The Second Customer (1)

A knock was an unfamiliar sound to Lian.

Because he was a merchant.

His visitors had always been announced by the crisp chime of a doorbell, and even that rang only a couple of times a day at most.

A knock was something he'd heard even less.

Knock knock knock...

And so the strange sound drifting through from beyond the glass carried no memories for him, no warmth at all——

It was simply the sound of pain approaching.

Bang!

His limbs locked up at the knocking, and Lian, who had been dozing in his chair, tumbled to the floor.

Thud.

A dull sound, effective at driving sleep away.

Clutching his head with his right hand, Lian lifted his heavy eyelids.

"Ugh... how long was I out?"

He peered out the window through bleary eyes. The sun still hung at its ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠zenith, lighting up the city.

The same view as before he'd closed his eyes.

Ten minutes of sleep, maybe?

His body, robbed of its nap, ached as if the muscles had been wrung out. Freshly woken, Lian swallowed down the surging irritation the way he always did, out of habit.

"Time is money, as they say. Gotta earn."

Saying something positive calmed him down a little.

When he crawled out of his rolled-up blanket, his clothes clung to him, soaked through with cold sweat. Despite the mild weather, a shiver ran through him.

Knock knock knock.

The sound was coming from the Back Window.

Scrambling back into his chair, Lian recalled the rules in the manual.

Two rules demanded his attention right now.

He had to start the transaction within three minutes of the knock.

And the moment he opened the window, the transaction would begin.

Why three minutes, of all things?

Lian thought of his first customer. The purple eyes of someone starving to death flickered before his own.

If the time limit runs out... does the customer die?

He didn't have the courage to wait and find out.

Knock knock knock.

The knocking continued, like the second hand of a broken clock. His whole body flinched in time with it.

He had to open the window, and fast.

Lian reached out his hand.

Thump. Thump.

But what if a 'shortfall' arose this time too? What if the Tall Woman seized him and dragged him into the dungeon?

What if he suffered all that agony, only for the customer to die anyway?

What value would remain in that pain?

"Haah..."

His breath caught in his throat. The stump of his severed left arm throbbed as if being prodded with needles.

Three short minutes. Yet his hesitation swelled without end. His right hand, gripping the curtain, slid down inch by inch.

If I just wait... three minutes...

He ran the numbers.

Like a cold, calculating merchant.

Knock knock knock.

Curled up in his chair, he stared and stared at the Back Window.

Knock knock...

Time crawled by. About two minutes had passed since the knocking began when Lian, having finished his calculation, closed both eyes——

(You're my first customer, you know! You saved my life! Thank you so much!)

A voice so relentlessly cheerful it was almost infuriating kept pushing at his back.

(I wish I could do something for you, Merchant.)

Clack—.

Lian rose from the chair. He dragged the longsword he'd propped against the counter over beside him.

(Don't give up.)

...The knocking's too loud to sleep through. I'll just finish the deal and go back to bed.

Swish!

With a trembling right hand, he threw back the curtain, the corners of his mouth lifting into the familiar commercial smile.

Ready for business.

Clang—!

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cold-hearted merchant threw the window open with force.

(I suppose I should call you 'Dungeon Merchant'! How does that sound?)

"Hello there! Dungeon Merchant, at your service!"

Time to make a sale.

…

…

"Hm. I heard a window and knocked on a whim, but there really is a house here."

"It's a shop."

His second customer had come to the Back Window — a woman dressed in black robes.

The first thing to catch the eye was her hair, black as obsidian. She'd tied the waist-length black hair neatly into a ponytail, its only ornament a single white hairpin — and yet, strangely, he couldn't look away.

Golden eyes glinting in the darkness bored into Lian's face without so much as a tremor.

Lian studied the woman with her blade-sharp gaze, then frowned.

No matter how I look at her... she seems perfectly fine.

Skin white as snow, a cheek splattered with monster blood. Her robes were black as ink, and a chest larger than her head strained the front of the garment open from side to side, baring pale skin beneath.

Only, the black robe blended into the darkness around her, making the rest of her difficult to make out.

