Tap… tap… tap…
Soren's index finger drummed a slow rhythm against the edge of the workbench, the tiny sound swallowed almost immediately by the workshop's heavy air.
The room smelled of oil, charcoal, and metal dust; it was the kind of scent that clung to your lungs and refused to leave.
Tools hung in neat rows along the far wall.
Hammers of different sizes, tongs, chisels, and strange instruments Soren couldn't even name.
A forge burned in the adjoining room, the glow spilling weakly through an open doorway, heat licking the edges of the cooler back room where they sat.
He stared down at the scarred tabletop, listening to his own tapping.
'Calm down,' he told himself. 'It's over.'
"Psst. Are you okay?" Esper whispered from beside him.
He turned his head.
She was sitting sideways on her chair, one leg kicked up, chin resting on the backrest, studying his face like he was an interesting specimen.
The usual glint in her emerald eyes was still there, but softer than before.
Soren forced a small smile and nodded.
"Yeah, I'm fine now."
It wasn't entirely true.
His heart had settled, his pulse back to normal, but the aftertaste of his earlier outburst still sat bitter on his tongue.
'It happened again.'
His fingers stopped drumming, curling into a loose fist.
He thought back to the moment outside the shop.
The way the word "playing" had hit him like a physical blow.
How the anger had flared so suddenly it almost scared him.
He had been angry at the dwarf's words, sure.
The man had judged him at a glance and spoken as if he had never seen fear, blood, or real danger.
That alone was enough to annoy him.
But the depth of the anger, the way it had come boiling up from somewhere that didn't feel entirely his…
That didn't make sense.
'This isn't just my irritation.'
He could admit that much.
He had experienced the original Soren's emotions back in the library, when those memories had overwritten his own for a moment.
He had felt the boy's helplessness, his quiet resentment, his shame.
He had assumed, stupidly, that when the vision ended, those feelings would be neatly filed away.
Apparently not.
Now, they were leaking through the cracks at random.
A phrase.
A tone.
An old man's careless assumption.
His jaw clenched briefly.
It wasn't that he couldn't understand why those words hurt.
They lined up too neatly with what Sofia had written in that letter.
With how the original Soren had lived.
With the kind of life he had had no say in.
But he wasn't that boy, not completely.
He was Isaac.
And yet his chest had burned like it was his own history being dragged across the ground.
'It's difficult,' Soren thought, exhaling slowly. 'I don't even know which feelings are mine anymore.'
He dragged his eyes away from the table and back to the dwarf sitting opposite them.
"So, to get this right…" the dwarf, Hammond, said, stroking his soot-stained beard with a disbelieving frown. "I just have t' appraise your weapon and give you a decent handaxe, and that'll make us even?"
His accent was rough, thick in places, the vowels stretched and clipped in ways that would've been hard to understand if Soren wasn't paying attention.
"That's the gist of it," Soren replied, propping his cheek in his hand.
He hadn't originally intended to push that hard.
He had only meant to walk away, but once he had started, the words had poured out on their own, and now they were here, sitting in the dwarf's back room like they had come for a scheduled meeting.
Hammond frowned deeper, glancing past Soren to the woman beside him.
"Then what about the other lady?" he asked. "If I don't settle things proper, I'll be losin' sleep."
Esper straightened at once, switching gears without missing a beat.
"Me?"
She placed a hand on her chest.
"Well, I use magic, so I don't really need anything. I'm not the weapon type, y'know?"
Her tone was light, but Hammond kept his gaze fixed on her.
"I'm sorry, Miss," he said, a bit more politely than earlier. "But if I don't give somethin' to you as well, I'm afraid I won't be able t' sleep at night outta worry. My kind don't like leaving debts half-paid."
Soren opened his mouth, ready to say they could just forget about it, but Esper spoke first.
"In that case," she said, lifting her chin, "instead of a freebie, could you prioritise any commissions the two of us bring in from now on?"
Hammond's bushy brows rose.
"We'll pay full price," she continued smoothly, as if reading from a contract. "We'll bring all the materials we can. All we're asking is that, when our requests come in, you push them to the front of the line. No cutting corners, no discounts needed. Just priority."
She paused for a heartbeat.
"And don't worry. We won't ask for anything unreasonable."
Soren turned toward her slowly.
The playful gyaru who he had fed pancakes was gone for a moment.
