After collecting the past few days’ earnings from Luther, Glenn paid the three of them their wages in advance for the month. The moment they received the money, none of the three could conceal the delight brightening their faces.

  Glenn waited a moment, then asked, “How’s Cliff been doing with the furniture sales? Has he come by these past few days?”

  At the mention, Luther’s smile vanished at once. “I nearly forgot to tell you, Mr. Glenn… Cliff… he’s dead.”

  Glenn’s brows drew together. “What happened?”

  Fury darkened Luther’s expression.

  “For the first few days after you left, everything was fine. Cliff came every day to report how well the furniture business was going. He said the pieces you crafted with your own hands were wildly popular. Many nobles came specifically for them, desperate to snatch even one—prices had been driven sky-high.

  “But it seems this success provoked someone’s envy—especially those two men who came last time. They tried to seize the unsold pieces, but Cliff refused them decisively. That was the last thing he told me. Shortly after, word came that he’d been murdered on his way home. And I’m certain it was those men—because your furniture soon appeared in that man Hobert’s house, turned into his own merchandise.”

  Glenn said nothing. His expression grew so dark it chilled the room.

  Luther was still fuming, and the Carter brothers no less. They had been furious when they first learned of it.

  Those thugs behaved as though killing were nothing more than a casual pastime.

  “We reported it to the police,” Kakin said dejectedly, “but officers in a place like ours don’t have the ability to find any solid leads. Those men were too clean.”

  “Are they still living where they were before?” Glenn suddenly asked.

  Luther shook his head. “I’m not sure. After the police failed to find anything, I hired a carriage to visit Cliff’s town myself. I saw Hobert and his people laughing together inside a carpentry house—as if they’d never taken a life. I was so enraged I confronted them, and they beat me for it. If the street hadn’t been crowded, I might not have made it back.”

  Glenn rose to his feet. “All right. The day’s over. Go home and rest—you’ll probably have a busy day tomorrow.”

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  The three assumed he was simply in a bad mood. They gathered their belongings and left after a brief farewell.

  Glenn stood in the doorway of the shop, watching their silhouettes shrink into the darkness. Then he lifted his gaze to the sky—already swallowed by night.

  Back home and already work to do… Forgive me, Cliff. I’ll avenge you now.

  He turned, extinguished the lanterns, locked the door. The next instant, he vanished.

  One hundred kilometers from Dood Town lay the town of Kanchi Road.

  Inside a large house, Hobert and Chels sat with five burly men, counting the day’s profits. Copper and silver coins piled on the wooden table, their metallic sheen enough to intoxicate anyone present.

  “One thousand two hundred and thirty-four coppers? Damn it! That’s much less than before!” A balding man complained bitterly.

  “Oh, spare me,” Chels snapped. “We’ve already sold out all the furniture. Earning this much is impressive. Even Cliff couldn’t make this kind of money before!”

  “Why can’t we get more pieces like those?” the balding man protested. “Didn’t you see how those nobles adored them? They practically want to kneel and beg us!”

  “That brat Glenn only made so many,” Chels muttered sourly. “Hobert and I were planning to deal with him long ago, but hell—he’s vanished these days. We staked out for days and didn’t see a trace of him.”

  “What are you worried about him for? Aren’t you two carpenters? Don’t tell me you can’t replicate something that simple?” another man said disdainfully.

  Several others nodded—they also thought the furniture looked easy enough to copy.

  Chels and Hobert flushed with anger.

  “Easy to say! You’ve no idea how difficult those damn things are to make! Do you know what tools you need to polish wood that smooth? Do you know how to drill through wood no thicker than a finger? If we could imitate it, we would’ve done it already! You think we’d pass on such easy money?”

  “You outsiders have no clue. All you can do is spout nonsense.”

  Seeing their rising fury, the others fell silent.

  “Should’ve kept Cliff alive,” the balding man grumbled after a moment. “We could’ve made him produce more.”

  The others nodded—indeed, it made sense.

  Just then, their dog outside erupted into frenzied barking— which quickly turned into terrified whimpering— and then silence.

  Everyone looked toward the door.

  “Wolves from the mountains?” Hobert muttered.

  Chels, who was closest to the entrance, rose to check— but before he touched the door, it swung open on its own.

  Glenn stepped inside.

  A smear of dog’s blood stained his clothes. He closed the door gently behind him.

  Turning around, he addressed the stunned men:

  “Good evening, gentlemen. I’m here to kill you.”

  “Who the hell is he?” one slow-witted brute asked.

  Chels recognized him instantly. “It’s you! We didn’t even come for you and you ran right into us! Talking big—did you bring backup? We’ve got plenty of people! Some are in the other house, and there are officers in this town! You think you can take us all on?”

  He spoke quickly, certain Glenn wouldn’t dare show up unless he had brought an army.

  Planning to brawl in the middle of town? This idiot must have no brain… Chels sneered inwardly.

  “Oh? More of your people?” Glenn paused, then nodded pleasantly. “Call them. Saves me time.”

  “Go get everyone you can find!” Chels barked at Hobert. Gathering enough men to intimidate Glenn first—then talk—was the best move. After all, even useless police wouldn’t ignore a full-on brawl in the streets.