Rusty let the silence hang in the room, as though he were weighing the director's words carefully. Inside his helmet, however, Alexander's voice rang out.

"They're threatening you. Standard guild politics. They want you under their thumb."

Aburdon chuckled as his voice was dripping with mockery.

"Balance, he says. What he means is extortion. Pay their prices, lick their boots, or they'll make sure your shop burns before the week is over."

Rusty's hand tightened slightly on his cane. He had already learned enough of these people to know that if he defied them outright, they would move against him. Yet if he bowed too deeply, he risked being exploited. After tilting his head, he tried to appear composed and responded.

"I see. Then perhaps you can explain the price you consider acceptable. I am still learning the ways of this circle."

Drexel scoffed, but the guild director's smile widened.

"Wise words. Very adaptable. That is good."

He leaned back, folding his hands.

"Let us say this. Your wares are impressive, perhaps too impressive for a newcomer. But this is fine, just an opportunity to earn more coin!"

He said while licking his lips.

"How about this? You will match Master Drexel's rates, no less. Anything lower, and the guild will reconsider your position…"

At first, the words sounded like a suggestion, but the threat was unmistakable. These merchants had no intention of letting him encroach on their business. Regretfully, he had no easy way to refuse. His standing in the city was fragile. His only allies were a handful of street urchins under his roof, and even his guides agreed with the danger.

"I don't like this, Rusty, but you'd better accept their terms; if we go against the merchant guild, it will only worsen the situation."

Alexander said, and Aburdon chimed in shortly after.

"Not like we have a choice. They have plenty of ways to shut us down."

Rusty nodded slowly, buying himself time to think. The merchants of this city were clearly under the guild's boot, but that did not mean he had to surrender. Still, what would refusal bring? Sabotage while he was in the dungeon? A boycott by every shopkeeper in town? He knew how these people thought. If this man commanded it, the rare metals he needed would never reach his forge.

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For a moment, he glanced at the so-called director. Beyond combat-focused classes, others emphasized management or crafting. It was difficult to determine whether he was in his third or fourth class, but he felt no immediate danger.

The man had no battle class and would likely be unable to withstand even a weak strike from his weapon. Although the frame he was using was not designed for combat, it could still deliver a fatal blow from this distance. Yet if he chose to kill or even injure the man, a crowd of adventurers and guards stood ready to be paid to deal with him, and that was a force he could not afford to face right now.

"I understand."

The guild director rose smoothly and looked at Rusty with a smile, though smugness lingered beneath it.

"Good. Then we shall have no trouble between us. But remember, Mister Edmund, in this city, prosperity is not earned by the quality of your products alone. It is earned by cooperation. Now…"

He glanced at Drexel, who rose and approached Rusty with deliberate steps. Drexel handed him something resembling a notebook.

"In there, you will find the usual rates for Master Drexel's wares."

Rusty accepted the notebook with both hands. The leather binding was sturdy, and the cover bore an embossed sigil of a hammer resting on an anvil. It seemed to carry some significance, as many humanoid symbols did.

"Study it well and don't forget. Price your work higher if you must, but never lower. Do you understand?"

The old blacksmith's presence was domineering, and he carried most of the hostility in the room. It seemed likely he had arranged this meeting and forced its tone. There was no mistaking the threat; if Rusty failed to obey, punishment would surely follow.

"I will."

Rusty replied in a flat voice, his eyes fixed on the prices listed inside. The notebook was meticulous, detailing even items his shop did not carry.

"Pitiful parasites, leeching from the strong. If you asked me, I'd spill their blood on this fine rug …"

Aburdon began to complain, but Rusty ignored him. His strength was not yet enough, and he remained within a human settlement. His main goal was to secure materials from the humanoids to grow stronger. There was no need to rush, though this setback could delay his search for greater power.

"That will be all for tonight. We look forward to seeing how you adjust, Mister Edmund. Do not disappoint us."

Vinric, the guild director, gestured lazily toward the door. Rusty turned to leave, but just as he reached for the handle, the man spoke again.