In her place sat the heir of a ducal house, posture straight, eyes sharp, every word measured.
'I guess it makes sense, she is a duke's daughter, after all.'
There was no trace of hesitation in her tone.
She was used to negotiating, to framing things in a way that made both sides feel like they had won.
"Right, Cutie?" she said, tilting her head toward him with a small smile.
"Uh… sure," Soren replied.
It wasn't a bad deal at all.
In fact, it was better than what he had planned to ask for.
A dwarven smith taking their commissions seriously, and cutting waiting time whenever they brought something in?
That was worth far more than a single free weapon.
Then, as if she had flipped a switch in her head, Esper's expression brightened, her previous intensity dissolving completely.
"Cool! All settled then," she chirped.
"Right," Hammond nodded. "Let's see that axe…"
"Soren."
"Let's see that axe, Miss Soren."
"…"
Esper's lips twitched.
"Pfft."
He ignored the faint snort of laughter coming from his right and reached into the air, fingers brushing against the intangible space of his inventory.
Whoosh—
The two-handed axe dropped onto the table with a heavy thud, the wood creaking under its weight.
Even in the dim light of the workshop, the weapon stood out.
The dark metal looked as if it had been forged from night, its surface etched with unfamiliar lines that caught the light in a muted sheen.
The haft was long enough that Soren had to angle it slightly so it wouldn't knock anything else over.
Hammond's eyes lit up instantly.
"...Well, I'll be damned," he muttered.
He pushed his stool back with a rough scrape and trotted away from the table, surprisingly fast for his size.
Soren watched as he moved through the workshop on short, sure steps, grabbing tools from hooks and shelves: a loupe-like lens, a set of fine chisels, a leather strap, a flat metal plate etched with enchantments.
By the time he came back, his initial anxiety had been completely replaced by focused curiosity.
"Let's see, then…"
He placed a palm on the axe's grey hilt, calloused fingers wrapping around the grip.
Then he closed his eyes and slowly let out a breath.
The mana that seeped from his hand wasn't flashy.
It didn't shine, didn't twist the air, didn't make any dramatic sound.
It simply sank into the weapon.
Twitch.
Soren's left eye gave a small, involuntary jerk.
'Not again—'
He quickly raised a hand and covered it, pressing his palm lightly over the eyelid.
The memory of the sharp pain from when his unique skill activated for the first time was still vivid.
Until he was sure it wouldn't repeat, he wasn't eager to test it again.
Esper leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin in her hands as she watched the dwarf's movements with interest.
Hammond didn't speak for a while.
He ran his hand along the haft, fingers feeling for unseen grooves.
He tilted the blade under the light, checking the way mana residue clung to the edges.
At one point, he picked up the etched metal plate, placed it flat beneath the axe head, and sent a thin thread of mana through both.
The mana flared briefly, then dimmed.
"Miss Soren," he said at last, voice going formal again as he pulled his hand back. "This'll take about an hour if I'm t' do it properly. You don't have t' wait in here the whole time. Might get bored, and I'd rather not have anyone hovering while I work."
The moment those words left his mouth, Esper hopped to her feet as if she had been waiting for the cue.
"Well, you heard her, Miss Soren," she said grandly, holding out her hand. "Let's go get some food."
Soren exhaled.
"You're not going to drop that, are you?" he muttered, but he still took her hand and let her pull him up.
He glanced at the axe one more time.
He wasn't worried Hammond would try to run off with it.
Even if the dwarf were that stupid, there were too many witnesses.
Too many people had already seen the weapon appear.
And the moment it vanished, Soren would know something was wrong.
Besides, its fame in the game had never come from a known name or clear appraisal.
'Nobody even knew what it was called,' he thought. 'Just "Freya's axe."'
As a dungeon relic, it should've had a proper name and full description, but for some reason, in TKS, the weapon's name and most of its details had never been publicised.
There had only been rumours and speculation based on the way Freya fought.
He had spent hours back then scrolling through forum threads, trying to dig up information.
In the end, all anyone had agreed on was this: "if you ever get your hands on it, don't let go."
"So, where should we go?" Soren asked as they stepped outside, letting the door close behind them with a muffled thump.
He offered his arm out of habit.
Esper linked hers with his immediately, leaning in like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Hmm…" she said, swinging their joined arms as she looked down the street. "No clue!"
Soren huffed.
