I spent the entire afternoon working steadily, hammer in hand, banging away at the metal. The repetitive clang rung through the forge, almost like it was cheering me on. It felt like I had my own personal soundtrack while I shaped and molded my creation. You know that sound, don’t you? It’s the sound of magic and metal meeting in a dance of fire and force.

A drop of sweat trickled down my face and splashed onto the floor. The heat radiated from the smelting fires all around me. I paused for a moment, catching my breath and wiping my forehead with the back of my hand. The forge was like a world unto itself, filled with the metal scent of hot iron and the smell of burning coal. Trust me, it was privileged in its own way, even if it felt like I was living in a dragon’s belly.

Then the loud clatter of wagons jolted me from my focus. I looked up, squinting at two large transport carts drawn by horses rumbling toward the forge. Each wheel rolled with a dawdling bump and the creaking of the wooden carts. My heart skipped a beat when I recognized the figure sitting beside the driver on the lead wagon.

I tilted my head sideways and yelled, “Ossan! It’s Dax!”

Now, let me tell you about Dax. He’s a gremlin, small, wiry, and always wearing that sharp, mischievous grin like he knows something you don’t. You see, gremlins like him are the ultimate hustlers. They’ve got this ability for wheeling and dealing that makes them both charming and a little unnerving. Dax was no exception. He could talk you into buying just about anything with his silver tongue, and trust me, he often did.

Bromir’s head snapped up from his workbench, his brow furrowing in concern. The usual whirr of the forge seemed to fade away as his gruff voice cut through the noise. “Hide your things, kid!” he barked.

I didn’t need to be told twice. I quickly draped a canvas cloth over my latest creation, a complex assembly of gun parts I’d been putting together. The fabric settled over the pieces, concealing my work from prying eyes.

Dax swaggered into the forge with a grin that could light up a dark alley. “Hello, Bromir,” he greeted cheerfully before turning to me with a nod. “And you too, Kira-san.”

With arms folded across his chest, Bromir eyed the gremlin warily. “What brings you here this time, Dax?”

Dax’s grin widened, and he leaned in like he was about to share a secret. “I’m here to deliver goods for my Dunverholm customers, of course.”

I narrowed my eyes disbelievingly, mirroring Bromir’s guarded stance. “That’s funny. I thought your assistants handled all the deliveries.”

Dax chuckled, his laughter high-pitched and slightly squeaky. “Oh, come on, Kira-san. You and Bromir are my favorite inventors. I simply had to come and express my gratitude for your patronage.” His gaze flicked back to Bromir. “I noticed you’ve stopped ordering from me, Bromir.”

“Oh! About that,” Bromir stammered, shifting his attention toward me as if I could somehow back him up. Instead, I looked up at the ceiling and whistled nonchalantly.

“I asked someone else to help me order the things I need,” Bromir finally replied, clearly grasping for a lifeline. “Durak! Yes! Durak’s been handling my orders.”

“Ah, I see,” Dax replied, nodding along. “I thought you’d switched to a new trader.” His laughter filled the room, met by Bromir’s visible sigh of relief.

“Cut the sales pitch, Dax,” I interjected sharply. “Tell us the real reason for your visit.”

Dax’s eyes gleamed eagerly. “My boss has a proposal for you, Kira-san.”

“The boss of the Online Store you’ve never met?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Yes!” He replied spiritedly.

“The one whose office is in the Merchant Guild building you’ve never visited before?” I threw another.

Dax nodded, that grin still plastered on his face. “Exactly!”

“Do you take me for a fool, Dax?” I snapped.

“I assure you, Kira-san, I’m just the middleman,” he protested innocently. “I handle customer orders, and the items magically appear in my warehouse at Grimlock a few days later.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll humor you,” I relented with a sigh. “What does your boss want?”

Dax’s eyes sparkled. “He wants you to invent a new thing. A modification, to be exact.”

“A modification of what?” My brows scrunched.

Dax’s gaze darted to an object on my workbench. “That.”

“The figurine?” I narrowed my gaze. “Does your boss want a new dress this time? Would a school uniform suffice?”

Dax’s eyes lit up. “A school uniform! Why didn’t I think of that? Brilliant, Kira-san!”

“Of course I am,” I replied with a smirk.

“But that’s not it, Kira-san,” Dax said, his smile growing a little more sinister, probably because he’s a gremlin. “My boss wants a larger version of it, around four to five feet tall.”

“You want the kid to make you a full-size bronze statue?” Bromir asked, genuinely puzzled. “Is your boss trying to build a shrine and worship that thing?”

“No, no, no,” Dax shook his head. “With softer materials, you know, for customers to use as a… bolster pillow.”

Our conversation paused until I finally realized what he wanted. “Oi, you twisted gremlin. You’re not suggesting what I think you are, are you?”

Dax’s imploring tone made my skin crawl. “The customers will hold you in high esteem, Kira-san! If you can create this bolster pillow doll, they might even give you an honorary title.”

