[Null POV] Year 0, Day 42

  "So," Spy said after they'd agreed on the maid café plan. "Void, what actually needs to be done in this world to open a café? What are the requirements?"

  Void considered the question, then shook his head slowly. "I... honestly don't know the local laws. My knowledge of Republic regulations is extremely limited. I was a slave for two centuries—we weren't exactly taught about business licensing procedures."

  "But you must have some idea," Null pressed. "You're from a noble family. Didn't you learn about commerce, trade regulations, that sort of thing?"

  "I learned about MY homeland's systems. Which is a different continent entirely. And even then, my education was cut short when everything changed." He gestured vaguely at his ears, the phantom stumps that had since been restored.

  "So we're completely in the dark?"

  "Not completely. This is the Republic. Everything here ultimately comes down to the Syndicate. If we want to open a business, we'll need their blessing. Or at least, we'll need to navigate their systems."

  Spy's voice carried confusion. "The Syndicate? I've never heard that term before. What is it?"

  Void blinked, surprised. "You don't know about the Syndicate? How is that possible? They control—" He stopped himself. "Right. You're from another world. And Null's knowledge comes from a game that probably didn't model this world's actual power structures."

  "So explain," Null said. "What's the Syndicate?"

  "It's... complicated. To understand the Syndicate, you need to understand how the Republic actually works. Which means I need to give you some history." Void settled into his chair more comfortably, organizing his thoughts. "I mentioned before that the Republic is quite corrupt. That's because of the Syndicate. This country has two ruling structures—the elected Parliament, which changes every ten years, and the Syndicate. But those two aren't even in the same league. The Syndicate is the real power."

  He paused, making sure they were following.

  "The Republic sits on top of the biggest Ley Line in the known world. But this Ley Line is corrupted. It provides all the advantages you'd expect—rich mineral deposits, incredibly fertile land, magical plants growing everywhere, rare resources that don't exist anywhere else. But it also spawns monsters like there's no tomorrow. Not just normal monster populations. The Republic has more monsters than the rest of the continent combined. High-level monsters? It's not even comparable. Ten times more. Maybe a hundred times more. I'm honestly not sure of the exact ratio, but it's... a lot."

  Null absorbed this. "That explains why this is called an adventurer region."

  "Exactly. But it also explains the Republic's entire history." Void leaned forward slightly. "Ten thousand years ago—maybe nine—the Empire ruled this entire continent. They tried repeatedly to colonize this area, to extract its riches. But they never succeeded. Every attempt was overwhelmed by monster stampedes. And those stampedes didn't stay contained—they'd pour out and devastate Imperial territories. Paradise was especially vulnerable."

  "Eventually, the Empire gave up on colonization. Instead, they built a wall. A massive fortification with three sides—north against Empire territory, south against what's now the Kingdom, and west toward the desert where Paradise used to be. They walled it off and tried to forget about it."

  "But people still lived here?" Null asked.

  "Oh yes. The region was populated by a group who called themselves adventurers. Hunters. People willing to live with constant danger in exchange for the incredible wealth monster materials provided. And the Empire created a strange dynamic—they both ruled and didn't rule. The adventurers were never loyal to the Empire. They lived independently, formed their own communities, operated outside Imperial law. But the Empire's power was too overwhelming to challenge directly. Any hint of rebellion was crushed with extreme prejudice. And the Empire played local groups against each other constantly, keeping them fragmented and weak."

  "Over time, the Empire realized something useful. They'd built this nice wall around a resource-rich region full of people who'd do the dangerous work of harvesting those resources. So they taxed everything. Heavily. Monster materials, rare minerals, everything coming in or out of the region. The wall became a customs checkpoint. Paradise provided food, the walled region provided rare materials, and the Empire took a cut of all of it."

  Void's expression darkened. "Then, seven thousand years ago, Paradise was destroyed. Every province in the Empire saw that catastrophe and tested the Empire's strength. Probed for weakness. Most were cautious. The Republic was not."

  "Instant rebellion. Within months, the Empire was kicked out of this region entirely."

