Liyue Fashion had exploded.
Within just a few days of the official launch, the flagship stores were flooded every morning before the doors even opened. Dragon-skin jackets, Moonlit Dresses, Teyvat-styled boots, enchanted handbags—everything sold out before noon. Wizards and witches from every background were suddenly "fashion experts," comparing cuts, enchantments, and seasonal collections.
Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly ran continuous headlines:
"Liyue Fashion Revolutionizes Wizard Style!""Dresses That Shift Color With Your Mood—Sold Out Again!""Dragon-Skin Luxury: Valvas Innovation Shocks the Market!"
Even the pure-blood families who publicly pretended to "disapprove of muggle-inspired fashion" were secretly sending house-elves to stand in line.
But the biggest shock came when Madam Malkin's and Twilfitt & Tatting's sent personal invitations to Roy.
Both boutique owners arrived at Liyue Store with hopeful smiles, prototype fabrics, and a clear message:
"We want to collaborate."
Roy listened, amused. These were the two biggest fashion houses in the British wizarding world. For them to approach him meant one thing—Liyue Fashion had just taken the throne.
After a long discussion about designs, enchanted durability, and stylistic freedom, Roy finally nodded.
"You will design and manufacture select pieces," Roy said. "Liyue Fashion will handle distribution. You'll receive 10% profit from all collaborative lines."
Instead of hesitation, both Madam Malkin and the Twilfitt representative practically bowed with gratitude.Ten percent of a global chain was still bigger than anything they had ever dreamed of.
They signed immediately.
With that final handshake, Roy left the Liyue Store, cloak fluttering behind him, already planning the next expansion phase.
A Visit to Nurmengard
The sky over Austria was pale gold when Roy apparated to a cliff overlooking the ancient stone fortress of Nurmengard.
The guards, accustomed to Roy's visits, stepped aside without a word. The old iron gates creaked open, revealing the cold hallways and flickering torches that stretched deep into the castle.
Gellert Grindelwald was standing near the window of his chamber, hands behind his back. His white hair shimmered in the light, and for a moment he looked less like a prisoner and more like a king who had merely paused his reign.
He turned when he sensed Roy.
"You've come again," Grindelwald said, a faint smile touching his lips. "Is there something you need, young Valvas?"
Roy shrugged, conjuring a small table between them.
"No. I just brought food."
He placed down a basket and pulled out authentic Mexican dishes, steaming and fragrant, followed by a bottle of 40-year-old aged vodka.
Grindelwald's eyebrows lifted. "Trying to spoil an old man, are you?"
"Just feeding a friend," Roy replied simply.
The two sat down, and as they ate, Grindelwald began speaking—something he rarely did.
He told Roy about his youth, his rivalry with Dumbledore, his dreams, the rise of the Deathly Hallows movement, and the long years trapped in this stone cage. Roy listened silently, absorbing every detail.
Then, almost casually, Roy asked:
"Gellert… after all these years, have you ever thought about leaving Nurmengard? Really leaving?"
For a moment, everything stilled.
Grindelwald put down his glass. His expression—usually sharp, arrogant, unreadable—softened into something distant.
He didn't answer.
Roy didn't push. Instead, he changed the subject, launching into the story of how he tricked Voldemort and Cassian Veylorn into fighting each other, how he stripped Voldemort's faction of wealth by looting multiple Gringotts vaults under their noses, and how he made both dark lords dance to his tune without realizing it.
Grindelwald laughed—actually laughed.
"You," he said, pointing at Roy with admiration, "are exactly like Darius Valvas. Arrogant. Cunning. Strategic. A natural war general. And far too dangerous for anyone's comfort."
Roy grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"You should," Grindelwald replied.
When Roy finally stood to leave, Grindelwald's eyes followed him—thoughtful, conflicted.
He didn't say it aloud, but Roy's earlier question lingered like a whisper in the cold chamber:
Do you want to escape?
As Roy vanished in a swirl of blue magic, Grindelwald remained still, staring at the wall, lost in old memories and possibilities he had long buried.
For the first time in decades, the idea of escape didn't seem impossible.