The trader’s shop was spacious, shelves brimming with everything from potions to sturdy backpacks. One wall boasted an impressive array of scrolls and shimmering inks, their hues catching the light in a mesmerizing display. Opposite them, bottles of various shapes and sizes stood in neat rows, their contents ranging from fluorescent pink to a deep, near-black blue.

  Behind the main counter stood a man with long silver hair, tied back to keep it from falling into his sharp, whiskey-colored eyes. Two wolf ears twitched atop his head, his gaze locking onto me the instant I stepped inside. Suspicion darkened his expression, narrowing his eyes in a silent but pointed assessment.

  The hair on the back of my neck prickled under the scrutiny, but I forced myself to stand tall, biting back a grimace. They’ve dealt with a lot of bad humans—don’t take it personally. I reminded myself, carefully arranging my features into what I hoped was a friendly smile rather than the strained expression that wanted to form. Warwick had warmed up to me quickly enough. Maybe this merchant would as well.

  His stare didn’t waver until Clover stepped forward, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Oh, for the sake of all the spirits—am I going to have to tell everyone to stop glaring at him?”

  The merchant turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “You brought an unknown human here, in times like this, and expected anything else?”

  Clover met his gaze head-on, unflinching. “Yes, because if he were dangerous, I wouldn’t have brought him here at all. He’s the one who helped me clear a dungeon to find the herb. He’s the one who put his life on the line for strangers, without expecting a single coin in return. And he’s the one who stopped Timbur before his reckless actions got an innocent child hurt. He is not like the others you’ve dealt with, and the least you could do is give him a chance to prove that for himself.”

  The merchant considered her words, then turned back to me, his keen gaze measuring something unseen. “You, human. Why did you agree to help?”

  At least that was an easy enough question to answer.

  I gestured toward Clover. “Because I could tell she was going to go after that herb with or without backup. I wasn’t about to let her fight through a dungeon alone when I was right there and capable of helping.”

  He hummed, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his expression. “The people you’re helping are beastfolk. I’m surprised you risked your life for them. Most would have abandoned the quest the moment things became difficult.”

  I shrugged. “I’m not most people, and in this case, I’ll take pride in that. I don’t care what race someone is—if they need help and I can provide it, I will.”

  Clover nodded, gesturing toward the collection of job notices still fastened to my belt, alongside the misshapen teddy bear. “If he were some heartless bastard, he wouldn’t be planning to take on even more jobs without payment while I see to the sick. Now that we’ve thoroughly wasted time on this interrogation, can we please move on to why we’re here?”

  The merchant gave me one last, lingering look before finally grunting. “What do you need?”

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Clover rattled off the list without hesitation. “We’re heading into another dungeon tomorrow. We need healing potions, or at least mana recovery ones. If you have any restoration elixirs, those would be appreciated as well.”

  As he began gathering the requested items, his gaze kept drifting toward my belt—more specifically, the teddy bear. The first time, I dismissed it as idle curiosity. The second time, I started wondering. By the third, I cleared my throat, raising an eyebrow.

  His eyes met mine, his expression unreadable. A beat of silence stretched between us before he finally spoke, nodding toward my waist.

  “How much for the toy?”

  I blinked. Not what I was expecting.

  Glancing down at the bear, I shook my head. “Sorry, but it’s not for sale. I made it for my sister.” I ran a hand over the uneven stitching, wincing at its novice craftsmanship. “Besides, it’s hardly good enough to be worth paying for.”

  The merchant shook his head. “The kids who lost everything to that ogre wouldn’t care. Comfort is comfort.”

  His gaze drifted lower, landing on the stack of job postings. “Which ones did you take?”

  I hesitated, glancing at Clover, who looked just as lost as I felt. When she merely shrugged, I turned back to him. “Mostly ones for food and blanket materials. I don’t have much time before we leave tomorrow, so I figured I’d tackle the urgent ones first.”

  His sharp, assessing expression softened—just a fraction. Leaning against the counter, he tipped his head slightly. “And it truly doesn’t matter to you that there’s no payment?”

  It wasn’t framed as a question, but I nodded all the same. “I’m not doing this for money or rewards. These people need help. End of story.”

  He straightened as if about to say something else, but the sound of the door creaking open behind me cut him off. I turned, watching as a familiar small figure peeked into the shop.

  The boy from earlier.

  His wide eyes scanned the room before landing on me, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

  I exhaled, rubbing the back of my head. “You’re determined to follow me, huh?”

  He nodded, half-ducking behind the door like a child caught sneaking sweets.

  Clover shot me an amused, almost fond look as I sighed and gently reminded him, “Just don’t follow me outside the town, okay? It’s dangerous out there.”

  The boy beamed, nodding eagerly as he stepped further inside. When he stopped just a few feet away, his eyes drifted toward my waist again—this time, I watched closely.

  He wasn’t looking at my armor.

  Slowly, he reached up, his tiny fingers brushing the fabric of the teddy bear.

  Understanding struck like a hammer, and I resisted the urge to smack myself.

  Kneeling to his height, I rested a hand on the bear and sighed. “You weren’t staring at my armor before, were you?”

  He shook his head, his grip tightening ever so slightly around the stuffed toy, wide eyes silently pleading.

  From the corner of my vision, Clover knelt beside him, sympathy creasing her expression. “Sweetling, that isn’t yours,” she murmured, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

  The boy frowned, glancing between her and the bear, longing etched into every line of his small face.

  I hesitated, considering.

  I’d made it for Daedra—something long overdue, a simple toy meant to be a comfort for the sister I’d sworn to care for. But…she had our siblings. She had warmth and safety. She had people who would hold her through the long nights when the world felt too big, too cruel.

  This boy had none of that.

  And knowing Daedra? She would want him to have something—anything—to hold onto.

  Everyone needs a friend, even if it comes in the form of a poorly made stuffed animal.