  "That fast?" Spy sounded surprised.

  "The adventurers here had been waiting for an opportunity. They were skilled, organized, and knew the terrain intimately. The moment the Empire showed weakness, they struck. Hard." Void paused. "What followed was the bloodiest century this region had ever seen."

  "The Empire sent armies. Massive armies. Used superweapons. Razed everything to the ground repeatedly. The adventurers responded with guerrilla warfare. Large parties of skilled warriors conducting hit-and-run attacks. The Empire bled heavily. And the constant fighting disrupted the local monster populations, causing stampedes. One particularly bad stampede during that period was only stopped at the gates of the Imperial capital itself, up north."

  "After a hundred years of this, the Empire gave up. Officially, they made some face-saving agreement claiming the region was still under Imperial rule but with 'full autonomy.' Complete fiction. The reality was the Empire had lost all control. They officially announced their withdrawal two thousand years later, declaring the Republic the 'last colony to gain independence.' But that was just ceremony. The actual independence happened in the first hundred years."

  Null processed this. "And the adventurers who won that war... they became the Syndicate?"

  "Part of it. But there's more context." Void continued. "After the Republic gained independence, the rest of the Empire saw that fighting was possible. What followed was two thousand years of collapse wars. Every region rebelling, fighting for independence, carving out their own territories. The Empire slowly lost everything. Many historians believe the Empire lost more in those first hundred years fighting the Republic than in the entire two thousand years of slow decline that followed. That's how brutal the fighting was here. How heavily they bled."

  Void's expression grew darker. "There's a famous story about that period. In the entire Republic, there's only one structure left from Empire times. A single castle. Tourist attraction now. For some reason the Empire forgot to destroy it when they flattened everything else - usually from airships. Everything else? Gone. They flattened it all."

  "During those two millennia of Empire collapse, the Republic was the only region free from war. Everyone else was fighting. So the Republic, with all its monster materials, rare metals, and abundant resources, became a safe haven. A trading hub. They sold to everyone. Empire loyalists, rebels, independent states, anyone with gold. Weapons, armor, supplies, everything you need to wage war. They exported to all sides and grew fantastically wealthy."

  "And nobody stopped them?" Null asked.

  "The Empire didn't dare. Those first hundred years fighting the Republic were too brutal. Too painful a memory. You could say that war broke the camel's back—the Empire spent so much blood and treasure here that they were fundamentally weakened. What followed was two thousand years of slow decline, but the critical damage was done in those first hundred years. They simply didn't have the will to try again."

  "All that funding of wars made the Republic's guilds incredibly powerful. And I mean powerful. The Adventurer's Guild that emerged here became the template. Every other adventurer organization on this continent and beyond was formed later, using the Republic's guild as their model. They're independent organizations in their own countries, inspired by what the Republic created. But the Republic's Adventurer's Guild itself? It operates only within Republic borders. Has near-zero influence or presence outside this region."

  "The other three members of the Syndicate, though?" Void's tone grew more serious. "The Banking Guild, Merchant's Guild, and Dwarven Union—they took over EVERYTHING. Every continent they could reach. Every market they could access. Complete domination of their respective fields. Banking systems, trade networks, craftsman guilds—if it involves money, commerce, or production, the Syndicate controls it."

  "Other three?" Spy asked.

  "The Syndicate consists of four organizations. The Adventurer's Guild, which I just explained. The Banking Guild, which controls financial systems across multiple continents. The Merchant's Guild, which dominates trade. And the Dwarven Union."

  "That last name is misleading," Void added. "It was founded by dwarves, yes, but it acts more like a massive umbrella organization for various craftsman guilds and unions. Seventy to eighty percent of craftsmen in the known world are linked to them. Together with the Banking and Merchant's Guilds, they form an incredibly powerful monopoly that controls... well, almost everything economic."

  "How powerful?" Null asked.

  "Let me give you an example." Void's tone grew more serious. "About four thousand years ago, the continent I originate from—which is roughly the same size as this one—was united by its rulers. They even established footholds on other continents. Named themselves the New Empire. Ambitious. Successful. Growing rapidly."

