As expected, Ravel, who had failed to meet the demands of the previous night, was given a sound beating by Glenn, leaving his face still bruised and swollen today.

  The sight made Tia’s heart ache with pity.

  But she dared not say a word—Glenn’s blows the night before had been so ruthless that they left her truly frightened.

  Aside from his injuries, Ravel also bore faint dark circles under his eyes. They weren’t from sleeplessness due to pain, but because he had seen something utterly horrifying the night before—something that kept him awake in terror all night.

  They were indescribable, twisted creatures, prowling the silent streets and scavenging for food.

  Ravel had never witnessed anything like that before. He had nearly wet himself in fear and longed desperately to flee, but Glenn’s orders kept him rooted in place, suffering in agony.

  “It seems you didn’t get much sleep last night,” Glenn said as they sat down to breakfast. “But don’t think I’ll give you any time to rest. There’s still work to be done today, so you’d better pull yourself together—or you’ll be beaten again.”

  Ravel nodded wearily, poking at his food with little appetite.

  Unable to watch him like that, Tia quietly scooped some vegetables into his bowl, then glanced nervously at Glenn, afraid he would be angry.

  But Glenn ignored her small act of kindness and continued, “You can eat for now, but if you fail to complete today’s task, you’ll go hungry.”

  Fine—then I just won’t eat, Ravel thought bitterly to himself, though outwardly he still obeyed meekly.

  Glenn could more or less guess what was going through his mind, but said nothing. Experience would teach him better soon enough.

  After breakfast, Tia dutifully gathered the dishes and began her chores, while Glenn led Ravel toward the pigsty.

  The faint stench of manure pricked at Ravel’s nose, but he hardly noticed—because a massive one-eyed hound was staring right at him.

  “This is Nighthowl,” Glenn said casually. “He’ll be responsible for your safety.”

  He pointed toward the small pigpen. “Your task today is to feed these black pigs. You’ll need to cut and chop their feed. I’ll show you how—it’s simple. But fail, and you already know the consequences.”

  Once everything was arranged, Glenn hitched up his deer-drawn cart and left, heading off to sell his handmade wooden furniture.

  As he passed beyond Bayek’s outer forest, the sunlight grew brighter, lifting his spirits.

  But when he reached the outskirts of Dudd Town, Glenn frowned—there were far more guards on patrol than before, their inspections stricter than ever.

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  “Haven’t they caught those child snatchers yet?” he murmured under his breath.

  His cart carried nothing suspicious, and a few of the guards recognized him, so he entered the town without trouble.

  Perhaps it was the unique design of his furniture—or perhaps simply the strange sight of a deer pulling a cart—but people along the street couldn’t help staring as he passed.

  Glenn welcomed the attention. It was good for business.

  Setting up in his usual spot on Central Street, he arranged his furniture neatly and placed a simple price list beside them.

  Nearby, Im was still selling meat. With Glenn absent these past few days, his shop had finally seen a bit more business, though nowhere near what it had been before Glenn appeared.

  Seeing Glenn again now made Im’s expression darken.

  Everyone in town knew that a young man sold pork cheaper and tastier than anyone else—and that man was Glenn. If people wanted meat, they went to him first. Im resigned himself to another slow day.

  But then he noticed that Glenn hadn’t brought any meat this time—only a cart full of beautifully crafted furniture.

  That realization brightened his mood considerably.

  Glenn paid no attention to others’ thoughts. All that mattered to him now was selling his goods.

  Once everything was in place, a curious crowd gathered, pointing and whispering about the exquisite craftsmanship.

  “Mr. Glenn, did you make all of these yourself? They’re beautiful! I doubt even the nobles’ furniture is any better!”

  “They’re lovely, sure—but not cheap, I’ll bet.”

  “Clearly not something an ordinary family could afford. You’d need a steady income—or noble tastes—to buy these.”

  “I think they’re great! I’ll take a few home to try.”

  Seeing the townsfolk and traveling merchants so intrigued, Glenn smiled brightly and raised his hand for quiet.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “these pieces are crafted with care—sturdy, durable, and easy to move. Take this folding stool, for example…”

  He picked up a small stool, no higher than his knee, and with a few deft movements folded it neatly into a compact wooden cube, drawing gasps of amazement.

  “See? Easy to store or carry wherever you go.”

  Someone pointed to a larger recliner nearby. “Hey, sir! What about that one? Can it fold too?”

  Glenn walked over, demonstrated again, and the recliner flattened into a sleek wooden board.

  “This is a deck chair,” he explained. “Just imagine—after a long day’s work, you can lie back on it, basking in the sun. Relaxing, isn’t it? And the price is more than fair, cheaper than anywhere else. If you’re interested, don’t hesitate!”

  His lively explanations stirred the crowd’s enthusiasm, and soon people began purchasing one after another.

  Glenn had expected to sell out only by evening—furniture wasn’t cheap, after all—but within a short while, every piece was gone.

  He could only laugh in disbelief.

  What he didn’t know was that these special designs would soon spark a wave of fascination across the entire Kingdom of Zern, earning him a growing reputation among the craftsmen’s circles.

  One last order remained—a doorframe installation. Once he finished that, he could head home. It would be his earliest return from Dudd yet.

  He recalled the address the buyer had given and guided the deer cart onward.

  When he arrived, he found a well-kept, elegantly decorated home—a middle-class household, by the look of it.

  He knocked softly. The door opened to reveal the buyer: a cleanly dressed, graceful woman.

  “Good day to you, madam,” Glenn greeted politely.

  “Oh, it’s you, young man! Just call me Mrs. Ryan. I thought you’d be later. Please, come in.”

  “My business went better than expected—earlier than I’d planned,” Glenn replied, stepping inside.

  Mrs. Ryan didn’t rush him to start work. Instead, she poured him a cup of hot water.

  As he accepted it, Glenn’s ears twitched slightly—he caught the faint sound of coughing from somewhere inside the house. It wasn’t Mrs. Ryan.

  “The door that needs replacing is upstairs, by the window,” she said. “Whenever I forget to close it at night, it makes this awful noise. I’ve been meaning to change it for ages.”

  “Don’t worry,” Glenn said, taking a sip of the warm water. “It won’t trouble you again.”

  Then, picking up his tools, he headed upstairs.