Social Recluse

"Bairan."

"Yes, My Master!"

The gaunt, white-haired man materialized as if he had been waiting his entire existence for Northern's call. As if every crawling, flying second of his life had been spent in endless anticipation.

He was even smiling.

Shaking off Bairan's smug grin from his thoughts, Northern glanced at the shopkeeper before turning back to Bairan.

"This man has promised me his loyalty. But of course, I can't trust him. So, I want you to break him—reshape him in such a way that he understands he has only one choice: to be my servant. If he so much as thinks of doing otherwise, he should come to know that there exists a fate far worse than death."

The shopkeeper's face lost all color as Northern's words sank into his bones.

His gaze darted toward the strangely approachable yet inexplicably foreboding man before him.