  "But they made one critical mistake. They didn't like the Syndicate's control over so much of their economy—monetary systems, trade routes, production infrastructure. So they tried to kick the Syndicate out."

  "Big mistake."

  "The Syndicate went completely ballistic. Launched a financial war of unprecedented scale. Threw mountains of gold at anyone willing to destabilize the New Empire or fight them. Hired every mercenary company available. Funded every rebel group. Signed the largest adventurer contracts in history."

  "The New Empire collapsed in less than a year."

  Null and Spy were silent.

  "But worse followed," Void continued quietly. "All those mercenaries, all those adventurer parties, all those forces the Syndicate had hired—they'd been promised payment and loot rights. When they finally arrived at the New Empire, ready to fight... there was no enemy left. The Empire had already collapsed. So they asked the Syndicate: 'What should we do now?'"

  "And the Syndicate said: 'We don't care anymore. Go home. Loot if you want. Just don't touch anything with our logo.'"

  "And loot they did. For the next decade. Completely. Systematically. The only structures that remained safe were ones bearing Syndicate markings. Everything else was fair game. Cities burned. Infrastructure was stripped. Wealth was taken. Population centers were devastated."

  "Eventually, what remained of that continent's people—whatever rulers survived, whatever communities persisted—came begging to the Syndicate to call off the madness. The Syndicate agreed. But they wanted compensation."

  "The 'Sin Tax,'" Void said. "For five thousand years, one percent of every transaction on that entire continent goes to the Syndicate. Started four thousand years ago. Still has a thousand years remaining."

  The room was completely silent.

  "That," Void said quietly, "is the Syndicate. Four guilds that function as a parallel society in the Republic. They generally don't interfere with state affairs and let the Parliament do whatever it wants. But if they do get involved? Nothing can challenge them. The state is dysfunctional because everyone knows the Syndicate is the real power."

  "All those conflicts between the Republic and the Kingdom? That's between the states. If the Syndicate actually got involved in any serious way? The Kingdom would be gone. Completely. The power disparity is that extreme."

  "But they don't involve themselves," Spy observed.

  "No. Each guild only cares about its specific interests. The Banking Guild wants more gold. The Merchant's Guild wants more trade. The Dwarven Union is full of craftsmen passionate about their work but with little interest in politics. And the Adventurer's Guild? The leadership is all retired adventurers. Three hundred to four hundred years old. They've lost all interest in taking risks. No more adrenaline. Most of them just want their remaining six hundred years to be peaceful and comfortable. They earn good salaries in guild positions and have no desire to rock the boat."

  "Despite," Void added, "the Republic's Adventurer's Guild probably having more high-level fighters and adventurers—by an order of magnitude—than all other powers on this continent combined. They could take over everything if they wanted. But effort? No. Risk? No. They just want peace."

  "That's... incredibly passive for such a powerful organization," Spy commented.

  "It is. And everyone knows it. But nobody exploits it because the Syndicate is still a sleeping tiger. Passive, yes. But extremely dangerous if provoked. Better to leave them alone. Remember the Sin Tax? That's what happens when you anger them."

  "And that Blood Cult incident," Null said slowly. "The shield breaker with all those security codes..."

  "Exactly," Void confirmed. "The cultists probably stole codes from multiple Syndicate organizations over time. Banks, guilds, various institutions. When that was exposed, the Republic didn't just prosecute them—they annihilated them. The Syndicate doesn't take theft well. Even the Adventurer's Guild, passive as they are, moved decisively on that."

  He sat back, the history lesson complete.

  "So to answer your original question, Spy: opening a café here means navigating Syndicate systems. This area is under direct Adventurer's Guild control—Borderwatch answers to them, not Parliament. We'll probably need Guild approval. Licenses. Permits. Whatever bureaucracy they've established."

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  "Do you know what those requirements are?" Null asked.

  "No. I told you—I don't know Republic business law. I wasn't exactly in a position to learn about café licensing procedures while I was a slave." Void's tone was dry but not bitter. Just factual.

  "So what do we do?" Spy asked.

