Chapter 53: Taste of Comfort

Chapter 53: Taste of Comfort Luma walked into the guest room, and the door closed silently behind her. She stood for a moment, completely still, in awe of what she saw. The room was not what she expected. It was not a dull manager’s office she entered previously, but a space of serene luxury. The walls themselves were carved in intricate floral patterns with fluted Roman columns at each corner, reminiscent of a temple rather than a guest room. In the center was a coffee table made of a seamless sheet of crystalline glass with legs of polished, black metal that gleamed in the soft light. The chairs around it were of an unfamiliar design, rounded and soft, unlike any wooden chairs or benches she had ever seen. The air was clean and smelled faintly of something sweet and floral, a stark contrast to the sharp, earthy odor of the undead she had smelled earlier. It was an environment designed to disarm, and Luma felt her professional guard waver for the first time since her arrival. The manager gestured for her to sit on one of the strange chairs. "Please wait here, Captain. May I offer you some coffee or tea?" Luma frowned, the words foreign to her. "Co-ffee? Tee? What are those?" The manager smiled politely, a dry, pleasant sound that seemed to be a practiced gesture. "My apologies. I forget that such commodities are not yet common. Coffee is a dark, bitter drink made from roasted beans or alternative ones. It’s strong. It wakes you up, clears your head, and keeps sleep at bay. Not sweet, but it kicks the weariness out of your bones. It’s perfect for men and women who need to keep their toes up all night, but it is typically considered a drink for men. Tea, however, is leaves steeped in hot water. It depends on the leaf, but usually it is mild and earthy, sometimes floral. It calms the nerves, warms the chest, and helps you think clearer or rest easier. Its gentler properties make it perfect for women like you, Captain." Luma, her mind still focused on the evaluation, chose dismissively. "Then I’ll take the tea." It was not a matter of preference, but of efficiency. She needed to stay calm and focused. "Tea it is," the manager confirmed. He approached a nearby table and, with practiced motions, began preparing a cup from a small, ornate kettle. Luma, still wary, sat down on the chair he indicated. As she did, she was surprised by the incredible smoothness and give of the material. She sank into it slightly, the fabric molding to her shape with a gentle resistance. It was an alien sensation, a form of comfort she had never experienced. The wooden chairs of her own keep were hard and unyielding; this was the complete opposite. She couldn’t help but ask, her tone colored by genuine astonishment, "What is this? This... this chair?" The manager, noticing her astonishment, chuckled softly. "Soft, isn’t it? We call it a couch. It is stuffed with wool and wrapped in fabric. It is far better than a wooden seat, I’d wager." Luma was truly amazed. "It feels like... sinking into a warm loaf of bread." The manager, now handing her a cup of tea made from a clear, crystalline glass, smiled. "Aye, and you might never want to stand again. Dangerous thing, comfort. It makes you forget you’ve got places to be." Luma carefully took the cup, her fingers brushing the smooth, cool glass. "How is this all possible? A table and a cup made of glass, a chair that sinks you right in. A comforting breath of fresh air. It feels like I’m in a noble’s house." The manager took interest in her comment. "Oh? Do nobles have these kinds of... commodities also?" "I’ve only visited once, they have extensive luxury and design and having furniture or tableware or windows made of glass signifies great status," Luma explained. "Glass is rare, it takes specialized smiths to create. A single pane costs a small fortune. But this chair... this chair is unlike anything I’ve ever felt in a noble’s house. It’s too luxuriantly comfortable. The very fabric feels more finely woven than anything I’ve ever touched." The manager chuckled, a sound of genuine satisfaction. "Yes, that is our business model. Everyone can experience luxury for a small price, regardless of their status or wealth. We are democratizing comfort. What the nobles keep for themselves, we make available to the people." Luma acknowledged his words and brought the cup to her nose, inhaling the tea’s wonderful aroma. She took a careful sip, and the feeling of freshness and a relaxing sensation hit her. She closed her eyes, a small, genuine smile gracing her lips. The taste was unlike any herbal brew she knew, complex and soothing, chasing away the last vestiges of her anxiety. The manager, seeing her satisfaction, said, "I’ll let you enjoy your drink. In the meantime, I will call the owner. He is waiting in the next room." Luma nodded, still savoring the flavor. As he exited, she thought to herself, It’s unlikely for a legion of undead to choose luxury, business, and living in harmony with the living. This isn’t just about safety, it’s