Was this what it would look like, if someone sculpted a human figure out of ink-dark steel?

The woman fingered the straight sword at her hip as she surveyed the peaceful interior of the shop.

"……"

Then she looked back at Lian's face, and upon discovering his wrecked state and his missing left arm, relaxed.

Had she judged him to be no threat to her?

Should've changed clothes.

Lian looked down at himself under her pointed stare. He was wearing the bloodstained clothes from yesterday, exactly as they were.

Well-wrapped bundles sold best, as the saying went. No one would trust a merchant hawking his wares looking like this.

In a hurry, he grabbed the blanket off the floor and wrapped it around himself, hiding both the clothes and his missing arm.

Clack—.

At that, the robed woman took a step back and regarded the blanket-wrapped Lian with renewed wariness.

"You've wrapped yourself in an outer shell. So you were a monster."

"A what?"

"A ploy of feigning injury to lure in prey, is it."

"No, it isn't."

"No matter how you imitate something to my taste, I will not be deceived."

She was a strange one.

If he couldn't see a scratch on her, maybe she'd taken a blow to the head.

The way she referred to herself as 'this one,' too — Lian had a gut feeling this transaction wouldn't be an easy one either.

He worked hard to haul up the corners of his mouth as they kept trying to slide down.

"So — are you buying something, or shall I say goodbye?"

"A shop run by a monster, is it... Very well. What do you sell?"

"Recovery potions."

"Show this one."

The woman squared her shoulders with pride. Beneath the loose robes, something heavy and imposing shifted.

Wouldn't all that be uncomfortable to fight with strapped on?

Lian shelved the pointless thought, plucked a potion from the display case, and held it out through the window.

"...Low-grade, I see. Is this all you sell — things fit for little more than light first aid?"

"……"

"I suppose a single mouthful of water would be dear in a place like this. Those who wish to live would strip the clothes from their backs to buy them."

It was an excessively upright voice, without a single note of desperation in it.

Lian made no reply to the murmur. Nobody knew better than he did that everything in his shop was cheap junk.

(Little child.)

(I shall give you everything I own.)

The shop was one that had been dumped on him against his will. With no attachment to it and no pride in it, he'd merely kept up appearances, just enough to get by.

No customers came anyway, in the ordinary course of things. He'd never even thought of it as a problem.

But it was different now.

The Back Window existed now. More desperate customers would come, now and in the future — and with potions this cheap, he'd never fetch a proper price.

So much to do... Fine. I'm getting rich.

Once this deal was done, he'd stock better potions. That was how he'd squeeze more out of his customers — and how the day would draw closer when he could buy himself back from the Beggar Woman.

Crunch...

The merchant who'd only ever managed to hand his first customer a cheap, low-grade potion.

Lian quietly clenched his fist, then broke into a wide smile for his new customer.

"...Did I not tell you that tempting this one is useless?"

"Excuse me?"

The woman averted her gaze from his smile and murmured. Face turned aside, she covered the corner of her mouth with her sleeve.

Is there something wrong with my face?

Watching his customer's reaction, Lian peered into the glass of the window and studied his own reflection there.

A smoky gray gaze with pupils gone slightly slack. A commercial smile stiff as a mask...

…

...Is that what my face looks like?

Hm?

A small, stray unease passed through him. Probably because he lived without ever looking in a mirror.

Tearing his eyes from the window, Lian refocused on the customer.

Clack—.

The woman, who'd spent the interval wiping blood off her cheek and tidying herself up for no particular reason, took a breath under his gaze and held out the cheap potion she'd been clutching, without a hint of regret.

"You've soured the mood. I'm off."

Transaction declined.

Arms crossed, the woman gave a curt nod — the kind that said move along, I'm leaving.

Without a word, Lian took the potion back and set it on the counter.

"You're sure it's all right not to buy anything?"

"This one is strong. Potions are for the weak. They are not worth pressing to one's lips."

"But—"

"Woof!!"

She barked. Just like that.

Lian blinked.

"...I beg your pardon?"

"Ahem — Gal!! Insolence! To think a mere peddler would dare belittle this one!"