  "We ask someone who does know." Void stood. "Mira. The innkeeper. She runs a successful business here. She'll know the local requirements, how to navigate the system, where to start. If anyone can tell us what we actually need to do, it's her."

  Null stood as well. "That makes sense. She's been helpful before."

  "She has. And she seems to genuinely like us, which helps. People are more willing to share information when they're disposed favorably toward you."

  "Should we go now?" Null asked.

  "Might as well. No point delaying." Void headed for the door. "Though I should warn you—opening a business, even with Syndicate approval, is going to be complicated. Expensive, definitely. Time-consuming, probably. We have the money, but money doesn't solve all problems instantly."

  "We have time too," Spy noted. "And motivation. And several hundred million gold. Those are good starting resources."

  "True." Void opened the door. "Let's see what Mira can tell us."

  They headed downstairs together, Null following at proper battlemaid distance even though they were alone. Old habits. Comfortable patterns.

  The inn's common room was moderately busy—evening crowd, adventurers finishing dinner, merchants discussing trade. Mira was behind the counter, organizing orders and managing staff with practiced efficiency.

  She looked up as they approached, her expression shifting to recognition and warmth.

  "Young master! Miss Null! Good evening. What can I do for you?"

  Void glanced around the common room. Several people within earshot. Not ideal for detailed business discussions.

  "Good evening, Mira. We have some questions. Business questions. Is there somewhere more private we could talk?"

  Mira's eyebrows rose slightly—interest, curiosity, but not concern. "Of course. Give me just a moment to delegate." She called over one of her staff, gave quick instructions, then gestured toward a side door. "My office. We can speak privately there."

  They followed her through the door into a small but well-organized space. Desk covered in ledgers and paperwork. Shelves with supplies. A window overlooking the street. Comfortable chairs for visitors.

  Mira closed the door and settled behind her desk. "So. Business questions. This sounds interesting. What are you two planning?"

  Void glanced at Null, then back to Mira. "We're thinking of opening a café. A proper establishment. High quality."

  Mira's eyebrows rose. "A café? Here in Borderwatch?" She looked genuinely surprised. "That's... unexpected. May I ask why?"

  "We have the resources," Void said simply. "And we think there's demand for it. Something upscale. Well-run. A place people would want to visit."

  Mira studied them both for a long moment. Then she leaned back in her chair, expression thoughtful. "Well. I certainly won't discourage competition—healthy for business, keeps everyone honest. And you're right about having resources. But before we go further, I need to ask: are you planning lodging?"

  Void blinked. "Lodging?"

  "Rooms. Beds. Sleeping accommodations." Mira's tone was patient, like explaining something obvious. "For your café."

  "I... no? We were thinking just the café itself. Food, drinks, service."

  Mira shook her head. "Won't work. Not in this area. There's a Guild regulation—and it's strictly enforced—that any establishment serving food and drinks indoors must also provide lodging. There's a ratio you need to meet. Minimum number of beds based on your serving capacity."

  "Why?" Null asked, her voice quiet but clear.

  Mira looked at her—briefly surprised the battlemaid spoke, but she recovered quickly and addressed Void. "Young master, may your companion speak freely here?"

  "She may," Void confirmed.

  "Good." Mira turned her attention to Null. "The reason is practical, miss. This area desperately needs more lodging options for adventurers. High-end places like mine exist, but lower-cost options are almost completely sold out. Always full. The Guild recognized that cafés and bars make most of their money from food and alcohol, not from rooms. So they instituted the rule: if you want to serve food indoors, you must also provide beds. It forces establishments to contribute to the lodging shortage."

  "Food stalls are exempt," she continued. "Street vendors, outdoor cafés, those sorts of things. But the Guild is very strict about enforcement. They watch for people trying to game the system—technically outdoor seating but functionally indoor operations. If you want a proper indoor café, you need rooms."

  Void absorbed this. "So we'd be opening an inn with a café, not just a café."

  "Exactly. Which actually isn't a bad thing—inns are profitable if run well. But it does increase your initial investment and operational complexity."