about a complete change in the rules of the world. I feel like a new era is coming. Hopefully in a good way. She smiled and sipped her tea, her guard slightly lowered by the unexpected hospitality. Meanwhile, in the next room, Karl was adjusting his suit and tie, a new, almost uncomfortable feeling of formality settling over his bones. The manager entered, his eyes widening slightly. "My lord, you look spectacular in that outfit. Ossario truly is a master." "Oh, please," Karl said, still fussing with the golden handkerchief in his chest pocket. "I’m still starting to get used to this. I don’t know if this looks good on me or not." "No, you look good in that, my lord," the manager insisted. Changing the topic, Karl asked, "How goes the operations upstairs? The opening of the Necro Market?" "The opening is a slow start," the manager reported. "We’ve already accommodated 36 new customers, most of them retailers hoping to purchase a number of our products to resell for a high price." "That’s normal," Karl said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Our quality is high enough that they see an opportunity. But the price should discourage any opportunists looking to rob our customers with high markups." "Yes, my lord," the manager confirmed. "And with the new price I’ve adjusted, it fits well with our business model. We are appealing to both the merchant class and the common folk." Karl changed the topic again. "So, what’s your take on our new ’inspector’?" "She is quite a tempered and a careful one," the manager said. "She has a focused mind, but the spectacle of our operation has clearly unsettled her." "She is a captain, after all," Karl said, shrugging his shoulders. "I would be skeptical too if I saw a skeleton selling goods and not killing. It’s just a matter of gaining her trust." The manager’s voice took on a hint of concern. "Do you think she’ll approve of us, my lord? Or will she be a roadblock?" Karl’s smirk was a thin, confident line on his skull. "She will. As long as your intentions are aligned to making money, excuses and honeying up your words doesn’t make your intentions better. A straight-up, honest truth is the key." He sighed, a faint hiss of air. "I just wished that these inspectors took bribes. It’s a waste of my time. But this is still the initial phase after all. This is how we build our reputation." The manager nodded. "It’s just a matter of time, my lord." "Yeah," Karl agreed, looking at his reflection in a small glass pane on the wall. "It’s still our initial interaction with the people of this land. There’s bound to be corrupt officials we can use to bypass any regulations or feed them to the zealots to gain their approval. After all, this is a world where court and congressional hearings are yet to exist. A word of mouth and a little bit of forged evidence is enough to prosecute anyone. No matter what world we are living in, the world always spins around on money." Karl smirked once more, his posture straightening and becoming confident. He looked in the glass, a regal skeleton in a magnificent suit. "Now let’s go and meet our guest." He started to walk toward the door with a confident stride. "It feels like I’m back on Lockheed again, bootlicking senior executives. Sooner or later, they’ll be the ones bootlicking mine." The door opened, and the air itself seemed to vanish, pressing in on Luma with the weight of ages. Her relaxed posture disappeared instantly, replaced by a sudden, bone-deep fear that gripped her heart like a cold fist. She turned her head, her eyes locking onto the new figure—a skeleton in an expensive suit, an outfit that signified power far beyond that of a mere manager. This was the owner, and his presence was overwhelming in the quiet room. Her hand instinctively flew to the hilt of her sword, her fingers wrapping around the familiar leather grip as if for an anchor. She stood trembling, a deathly pallor washing over her face, the warmth from the tea completely forgotten. The scent of pure, unadulterated undead energy, so potent it felt like a physical weight, was overwhelming her senses. It wasn’t the stale, corrupted smell of a grave or the foul miasma of a reanimated corpse. It was something primal and terrifyingly clean, a scent that spoke of power forged in the heart of death itself. Is this a lich? her thoughts raced, desperately searching for a known category of threat. A lich’s energy was concentrated and corrupt, a scent that enslaved souls. She had trained for this, studied the signs. But this... this was different. This was pure undead, a raw, unrefined essence of death that resonated with a power she couldn’t comprehend. This isn’t a lich, her teeth gritted as her mind screamed. This is an Arc Lich!A being of immense, untethered power, not a pawn of a greater evil, but the evil itself. The revelation, coupled with the potent, suffocating energy Karl unknowingly emitted, was too much for her mind and body to bear. The room spun, her vision went black, and the ground rushed up to meet her as she became unconscious.