Face flushed red, the woman rebuked him. Her voice was as stubborn as those upstanding eyes.

...She seemed a little unhinged, but was that just him?

Sensing that hers was not a temperament persuasion would reach, Lian dutifully nodded along.

The accusation of weakness... he decided to let it go, since it happened to be true.

Actually, this works out fine. The customer looks perfectly healthy.

So not everyone who knocked on the Back Window was desperate.

Either way, it was good news for Lian. It meant he wouldn't be dragged into the dungeon over some claimed shortfall in value.

He had neither reason nor means to force a sale. The goods were mediocre, and the customer had simply declined to buy. That was all.

Blink...

Weighted with exhaustion, his eyelids dragged themselves down. Lian resolved to wrap up the transaction quickly.

"Well then... travel safe."

"Do not give commands to this one."

His second customer. A strange swordswoman. Goods sold: none.

Srrk...

And so, the transaction concluded, Lian offered his farewell and slowly began to close the window.

Creeeak—.

The gap between them narrowed. Shadows crept across the woman's proud face.

"……"

Had he just seen it wrong, in the dark?

Just as the window was nearly shut, the woman's eyes wavered. That blade-sharp gaze melted away into the shadow — and what had been hiding inside it was laid bare.

Regret. As if he were someone she would never see again if she let this moment pass.

"...Um,"

A moment later, the woman bit her lip and stretched hesitant, trembling fingertips toward the window.

"Yes?"

"Declare your name."

She stared blankly at Lian beyond the glass. Muttering something, she took a step closer.

And then——

"My name?"

"Indeed. A meeting such as this is surely a bond of fate... so grant this one the honor of hearing your na—"

Crash...

The woman crumpled where she stood.

…

…

Splat—.

A wet, heavy sound rose from below the window. The woman who had been asking his name had collapsed to the ground.

Lian, who'd been in the middle of closing the Back Window, stopped and blinked twice.

One second... two seconds...

Bang!

He wrenched the half-closed window back open. Gripping the frame, he thrust his head out into the darkness.

"……"

He saw her — the woman fallen face-down. And on the back of her black-robed body,

Shlkk...

——a wound she had never once shown him until the transaction was over. A deep sword-cut, slashing from her right shoulder down to her left hip.

"What the—"

Dark red blood poured out of it without pause. The blood-soaked robe clung to her skin.

Lian couldn't process the sight before him and pressed a hand to his throbbing temple.

(This one is strong. I'd sooner die than be fussed over by the weak, like you.)

So she hadn't wanted to show him her weakness, even while dying.

"Hey!!"

Lian seized the window frame. Above it, the guillotine blade gleamed with a sinister edge.

But the blade did not move — as if granting him leave.

The merchant, having thrown off his blanket, hurled himself out into the dark beyond the window.

Splat!

He had crossed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠into the dungeon.

Of his own will.

He didn't know why.

All that flickered before his eyes was an unfocused pair of purple eyes.

(You're my first customer, you know! You saved my life! Thank you so much!)

"Customer!"

Someone kept pushing at his back. Over the window frame and into the dark, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as if he'd taken a blow and coughed it out, Lian spat words without thinking.

"You're buying something before you go!"

His feet landed on the sodden ground. The shop's lamplight spilled out around him.

He froze.

Lian saw it — there in the darkness where the customer stood: the corpses of dozens upon dozens of monsters, nauseating pools of blood——

And blood gushing without end from the wound across the woman's back.

A cut so deep the muscle was severed and bone gleamed through. The work of a blade.

How had she been standing in this condition?

Betrayed... from behind, by one of her own?

Nothing could be known for certain. Only that the woman lay dying among the corpses of monsters.

Could a cheap potion save her?

『……』

The transaction had begun.

The Tall Woman, clinging to the dark ceiling, crawled across it like a lizard. Then she stopped directly above Lian's head and bent her neck a full 180 degrees to peer down at him.

Crreeak—.

Her long arms lowered, like the pans of a scale comparing weights.

『Tick. Tock.』

A clock, made by mouth.

Blood-colored eyes watched Lian as he crouched down beside his customer.