  "Do you know of any available properties?" Void asked. "Existing buildings we could convert?"

  Mira shook her head. "Nothing suitable that I'm aware of. Everything remotely appropriate is already in use. But—" she held up a hand before they could look too disappointed "—the Guild offers land grants. Free land, actually. If you commit to building and operating an inn for at least twenty years, they'll give you a plot. Good locations too. They want to encourage development."

  "Free land," Spy's voice came through the mental connection. "That's... actually generous."

  "Very generous," Mira confirmed, apparently reading Void's thoughtful expression. "The Guild benefits from more lodging, you benefit from free property. Everyone wins. Though you'll need to cover all construction costs yourself, obviously."

  "Obviously." Void paused. "What's the process? How do we actually apply for this?"

  "You'll need a Guild card first," Mira said, pulling out her own and setting it on the desk. It looked like a small metal plate, inscribed with runes and her information. "Even for non-adventuring business, all Guild-regulated activities require proper registration. Can't interact with the Guild officially without one."

  "These cards are used by all Syndicate-linked organizations in the Republic," she added. "Banking, trade, everything. I've even heard they work outside this continent—adventurers have told me stories about using them to access funds abroad. Very convenient system."

  "We'd both need cards?" Void asked.

  "Just the owner. Or whoever represents the business officially. If you're going to be the registered owner, young master, then you. Your companion wouldn't need one unless she's also listed as a partial owner."

  "Just me, then." Void glanced at Null. Through their connection: "Simpler. Less exposure for you."

  "Agreed."

  "Good," Mira said. "Applications for new businesses are reviewed once a month. There's a small council that advises the Guild on city planning—local business owners, Guild officials, people with relevant expertise. I'm actually on it. We evaluate proposals, make recommendations. In my five years on the council, I've never seen an application for an inn or similar establishment declined. The Guild wants more lodging. They approve almost everything."

  "Almost?" Void caught the qualifier.

  "Anyone on the Syndicate blacklist is forbidden from operating any business in Guild-controlled areas. But assuming you're not on that list—and I rather doubt you are—you should have no problems."

  "What about workers?" Null asked. "Do they need to register too?"

  "Not with the Guild, no. Just the owner or if you want anyone to represent you in the guild. Employees are your responsibility to manage. Though if you're hiring adventurers for security or specialized roles, they'll already have their own cards."

  Mira leaned forward slightly. "Now, you said café. What kind of café specifically? What's your concept?"

  Void hesitated. Glanced at Null. Through their connection, Spy and Null quickly fed him information, clarifying details.

  "A maid café," he said finally.

  Mira's expression went blank. "A... what?"

  "Maid café. It's a concept where—" Void struggled for words, drawing on the explanations Spy and Null were feeding him "—where the staff are dressed as maids. High-quality service. Themed dining experience. Entertainment alongside food and drinks."

  Mira stared at him. Then at Null. Then back at him.

  Her gaze settled on Null for a long moment, studying her battlemaid uniform, her composed posture, her unusual presence.

  "I see," Mira said slowly. A long pause. "That's... certainly unique. I don't think I've ever heard of such a concept. Though I suppose it makes a certain kind of sense, given your companion's presentation."

  She shook her head slightly, as if clearing her thoughts. "Before we go further, there's something you need to know. A Republic law that applies to all establishments offering lodging."

  Her tone shifted—more serious, more careful.

  "Every female working in a place that offers sleeping accommodations must have a price set."

  Void's expression went completely neutral. *"A price."

  "For... bed warming services." Mira's voice was matter-of-fact, professional. "If a customer requests such services, there must be an option available. However—and this is important—the price is entirely up to the worker. If someone doesn't want to provide such services, they can set an impossibly high price. Millions or even billions of gold. Whatever makes it effectively unavailable. The law just requires that a price exists."

  She continued quickly, seeing Void's expression. "It's actually a protective law. It helps women working in inns earn extra income if they choose. And it provides legal framework and protections for those who do offer such services. The same law supports brothels operating under safe, regulated conditions."

