There were a few new staff members in the Zhuoge Toy Store.
Yes, due to Zhuoge and his crew's somewhat limited cultural knowledge, he eventually just named the store after himself.
After all, the Akleits across the street had done the same thing.
Zhuoge, being one of the continent's most recognizable villains, thought the name had an ironic charm. A toy store called "Zhuoge" felt absurd and tongue-in-cheek—perfectly expressing the store owner's ambition to make toys that stood out from the crowd.
At least, that's how he convinced himself the name was a good idea.
The new clerks were local girls hired from town—because, frankly, his usual bunch of misfits weren't exactly suited for retail.
The store was quiet. After a full week, sales barely scraped past five silver coins—and a few of those were "courtesy purchases" by Sir Bain.
Still, Zhuoge wasn't worried. Once Blazing Yo-Yo Warriors picked up momentum and the story heated up, business would follow.
In the meantime, he figured he might as well study magic. Dragon magic was encoded in his genes—no need to study that; it came naturally. But when it came to real, structured magic? He knew nothing.
He'd never cared before. After all, even an eighth-ring firestorm spell couldn't compare to a blast of dragon breath. But now that he was walking a new path, a little extra learning wouldn't hurt.
And to his surprise, once he started, he found himself exceptionally gifted. His magical aptitude was freakishly high. Maybe that massive dragon head of his wasn't just for show.
While he dove headfirst into spellbooks, Aisha was the one who looked like a nervous wreck—like a rookie web novelist constantly refreshing their stats dashboard.
She stared at Zhuoge like he was wasting his talents, eyes full of disappointed hope.
They were in this together, after all. If the yo-yo business tanked, who else was going to pay her twenty-five silver coins a month?
Toto agreed wholeheartedly.
So she poured herself into developing new yo-yo tricks, determined to make as much as possible before inevitable bankruptcy.
She looked like someone who hadn't slept in days—pale, hollow-eyed, hair greasy and plastered to her head, hands moving with stiff precision as she mumbled to herself, "Five silver coins… five silver coins… hehehehehe…"
The goblins had already started betting on which day she'd collapse and die right there in the store.
"Ding-a-ling—"
The bell above the door rang.
A middle-aged man stepped inside. Despite the summer heat, he wore a tailcoat, a top hat, and leaned on a cane.
Even though the store had a clock, he made a show of checking a pocket watch—oozing the kind of pretentious flair someone might use while roleplaying a noble.
He didn't look like someone interested in yo-yos. Nor like someone who'd ever read Blazing Yo-Yo Warriors.
Back when they submitted the comic to every paper they could find, most mainstream publishers dismissed it outright—only the tabloids had picked it up.
The man politely refused help from the staff and started wandering the store, picking up various yo-yos to try. He couldn't figure out how to use any of them, but he made sure to critique each one.
"The color scheme lacks elegance."
"Bit rough on the craftsmanship."
"Clearly doesn't understand what children want."
And if that wasn't annoying enough, he added snide little noises: "Heh heh, oh dear, hmph, tsk tsk…"
Maybe it was just the time of the month, but Aisha's patience was paper-thin.
She watched him with growing irritation, practically itching to release the store's orcs on him.
After several laps around the store, the man finally approached her and offered a courteous bow.
"Lovely lady, you must be the owner of this fine establishment."
"I am," Aisha replied flatly.
"Anger is terrible for the complexion, you know."
Aisha reminded herself: You are a Level 2 illusionist. The top special effects designer for yo-yos. Manager of a toy store. You earn twenty-five silver coins a month. Be mature.
She fought the powerful urge to slap the smug look off his face.
The man continued, "I'm Hakan Akleit. I run a small toy shop. Conveniently located right across the street."
"Wow, really? I never would've guessed. That's just so impressive. Want me to reward you with a yo-yo?"
Hakan ignored the sarcasm.