"Ah, one last thing."

"Yes?"

"It's only a formality, but we will send one of our associates to ensure the prices are correct."

Rusty nodded. He wasn't sure how else to respond, and the message was clear: they would be watching him closely now. At last, he opened the door and stepped out.

"How much will I lose on this deal?"

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

He muttered.

"We can't be sure."

Alexander answered as Rusty walked away from the building. Once outside, he took one last glance at it before heading home. With the notebook in hand, he could easily adjust the prices, and he was not entirely opposed to the increase. If things cost a little more, he could sell fewer items and still earn the same amount of money.

Rusty returned to his workshop late that day, the notebook tucked beneath his arm. Gleam raised her head from her corner when the door creaked open. She leapt onto his head so suddenly that his helmet nearly fell off. She was not alone, as the children had not gone to bed yet. When they saw his unusual outfit, they could not help tilting their heads in curiosity.

"Welcome back, Mr. Edmund."

Said Ria, almost at the same time as Isan. Natia, on the other hand, rushed forward to touch the fluffy cape he was wearing, only to be pulled back by Rolo. The room was noisy with their greetings, yet for some reason, he did not dislike it. His once quiet lair was now filled with light and the sound of children's laughter.

"I'm back. Here, I brought something."

With the children helping him, he no longer needed to do everything on his own. Rolo, in particular, was useful, since he could read and write, a skill not everyone in this world possessed. On some days, he even taught the others, which would allow them to help replace the price tags on Rusty's wares.

"We will change the prices on everything. Use this as a reference."

He handed the booklet to Rolo, who quickly scanned its contents. The boy's brow furrowed as though something was not quite right.

"Are we really changing the prices?"

"Is there a problem?"

As Rusty asked, Rolo hesitated, then took the book and nodded.

"Problem? N-no… I'll get to it."

With that settled, Rusty returned to his usual activities. Rolo stayed up late, a few candles flickering beside him as he adjusted the numbers. The shop was not very large, so there was little to change, and within two hours the work was finished.

Rusty used the time to venture back into the Dungeon and hunt monsters with Gleam, who was close to reaching D rank. In his smaller form, he passed through the dug-out tunnel and made his way to the entrance of the dungeon. At night, with the help of his elemental melding skill, he could slip past the sentries and enter unnoticed.

As always, he and Gleam spent the long night fighting and exploring, only returning a full day later. To Rusty's surprise, the number of visitors at the shop had dropped, and some customers looked openly upset.

"You expect me to pay this much for something like this? You must be joking!"

An angry adventurer glared at a steel greatsword. Behind the counter, Rolo bowed apologetically. For a moment, Rusty thought the child might be in danger, but the man only set the weapon down and stormed out.

"That's strange…" Rusty muttered, watching the customers act far less friendly than usual. Only a few days ago, they had been more than satisfied with his services. The shift was not entirely unexpected, since he had raised prices by nearly half. His shop had always been known for offering the cheapest weapons in the settlement, though not the best ones.

Rusty tried to push the thought aside and went about his days, but the change only became more obvious. At first, he told himself it might be a coincidence. A couple of adventurers who did not step in, a few merchants who browsed but left without buying. Yet by the fifth day, the pattern could not be ignored. The bell above the door, once chiming every morning, now hung silent for long stretches.

Rolo maintained the ledger with diligence, recording every sale, but each night when Rusty reviewed the numbers, the pages grew thinner.

"We only sold three today. Most of our business is just repairing and recharging older weapons."

Rusty studied the ledger and frowned. Sales had not simply dropped by half. They had collapsed to less than ten percent. It was obvious that his agreement with the merchant group was failing, and the reason was plain. Although his prices matched those of other sellers, no one wanted to risk buying weapons from a shop located in the slums. The only items still moving were the enchanted weapons, which were unique enough to stand apart from his competition. Everything else wasn't selling well.

"We can't expect people to trust us after being open for less than two months. But if we keep going and your skills improve, I'm sure they will start buying again."