  Mira paused, looking uncomfortable herself. "The Guild can make exceptions to this law if needed. They have that authority. I'm mentioning it now because if you're planning to hire female staff for your maid café, this will apply. You'll need to address it during the application process."

  Null's face remained expressionless, but through their connection, Void felt her... processing. Analyzing. Not outrage, just cold calculation about implications.

  "So brothels are legal and integrated into the inn system," Spy observed. "And we'd have to set prices for all female staff, even if those prices are impossibly high."

  "The Guild can make exceptions," Void noted through the connection. "Mira emphasized that. Twice."

  "We'll address it during application," Null said flatly. "Not a dealbreaker. Just another regulation."

  Mira was watching Void's face carefully. "I know it's strange. Especially for someone from outside the Republic. But it's how things work here. And truly, most women in the industry set prices so high that nobody ever pays. It's symbolic more than practical in most cases."

  "Though," she added, looking slightly embarrassed, "I should clarify—it does get used sometimes. The law helps girls working in inns supplement their income significantly if they choose to engage with it."

  Null spoke quietly, her voice careful. "Has anyone ever... paid the impossible price?"

  Mira's expression shifted—surprise, then something more complicated. She was quiet for a moment, then let out a small breath.

  "You'll probably hear this story eventually. It's somewhat famous around here." She paused, choosing her words. "Thirty years ago, I worked at an inn in this area. I had my price set at what I thought was safe—impossibly high. One hundred million gold. More wealth than I could imagine."

  "Someone paid it."

  The room went very still.

  "I don't even know his name," Mira continued, her voice matter-of-fact but with an undercurrent of something else. "All I know is that in the morning, when I asked why, he said 'I like forbidden fruits' and left. This inn?" She gestured around them. "Built with part of that money."

  She paused, something complicated crossing her face. "And a child, nine months later. Used a lot of it to educate her properly and get her established in the central regions. She works there now."

  Void's face was carefully neutral. Null processed this silently.

  "So yes," Mira said, meeting Null's eyes directly. "The impossible can happen. That's why I tell everyone—set your price as high as you truly need it to be. And understand that nothing is ever completely safe. But stories like mine are extraordinarily rare. Most women work their entire lives without anyone ever approaching their price."

  Null suddenly remembered—sounds she'd heard from other rooms in this very inn. Girls entering, then... activities. Mira's staff, earning extra income.

  "So that's what that was," she thought distantly. Not judgment. Just recognition.

  "Understood," Void said aloud. "We'll work with the Guild on that aspect when we apply. What else do we need to know?"

  Mira looked relieved to move on. "Inspections. As long as your establishment isn't actually dangerous to guests—food safety, building safety, basic standards—nobody really checks. The Guild operates on a complaint-based system."

  "If there are complaints?" Void asked.

  "Guild sends inspectors. Usually someone from the council. But false complaints backfire fast—the Guild and Syndicate don't appreciate wasted time. Penalties for fraudulent claims are severe. So it's rare."

  "Taxes?"

  "Paid quarterly to the Guild. They'll explain the rates during registration. Fair rates, generally. The Guild wants businesses to succeed."

  "Construction requirements?"

  "All buildings must be constructed by Syndicate-certified builders. That means craftsmen linked to the Dwarven Union or their approved contractors. They'll have the proper stamps and documentation. It's non-negotiable—the Guild will verify before approving occupancy."

  "And if we want to sell merchandise?" Void asked. "Items beyond just food and drinks?"

  "Then you'll want Merchant Guild membership as well. They operate out of the same building as the Adventurer's Guild. Easy to apply for both at once. Membership fees are reasonable, and it opens up a lot of supply chain options. Better wholesale prices, access to trade networks, legal protections for commerce."

  Mira leaned back, having covered the basics. "That's the overview. Any specific questions?"

  Void looked at Null. Through their connection: "Thoughts?"

  "Manageable. Complicated, but we have resources to handle it. The price-setting law is annoying but not insurmountable. Everything else seems straightforward."

  "Agreed."

  "This is very helpful," Void said to Mira. "Thank you for explaining so thoroughly."

