Unfortunately, the Haniwa... wasn't moving.

  It remained silent, as if it had discarded its soul somewhere during the night.

  "Hmm, I guess Lurdona really is special after all," I muttered, leaning in close to study the clay doll.

  Lurdona crossed her arms and replied, "Well, there's no doubt that I’m special, but you’d think it would show some reaction..."

  She observed the Haniwa, casually acknowledging her own uniqueness.

  We both fell into deep thought for a while, but no clues surfaced.

  "Maybe..." I started, speaking softly. "Maybe the condition is my tears?"

  ...No, there’s no demand for an old man’s tears. Even the 'Invisible Hand' of the market would recoil at that. It couldn't possibly be the trigger.

  "It’s not entirely out of the question," Lurdona said, rolling up her sleeves with a smile. "Anyway, I'll make you cry next."

  She looked terrifying.

  "Please... keep it peaceful," I pleaded.

  "Regardless, we don't have anything that'll sell for a high price."

  "What about the Haniwa I made...?"

  Even if they don't move, they're rare. They might still sell.

  "Only someone with very peculiar tastes would pay a high price for that," she shot back.

  "You were born from one of those 'things'!"

  "That's irrelevant. ...Ah, I’m about to crash."

  Lurdona, who was forced into sleep during the day, quickly finished cleaning the shop and flopped onto the sofa.

  The door creaked open. Standing there was—that grumpy old man.

  But this time, he bowed deeply, looking like a completely different person.

  "Came to say thanks again. My wife's illness has finally subsided. That terrible coughing has stopped. Thank you."

  It felt like a scene from an old period drama. Caught off guard, I managed a smile.

  "I’m just glad I could help."

  "...And this is my granddaughter. I heard you looked after her last night."

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Behind him was the tall girl in the hood from yesterday. Was she human?

  "Her parents are working in the city. We tried raising her here in nature, but..."

  He trailed off, glancing at the hooded girl. She didn't budge an inch.

  "She’s been drifting around even after finishing school. Said she wanted to fulfill a dream and bought that Moon-Evening Grass. She’s nothing but trouble, I tell you..."

  I gave the sighing old man a light response. "Now, now. It’s not like those were selling that well anyway."

  Actually, they sold out instantly.

  "So, were you sick? Or did you have a dream you wanted to fulfill?" I asked, speaking to her as one would to a child.

  "I don't want to say," she replied, puffing out her cheeks and looking away. It was a completely childish reaction.

  Strands of silky, cornflower-blue hair spilled from her hood, reaching down to her waist.

  Her outfit—a short hoodie that showed off her midriff and short-shorts—revealed a slender, model-like physique.

  Her face was still mostly hidden.

  The old man cleared his throat.

  "I heard she emptied her piggy bank to pay the advance. Buying things on credit is a hundred years too early for the likes of her. She’ll work off the rest here. It’ll be a good lesson for her—give her a hard time, will you?"

  ...The conversation was moving forward without my consent.

  But as someone who had accepted a million-yen payment, I didn't exactly have the right to refuse.

  The old man, acting as bold as a legendary boss, simply said, "I'm counting on you," and walked away.

  "Nice to meet you. I'm Kutani. The one sleeping on the sofa back there is Lurdona."

  I’d laid her on a slightly better sofa this time.

  "I am Scorie Apamis, a Stone Pixie. May I go and greet Miss Lurdona?"

  A Stone Pixie? That’s a race you don't hear about much in fantasy.

  For a second, I thought she was surprisingly well-mannered. But that thought vanished instantly.

  "S-so... precious..."

  She was staring at Lurdona’s sleeping face, literally drooling.

  Ah, I see... She’s the type that hides her perversion behind a serious act.

  I looked up at the sky, wondering if I’d picked the wrong part-timer, but all I saw was the dim ceiling.

  Wait, aren't pixies supposed to be tiny? Like, palm-sized versions of humans? She said she’s a Stone Pixie—is that a larger sub-species?

  Small, pixie-like wings grew from her back. They looked delicate, like gossamer, but as she moved, a sharp, localized gust of wind swirled around her feet, lifting the dust from the floor in a perfect spiral. Her skin looked human, but it seemed like it would feel grainy to the touch.

  She was fascinating, but... more importantly.

  "Ahem! Save the admiring for later. ...Actually, we have nothing to sell right now. Do you know of any suppliers?"

  "Wait, you started a general store without even having a supplier?"

  She had 'Is this guy an idiot?' written all over her face, but I decided to ignore it.

  "You bet. Damn right. The mountain's my warehouse! But there's a dangerous monster up there now, so I'm staying out. I need a supplier for times like this."

  "...In that case, leave it to, chief!"

  With a snap of her fingers, the air in the shop suddenly compressed. Before I could even blink, a forceful gale erupted from beneath her boots, propelling her forward like a released spring. She didn't just run; she rode the wind itself, blurring into a streak of blue and white.

  The last thing I saw was her profile—she looked like she was plotting something deviously wicked.