The cluttered interior of Miach's shop was dim and still, save for the soft clink of a stirring spoon against a glass. Luthar stood beside the central counter, one hand resting near a half-covered terminal, the other held behind his back. He had not moved in several minutes.
Naaza stood opposite him, arms crossed tightly. Her ears were flat, her expression unreadable—but her tail flicked once, betraying unease.
Miach sat quietly behind a pile of wrapped herbs, watching the exchange with calm wariness.
"I'll say it again," Luthar began, voice low and precise. "You compile your knowledge. Every recipe, every method. In exchange, I offer either payment or assistance in improving Naaza's prosthetics."
Naaza exhaled sharply through her nose. "If this is a new way to anger me, you're doing a remarkable job."
Luthar tilted his head slightly. "You're free to believe what you want. But I need knowledge. You and Miach are among the few competent sources in this city."
"And if we say no?" she asked, tail twitching.
"Then there's nothing to discuss," he replied simply. "I'll find others who can provide what I need."
Naaza's ears twitched at that. Her arms dropped slightly from their crossed position, uncertain. Miach finally spoke, his voice calm but tired. "Naaza."
She turned to him, face tense.
"Don't get too emotional," he said gently. Then he looked at Luthar, eyes narrowing slightly. He remembered yesterday—speaking with Hestia in her new home, asking if she had fought with Luthar.
Hestia had hesitated. She hadn't wanted to speak ill of him but eventually admitted her fear—that one day, Luthar might turn Bell into a puppet if it served some greater goal.
Miach didn't claim to understand Luthar fully. But that conversation had made one thing clear: caution was necessary.
Clearing his throat, he addressed Luthar directly. "Mr. Luthar, your offer is appreciated. But I admit, I'm not certain whether my knowledge and your help with Naaza would be a fair exchange."
"There is no need to judge fairness," Luthar replied. "I offer services or coins. You provide information. Naaza receives a new prosthetic—one superior to the original. It will replicate temperature, pressure, and even pain. What it will not feel is fatigue or weakness."
There was a pause.
Naaza looked down, her voice quieter than before. "I… don't want to take a risk. We're already buried in debt."
Seeing her shoulders slump, Miach felt a pang of guilt. He couldn't stand to see her like this. He turned his focus toward what he could control.
"Then perhaps," he said slowly, "I can tell you I don't mind sharing what I know. But I would like to understand what exactly you're offering." He gestured toward Naaza's current arm. "As you can see, her current model is already quite capable."
Luthar regarded the prosthetic with a glance. "I can provide samples for demonstration, but in truth, such devices must be tailored to the individual. Her build, habits, reflexes, even daily motions—all of that matters."
He paused, then added, "If you agree to begin compiling your knowledge, then when the new prosthetic is complete, we can finalize the exchange."
Naaza remained quiet, still looking down.
Miach leaned back, brow furrowed. "Give me time; I will try to write down everything I know." Luthar gave a single nod. "I will return in three days."
He stepped away from the counter, heading toward the exit with mechanical precision. The soft hiss of the door marked his departure, leaving behind only silence and the lingering tension that clung to the walls like dust.
Naaza finally looked up.
"... Was this necessary?" she asked softly.
Miach sighed. "You shouldn't care about the small things, and it's not like we are losing anything."
Leaving the shop, Luthar made his way back to the church, where he prepared to improve the combat suit for Liliruca. While doing this, he also selected the type of knowledge Hephaestus and Tsubaki needed to learn.
Time passed in measured silence within the Crimson Church.
The hiss of auto-tools, the low hum of data screens, and the occasional flicker of cogitator lights were the only sounds that accompanied Luthar as he stood alone. He worked methodically, assembling a refined combat suit scaled precisely for Liliruca's frame.
After completing another task, Luthar turned his attention to an adjacent data-slate. Two columns, side by side, one tailored for Hephaestus, the other for Tsubaki.
As he finalized the basic knowledge, he realized even after so much time nobody had come back. While this might not be their home, he was expecting at least one of them—Freya, Liliruca, or Tsubaki—to come back to check.
He glanced at the clock projected across the corner of his vision. More than six hours had passed since the shop visit.
Then he thought he might be overthinking, as this should be normal; besides Liliruca, everyone had a home.
A low hiss echoed from doors opening.
Luthar turned just as Tsubaki entered.
Her usually confident stride was taut with tension, her single eye narrowed beneath a furrowed brow. Dust clung faintly to her coat, and there was a restless energy in the way her fingers flexed at her sides.
She halted upon seeing him. Relief flashed across her expression—but it was fleeting, quickly replaced by something more serious.
"There you are," she said curtly. "We need to go. Hephaestus wants to see you. Now." Luthar's gaze did not waver. "Is something wrong?"
"She didn't say much. Just that it's important. And urgent." Tsubaki stepped closer, lowering her voice slightly. "It's about Liliruca and some other people."
Luthar's eyes narrowed, but he gave a single nod. "Understood."
He closed the data-slate, slid it into a secure port, and followed her without another word. The air between them was heavy—filled not with accusation, but anticipation. The corridor lights dimmed as the church doors shut behind them.
[ read this novel in a places where it's actually uploaded; the only website it have been uploaded on Patreon, Scribble Hub, fanfiction.net,Wattpad
web novel, the last website should be Royal Road.]