Void Lord: My Revenge Is My Harem

Chapter 233 : Opening Shop and Increasing Harem Members X

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Fizz gasped. "I do not."

Orna looked at Fizz. "You absolutely do."

Edda folded her arms. "He talks while awake too. It is consistent."

Fizz looked betrayed by the entire concept of witnesses. "Fine. I will be quiet."

John raised an eyebrow. "For how long."

Fizz thought, serious. "Four seconds."

Gael cleared his throat, dragging them back to work. "John. We need to know what you can craft and what you are willing to craft. We need rules."

John nodded. "Tools. Blades. Repairs. Basic ward plates. The table can help create parts for special items, but those special items do not leave this shop unless I say so."

Orna’s brows lifted. "You mean weapons."

John did not deny it. He simply said, "Things that can cause trouble."

Edda’s eyes slid toward the door. "Trouble comes anyway. Better to have teeth."

Gael’s voice was firm. "We build slowly. We build clean. We do not invite the city’s attention until we can handle the city’s attention."

Fizz raised a paw. "I invite attention. It follows me naturally."

Gael looked at him. "Then we will hide you in a barrel."

Fizz looked delighted. "A barrel. Like a pirate."

John exhaled, then rubbed his forehead. "Alright. First priority. Clean the front properly. Set up shelves. Hang a simple sign. Prepare stock lists. Tomorrow we go to the market and buy metal, wood, oil, coal. Edda, you find local suppliers who do not overcharge. Orna, you help me set the forge and the anvil. Kel... you stay in the front and practice not offending customers."

Kel placed a hand to his heart. "This is discrimination."

"It is survival," John said.

Edda’s gaze sharpened. "And security."

Kel sighed dramatically. "Fine. I will charm them instead."

Fizz clapped. "Yes. Charm them. And if that fails, we sell them hammers."

Orna started laughing then, a low, surprised sound like she had forgotten laughter existed outside the village. It made John’s chest loosen further. He had not realized how tight it had been.

Gael picked up a broom without being asked. "We start now," he said.

John blinked. "You just arrived."

Gael shrugged. "If we wait, the city will eat our time. We do not feed the city."

Edda rolled her shoulders. "I will sweep. It relaxes me. It makes me feel like I am cleaning the world."

Kel grabbed a rag. "I will polish. I am very good at polishing. I polished Gael’s patience for months."

Gael grunted. "You wore it down."

Fizz floated up and declared, "I will supervise."

John stared at him. "You will help."

Fizz’s ears drooped. "I am a leader."

"You are a spirit," John corrected.

Fizz sighed like a martyr. "Fine. I will help by providing motivational speeches."

Orna pointed at him. "If you motivate too much, I will use you as a duster."

Fizz froze. "She is dangerous."

"Yes," John said. "That is why she is here."

They worked.

They swept. They wiped. They rearranged. They made the front look less like a room waiting and more like a shop that could actually open its mouth and start eating coin.

At some point, Gael stopped in the middle of the floor, looked around at the empty shelves, and said softly, "We really did it."

John’s throat tightened. "We started it," he corrected.

Gael nodded. "Yes. Started."

Fizz hovered beside John and whispered, almost gentle, "See. People. This is the best magic you have."

John did not answer. He simply kept wiping a shelf until it shone.

A new knock came at the door, louder than the last. Not cautious. Not polite.

Everyone froze.

Edda’s hand slid toward the place where a hidden blade would live. Orna’s stance shifted, ready. Kel lifted the broom like a weapon and looked very proud of himself. Gael’s eyes narrowed in the way a man narrows them when he is measuring how much violence a problem might require.

Fizz floated up to John’s shoulder and murmured, "If it is a tax officer, I will bite him."

John walked to the door, calm on the outside, careful on the inside.

He opened it a crack.

A man stood there in a neat coat with a small badge pinned to his chest. His hair was oiled. His smile was practiced. His eyes were not.

"New tenants," the man said pleasantly. "This property has been quiet for a long time. The city likes quiet. The city also likes knowing what wakes up."

John held the man’s gaze. "We are opening a shop."

The man’s smile widened. "Wonderful. Then you will not mind a quick registration inspection. Just a few questions. A few forms. A few fees."

Behind John, Fizz’s whisper turned sharp. "Fees are a form of emotional violence."

John’s hand stayed steady on the door. "Come back tomorrow," he said. "We are not open today."

The man’s smile did not move. "Oh, I am not a customer," he said softly. "I am the city guard."

John felt the room behind him tighten, like a forge heating.

He kept his voice polite anyway. "Then the city can wait five minutes while I fetch the correct papers."

And with that, he closed the door carefully, turned, and met Gael’s eyes.

Gael understood immediately. "We need to do this clean," he said.

Edda’s smile returned, thin as a wire. "Or," she offered, "we can do it my way."

John shook his head once. "No blood. Not here."

Fizz puffed his chest. "Team meeting," he announced. "Emergency meeting of Fizz Holdings. Agenda item one. How to legally destroy a man’s soul with paperwork."

Kel raised his hand. "I have always wanted to commit tax violence in a socially acceptable manner."

Orna cracked her knuckles. "I prefer direct violence."

"Sigh!"

Gael sighed, picked up the ledger, and said, "John. Where are the papers."

John touched his pocket, where permission and secrets lived side by side, and said quietly, "I have them."

Then he walked toward the back room, where the real power in this shop was not the table, not the guns, not even the void in his palm.

It was the fact that he finally had people behind him when the city knocked.