  "Of course. I remember being new to Republic regulations myself. They're different from other regions. More... direct. Less bureaucracy in some ways, more in others. But generally workable if you know what you're doing."

  "One more question," Void said. "Timeline. How long does the approval process typically take?"

  "Application review is monthly, as I mentioned. Submit your proposal, the council evaluates it, usually approval comes within a week of the meeting. Then you need to finalize land selection—the Guild has plots mapped out, you choose from available options. Once that's settled, construction can begin. How long construction takes depends on what you're building and how many craftsmen you can afford to hire."

  "With your resources?" Mira glanced meaningfully at Null, at the implications of their obvious wealth. "You could probably have a place ready within a few months if you push for it. Maybe faster if you pay premium rates for expedited work."

  "A few months," Void repeated. "That's... reasonable."

  "Very reasonable for this kind of project. Most people take a year or more because they're scraping together funds as they go. You don't have that limitation."

  Mira stood, indicating the meeting was concluding. "Is there anything else you need to know right now?"

  Void stood as well, Null rising smoothly with him. "I think that covers our immediate questions. We'll need to discuss this more between us, plan our actual proposal. But you've given us an excellent starting point."

  "I'm glad I could help. And truly—I think a high-end maid-themed establishment could do well here. Borderwatch is growing. We're attracting wealthier clientele after that mega-auction. Something unique and well-executed? That would draw attention. Interest. Business."

  She walked them to the office door. "When you're ready to apply, let me know. I can introduce you to the right Guild officials, smooth the process. Professional courtesy between business owners."

  "We appreciate that."

  "Of course. And young master?" Mira's expression turned slightly more serious. "The maid café concept. The price-setting law. I'd recommend being very clear in your application about how you plan to handle that. Make it obvious you're running a legitimate themed restaurant, not a... different kind of establishment. The Guild will approve either way, but being explicit helps avoid misunderstandings."

  "Understood. We'll be very clear."

  They left the office, returned through the common room, and climbed the stairs back to their own room.

  Once inside with the door closed, the three of them processed what they'd learned.

  "Well," Spy said. "That was... informative."

  "Incredibly informative," Void agreed. "Also more complicated than I expected. An inn with a café, not just a café. Mandatory lodging requirements. That price-setting law. Syndicate-certified builders. Guild cards. Monthly application reviews."

  "But doable," Null said. "We have the money. We have the time. We just need to plan properly."

  "The price-setting law though," Void said carefully. "That's going to be an issue. Anyone we hire will have to comply with it. Even if the prices are set impossibly high."

  "We'll address it," Spy said firmly. "Mira was clear—the Guild can make exceptions. And if they won't make full exceptions, we work within the system. Set prices so high nobody would ever pay. Make it clear in hiring that actual participation is optional and controlled by the individual. Handle it professionally."

  "And," Spy added, "we make absolutely certain in our application that we're running a maid-themed restaurant and inn, not a brothel. Clear differentiation. No ambiguity."

  "Agreed," Null said. "So what's our next step?"

  "Planning," Void said. "Detailed planning. We need to figure out exactly what we're building. How many rooms. How large a dining area. What kind of staff we'll need. What our concept actually looks like in practice."

  "Then we draft an application. Present it to the Guild. Get our land. Hire builders. Make this real."

  "Months of work," Spy observed.

  "Months of work," Void confirmed. "But we're committed. This gives Null a way to exist in this world that isn't just silent weapon. That alone makes it worth doing."

  Null nodded slowly. "Yes. It does."

  She looked out the window at Borderwatch—the village that was becoming a city. The place where they'd accidentally become local celebrities. Where merchants taught her words and children had given her flowers and everything had become unexpectedly complicated.

  "Let's build something," she said quietly. "Something that's ours. Something where I can actually talk to people and learn and exist as more than just your shadow."

  "Then that's what we'll do," Void agreed.

  And with that decision made, they began planning their future.

  A maid café in the Republic. Funded by Blood Cult gold. Staffed by people who didn't yet know they'd be working for the most dangerous thing in the region.

  It would be interesting.

  At minimum.