"My store's doing a bit better than yours, I'm afraid. But if you ever find yourself unemployed, you're welcome to come work for me. You'd make an excellent clown."
He didn't give her a chance to retort. He turned and left the store, bowing dramatically at the door and calling out, "Hope to see you at my shop soon!"
Aisha hit boiling point.
Back at the Akleit Toy Store, Hakan was in a great mood.
His younger brother asked anxiously, "Well? How's their business doing?"
"Totally harmless. When I saw how fast they renovated and opened, I thought they might be something serious. But they sold less in a week than we do in an hour."
"That's weird. I thought their yo-yo designs were pretty clever. Could be a lot of potential there." He was holding a yo-yo, already taken apart into two halves.
"Don't worry about yo-yos. Just keep making toys the way you want. That shop won't last long."
Hakan took off his coat, poured himself a drink, and downed it in one go. He sneered, "Zhuoge? What, does he think he's got a real dragon in there?"
The Akleit Toy Store was a family-run business. Hakan handled operations, while his brother Kalaman designed and built the toys.
Night fell, and Cornflower Street grew quiet.
As Hakan closed up, he cast one last look at Zhuoge's shop—it had closed early, another clear sign of poor business.
Success was sweet, but watching your rival fail? Even sweeter.
Back at home, he ordered the servants to prepare a lavish dinner. It was time to celebrate.
Family dinners were always a warm affair.
Though he'd made his fortune selling toys, he didn't want any of his three children to follow in his footsteps.
The reason was simple: selling toys would never make you a noble.
Even if royalty played with his toys, to other nobles, he was still just a merchant.
So he'd sent his children to the best schools. If they could awaken a magical gift and become a fifth-circle mage, they could earn a title.
If not, they'd at least become lawyers, doctors, scholars—anything but toy sellers.
Dinner was ready soon enough. After a prayer to the goddess of magic, the family prepared to eat—only to realize someone was missing.
"Where's Ben?" Hakan asked.
Ben was his youngest son—and the brightest. Teachers at his school said he had a shot at getting into Pelenta.
That was one of the Twin Towers—the headquarters of both the Science Academy and the Technology Guild. Even nobles showed respect to scholars from there.
Ben had to stay focused. No distractions.
"He's probably upstairs studying," said his wife. "I called him down a few times, but he didn't come."
"I'll go get him," Hakan said, grabbing Ben's favorite dessert to sweeten the mood.
He went upstairs and knocked lightly.
"Ben, it's me."
"Just a second!" came the reply, followed by frantic sounds of someone tidying up.
Hakan frowned.
He tried the doorknob—it was locked.
"I told you no locked doors in this house. What are you doing in there?"
"Nothing!" came the rushed answer. A few scurrying footsteps later, Ben opened the door, standing there in his pajamas.
"I was just tired from studying and took a nap. Locked the door so the servants wouldn't bother me."
"Servants can't enter your room without permission. Did you forget?"
"But I—"
Before Ben could finish, Hakan pushed past him into the room, eyes scanning every corner like a seasoned investigator.
Something caught his eye—a book with a folded sheet tucked inside.
He pulled it out. Unfolded it.
It was a page from a tabloid—full of colorful comics.
"What's this? Blazing Yo-Yo Warriors?" he read the ridiculous title aloud.
"This is what you're wasting your time on?"
Without waiting, he ripped the paper apart.
"Don't! That's my classmate's—" Ben's voice cracked, close to tears.
"You're supposed to be headed for Pelenta! I work my hands to the bone so you can waste time on this?"
He threw the shredded paper onto the desk with a heavy thud.
"Clang—"
He heard a sound.
Frowning, Hakan turned toward the source. Two small, round objects had tumbled from a shelf built into the desk, rolling slightly before stopping near his feet.
He bent down and picked them up.
Two yo-yos. One read "Firestorm Warrior", the other "Blazing Dragon Core."
"A yo-yo?" he muttered.