"I hope so…"

Alexander tried to cheer him up, and for the moment, he only nodded. Less than a week had passed, so the situation did not feel too dire yet. His level was still climbing, and even if sales were poor, he had other ways to earn money and gather new metals. With that in mind, he shrugged it off and returned to the grind.

Using the resources he had gathered from the dungeon, he forged new weapons and continued practicing his blacksmithing while it was still daytime. However, working with his Oswald puppet during the day brought little progress. Fewer and fewer people approached his store. Then, about a week later, a visitor finally appeared, one that he wasn't expecting.

"Good day."

The newcomer was a man Rusty did not recognize, but the merchant guild emblem on his clothes made his affiliation clear. Two guards stood beside him, one on each side of the door, their polished breastplates gleaming, short swords at their hips. Rusty rose from his seat behind the counter, this time dressed in adventurer armor. The man in front adjusted his gloves, and a fake smile spread across his face.

"Ah, Mister Edmund. I trust business has been… acceptable?"

Rusty tilted his head slightly.

"It has been slower than I expected. And you are?"

It was clear where the man came from, but not why he had come. His smile widened as if he were quietly amused. From beneath his cloak, he produced a small leather-bound ledger and tapped it lightly with his gloved hand.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Caldor, a collector on behalf of the Merchant Guild. I have been sent to ensure our agreement is being honored and to receive the monthly dues that guarantee your continued participation in the guild's good graces."

"Dues?"

Rusty's tone was flat. He did not yet fully understand what was happening.

"I should have known. This felt too good to be true."

Alexander sighed as realization dawned on him, though Rusty still waited for an explanation.

"Known what?"

"That they would try to extort us. These dues are nothing more than protection money. If we refuse to pay, they will shun us, cut us off from trade, and perhaps even send someone to destroy the store."

When he heard this, Rusty became maddened, but even though he could handle the two guards, beating them up would do him no good. Instead, he looked at the man and asked for the amount that he was owed. Caldor flipped open his ledger, running a finger down the neatly inked columns.

"The Merchant Guild is most reasonable in its demands, Mister Edmund. The monthly due is based on your shop's standing and potential earnings. In your case, given the quality of your stock, the dues have been calculated at…"

He paused for dramatic effect, then looked Rusty squarely in the eyes.

"One and a half gold coins per month."

Rusty's hand clenched so tightly on the counter that it nearly cracked beneath his grip. One and a half gold coins was no small sum; it was enough to sustain an average family for more than a month. If business had been steady, it would not have mattered, since he had earned triple that amount when the shop first opened. But now his income had dwindled, and he doubted he could even make a single gold coin in a month.

"They know exactly what they're doing."

Aburdon said with a laugh.

"They're bleeding you dry on purpose. If you pay, you'll survive, but you'll never prosper. There is only one path left for us..."

Rusty already knew what Aburdon was about to suggest, so he cut him off.

"I'm not going to kill them, Aburdon."

"Can't blame a demon king for trying~"

For now, he chose to pay. He still had enough saved from the previous month and more tucked away from his dungeon ventures. He set a small pouch on the counter. The coins inside clinked softly, a sound that made Caldor's smile widen even more.

"Excellent. The guild appreciates your cooperation."

Caldor said as he slid the pouch into his cloak with one smooth motion.

"You will find that continued unity brings stability and protection."

Rusty stayed silent, his possessed eyes emotionless under his helmet. From the shelf above, Gleam let out an angry chirp that made the guards stiffen and reach for their weapons. Caldor raised a hand to stop them and spoke.

"There is no need for hostility. We are all friends here."

He turned and walked out, his boots clicking evenly across the floorboards. Rusty was left with Gleam and Rolo in the quiet shop, lost in thought. The dungeon was becoming less and less profitable, and the shop barely kept him afloat. Even so, he needed to keep it running until he grew more skilled at the craft. What he truly needed was another source of income, and there was one place in particular he already had in mind.