"How about a cafe, then?" he suggested. "We can decide what we actually want once we're there."
"Sure!" she replied without hesitation.
"Then let me lead, I know a good place."
Her eyes sparkled.
"Righty'o, Leader!"
Soren couldn't help it; a laugh slipped out despite the tension that had been coiled in his chest since earlier.
'Seriously, being around her makes it hard to stay in a bad mood,' he thought, as they started walking.
He chuckled at the ever-bright Esper beside him and led the way out of the workshop district.
••✦ ♡ ✦•••
"Ohhh! I've been here before!" Esper exclaimed.
Soren pushed open the glass door of Etheheart Cafe and stepped inside with her still linked to his arm.
The quiet murmur of conversation washed over them, the clink of cups and low laughter creating a soft background noise that contrasted sharply with the clangs and heat of Hammond's workshop.
'Figures,' Soren thought. 'If there's anywhere a noble would know, it's here.'
The cafe was just as he remembered from his visit with Louise.
The dark wooden tables, the soft cream-coloured walls, the big windows letting in filtered sunlight.
Well-dressed students and young nobles sat scattered around the room, speaking in low voices.
Even though the place was popular, the noise never rose above a gentle hum.
It was the kind of space where people pretended they were relaxed while still being very aware of who might be watching.
Soren led Esper toward a booth near the back, away from most of the other customers.
They slid into the seats across from each other, leather creaking softly.
He reached for the menu card tucked between the salt and sugar jars and handed it to her.
"What are you going to get?" Esper asked, eyes already wandering around the cafe rather than down to the menu.
"Dunno yet," Soren answered. "That's why I'm looking."
"Mm. Makes sense," she said.
She didn't even glance down at the card in her hands.
He stared at her for a second.
"...Then why aren't you looking at yours?"
She leaned back and placed the menu flat on the table without even opening it.
"Don't wanna," she said simply.
He pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Then should I just order for myself and leave you to starve?" he asked dryly.
Esper smiled, eyes curving.
"Decide for me, I trust you, Cutie."
"That makes one of us," Soren muttered, but he took the menu back anyway.
He scanned the items quickly.
The caramel latte he liked was still listed.
The same bitter black blends Lilliana always ordered.
A list of fancy-sounding desserts that he hadn't touched last time.
Simple sandwiches.
Cakes.
His gaze softened despite himself.
He snapped the menu shut and rang the little brass bell at the edge of the table.
"Don't complain if you don't like it," he said, setting the menu aside.
"If I don't like it, I'll just buy more," Esper replied with an easy shrug.
Soren's mouth twitched upward.
He didn't know how she did it, but she kept pulling his mood up a little at a time, like someone slowly winding a stuck clock.
"Ah, Louise's brother! Hello there."
A familiar voice made him look up.
A purple-haired beastkin approached their table, tail swaying lazily behind her.
Her fox-like ears twitched once when she recognised him, and she flashed a small, knowing smile.
"Shirone, right? Thanks for always taking care of Louise."
"It's nothing," Shirone replied. "She's one of my best customers. The kind who pays on time and doesn't complain. A rare breed."
She turned her attention to Esper and sighed lightly.
"And here's another one of my regulars," she added. "Seriously, Essy, how many people do you know? You keep bringing in new faces every week. It's good for business, but still…"
Esper grinned and put up a peace sign.
"Teehee~"
"Well, as long as you pay up, I'm happy," Shirone said, waving a hand dismissively. "So, what can I get you two today?"
Soren tilted his head in thought for a moment, then grinned faintly.
"Caramel latte… and a black coffee," he said.
Shirone jotted it down quickly.
"All right. I'll bring them over in a bit," she said. "Try not to cause trouble while I'm gone."
"No promises," Esper replied.
Shirone snorted and left.
Soren leaned back in his seat, folding his arms over his chest.
"I ordered for you, so you'd better like it," he said with a small, challenging smile.
Esper rested her cheek in her palm, smiling back just as mischievously.
"Who knows? Maybe I'll hate it and complain forever."
"We'll see," he replied.
He found himself relaxing more than he'd expected.
Just sitting here, talking nonsense, the weight in his chest felt less suffocating.
Esper hadn't dug into his outburst.
She hadn't asked about why that word had set him off.
She had just followed him off to eat, then acted as if everything were normal.
'It's… nice,' he thought. 'Not having to explain.'
————「❤︎」————