My eyes ignited with pride. “Of course! I’m Akira the Cogmaster, after all!” I announced, striking a heroic pose with my hands on my hips. “The greatest inventor in this tower.” Though I couldn’t help but think it was strange that my player status hadn’t updated my title. I mean, “Competent Inventor” or something would surely fit better given my track record over the past two years. So why hasn’t it changed yet? Bromir’s raucous laughter filled in the background, underscoring the moment.

“So, what materials do we need to make this bolster doll?” Dax asked enthusiastically, pulling out a notebook and quill from his leather bag.

“First, artificial hair. And none from deceased donors,” I warned him, wagging my finger for emphasis.

“Why not?” he asked, unaffectedly curious.

“The owner of the hair will come back and haunt you asking for their hair back,” I replied, trying to keep a straight face.

“Really?” he blinked, a bit too wide-eyed for my comfort.

“Yep, happens a lot back in my world,” I nodded seriously. “Imagine waking up at night and finding yourself spooning a ghost instead of your bolster doll.”

Dax shivered slightly, the thought clearly worrying him. “What about elf female hair? Will that do?”

“Hmm… I haven’t encountered an elf ghost yet,” I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. “If their hair looks like human hair, sure, why not?”

“Great! What’s next?” Dax scribbled furiously in his notebook.

“We need to make a metal skeleton for it,” I said. “A flexible steel should work nicely. It’ll provide structural support and allow the doll to be posed in various positions.”

“Okay, okay, what’s next?” His pen moved faster, nearly catching fire from the speed.

My finger tapped my lips. “Well, we can use latex from the Plum Blossom peach fruit tree that grows around here as a substitute for silicone. It’s perfect for the doll’s skin due to its soft, lifelike texture. Plus, it’s durable and can be shaped to mimic human skin. Of course, we’ll need to treat the latex with chemicals first to prevent allergies in some individuals.”

“Fantastic!” Dax beamed, revealing his sharp teeth.

And then it hit me. My expression changed from delight to shock as I stared at the gremlin. Gritting my teeth, I approached him closer and knuckled his head. “I’m not making you a sex doll, you bastard!”

An hour later, Dax skulked off to the tavern, nursing his disappointment with a good old-fashioned ale. I’d agreed to whip up a few different dress designs for the smaller figurines, but the idea of a full-sized version? Nope, that was a hard pass.

As the sun plunged toward the horizon, I heard the familiar banter of Durak and his brother Gromli approaching the forge.

“Hey, Bromir!” Durak burst in with his usual exuberance. “Come on, let’s go! Our wives left for Hillstone ages ago.”

Bromir smacked his forehead with his hand, clearly trying to recall what day it was. “Ah, the celebration! Just give me fifteen minutes to close up.”

“You can leave now, Ossan,” I said, throwing him a smile. “I’m not joining you guys. I’ll handle things here.”

“Thanks, kid!” Bromir shot back with a grin, turning to Durak and Gromli. “All right, guys! Let’s party!” He pumped a fist in the air, and you’d think he just won a prize.

“Let’s do something epic tonight!” Durak chimed in. “It’s Gromli’s son’s birthday.”

“Sure, why not!” Bromir replied, rubbing his hands together. “My fists are getting itchy, and I’m always up for something crazy.”

I watched them leave, laughter trailing behind them as they headed toward the tavern. Shaking my head in amusement, I couldn’t help but think about their antics. Seriously, those old guys never acted their age. I half-expected them to challenge the younger dwarves to another brawl, predictably, every time they got drunk.

With them gone, I tidied up the forge. Once everything was in order, I sat down to enjoy a quick dinner of instant ramen and an onigiri I’d snagged from the online store. As I polished off my meal, night fell, and the moon cast a shiny glow over the hills, like nature’s nightlight.

With eagerness welling up inside me, I made my way to my secret rendezvous, a hot spring on the outskirts of the village, reserved solely for dwarven women. The night air encased me as I walked, the distant hoot of an owl adding to the quiet ambiance. Each step brought me closer to my favorite spot, where the allure of the night and the promise of relaxation awaited.

A quarter of an hour later, I arrived at my destination and climbed a steady slope overlooking the hot spring. From behind a thick bush, I pulled out a small telescope, one of my prized inventions, and raised it to my eye. “Well, ladies, forgive me for this,” I chuckled softly.

But instead of seeing Thrainna, Durrina, and Brundis, my eyes were treated to a sight that made my brain short-circuit. There, knee-deep in the bubbling hot spring, were three familiar figures. And get this. They were linked arm in arm, swaying together like some kind of drunken conga line, each of them clutching a mug of ale. Their mouths were moving like they were singing the most ridiculous, rowdy chorus. And to top it all off, these old dudes were completely naked. No towels, no modesty, not a thing!

“Arghhh! My eyes!” I cried out, my voice echoing into the night and probably scaring the living daylights out of every nocturnal creature in the forest. Seriously, after that, I’m gonna need a full-on mental detox.