Miss Puppet

"A person who can defeat a fourth-level mage, and you only paid them this much? Are you two close?" De Fa asked with an odd tone.

"Not really. He even killed one of my dogs," the old man, Bol, replied with a slight gritting of his teeth.

De Fa's expression became even more peculiar. "So, you tricked him? Aren't you worried he'll come after you for that?"

"Well…" Bol stiffened slightly, clearing his throat. "At first, I didn't know his value. You can't blame me for that."

De Fa remained silent for a moment, then cautiously asked, "Alright then... Is he a mage? Or a fourth-level knight?"

Bol glanced at her and replied calmly, "He's a werewolf."

"A werewolf?" De Fa furrowed her brow.

As a traditional mage, she instinctively felt disdain toward creatures like werewolves, seeing them as vile abominations.

Sensing her hesitation, Bol explained, "Although he's a werewolf, he's different from the others. He's unique—when he transforms, he maintains his full reasoning and can even speak."

"That's impossible!" De Fa instinctively retorted.

"But it's the truth. I've seen it with my own eyes," Bol said firmly. "I wouldn't lie to you, Lady De Fa. You know that."

De Fa, after a moment of thought, muttered, "Maybe it's a new kind of species…"

"I don't know," Bol shrugged. "But he hasn't been a werewolf for long. Before that, he was just a timid, cowardly person. But after being infected with lycanthropy, he completely changed. Confident, carefree—things he never was before."

"You've piqued my interest," De Fa said, her eyes glowing with curiosity.

"I'd advise against taking action against him. You wouldn't be able to defeat him," Bol cautioned.

"I won't force him. I'll take a more... subtle approach," De Fa replied, shifting her demeanor. A charming smile graced her face, and the elegance of her well-maintained features made her seem irresistibly alluring.

Bol's eyelids twitched. "He's just a child."

The sound of trees being felled echoed through the quiet forest.

With each crack and snap, another large tree fell to the ground.

In order to make money more quickly, Glen decided to expand his business. Raising pigs was profitable, but it would take time to accumulate the amount of wealth he needed. And with only a few black pigs, even slaughtering one every couple of months wouldn't be enough to sustain him.

While he could venture further into the forest to hunt more, that wasn't a long-term solution. Instead, he decided to let the remaining black pigs breed freely and wait until their numbers grew enough to sell. In the meantime, he turned his attention to finding another profitable venture.

Glen had an idea: he would become a carpenter.

Before his previous life ended, his childhood neighbor had been a carpenter. Glen and the neighbor's son were close childhood friends, often visiting each other's homes. Over time, he had learned a lot—both intentionally and unintentionally. Glen had even worked with wood himself from time to time. So, he was confident in his carpentry skills.

After cutting down the trees, Glen processed them into logs and began crafting simple furniture. Cutting, drilling, polishing—everything was easy for him now. With his werewolf claws and the fine hairs that acted like steel needles, he didn't even need tools for most of the work.

Soon enough, Glen had crafted a well-made chair, comparing it to the ones his childhood neighbor used to make. The result was nearly identical, which made him feel quite satisfied.

With time still on his side, Glen worked quickly, churning out a dozen more chairs, tables, and stools. The pigpen was fully entrusted to the Night Howler now, so Glen didn't need to check on it as often. He could afford to focus on his woodworking.

"You're making all these things... for what?"

As the sun began to set, the voice of a familiar figure interrupted Glen's work. It was the puppet girl, Aina, sitting on a stone, watching him with curious eyes.

This non-human being had been in the area for some time, quietly observing Glen's activities. She was fascinated by his liveliness, which set him apart from the other townsfolk. While most people here were quiet and reserved, Glen was unusually active and engaging, and that intrigued her.

Glen had noticed Aina's presence earlier but had ignored her, focused on his own tasks. Now that she spoke, however, he had no choice but to respond.

"Of course, I'm going to sell them," Glen replied casually.

Aina seemed to understand, nodding slowly. After a brief pause, she asked, "Are these... furniture? They're so beautiful…"

Her eyes lingered on the various pieces of furniture, and a faint longing could be seen in them.

"You like them?" Glen glanced over at her as he continued working.

Aina nodded enthusiastically.

Glen smiled. "Would you like one?"

She nodded again.

"Forty copper coins each," Glen said, holding up four fingers.

Aina froze for a moment, then looked down at her pristine dress and softly muttered, "I... I don't have any copper coins..."

Glen wasn't surprised by her response. Noticing her downcast expression, he smiled gently and said, "Since you like my work so much, I'll give you one for free this time, Miss Beauty."

His words had the effect he hoped for, as Aina's face lit up with joy. "Really?! That's amazing!"

She leaped up with the lightness of a feather, moving gracefully to where Glen had displayed his furniture.

Glen couldn't help but inwardly admire her agility. So this is the magic of a construct—she's like a puppet, yet moves so fluidly, without the stiffness you'd expect.

After a brief moment of internal contemplation, Aina paused her excited movements. She carefully studied the pieces before selecting a foldable table, one of the more intricate items.

"I want this one. Is that alright?" Aina asked, holding up the table with an eager expression.

"Hm, that's fine," Glen nodded.

Aina's face brightened, and she spun around a few times with the table in hand, her joy palpable.

Is it really that exciting to her? Glen didn't quite understand but didn't dwell on it either.

"By the way," Glen said, noticing her exuberance, "I remember you have a companion. Where are they?"

Aina froze mid-spin, and an impish expression appeared on her face. "I sneaked out! I heard all the noise and came over. My brother is still sleeping."

Her brother? Glen thought, momentarily taken aback. That's odd... He must be another construct, like her, but the way she talks about him is almost too human.

Aina's playful, almost childlike behavior surprised him. For a moment, he almost forgot she was a puppet.

Glen snapped out of his reverie and casually asked, "You and your brother... are both magic constructs, right? Who created you?"

Aina hesitated, her head lowering slightly as she bit her lip. After a few seconds, she murmured, "My brother says we can't talk about our master…"

"It's alright, I was just asking out of curiosity. Don't worry about it," Glen reassured her, seeing her hesitation.

Trying to ease the tension, he quickly changed the subject. "By the way, my name is Glen Nibankru. It's nice to meet you. We're friends now."

Aina looked a little stunned, then suddenly became excited. She awkwardly curtsied, her movements clumsy but endearing. "Glen, sir! I'm Aina Tismon. I'm very happy to meet you too!"

4o