A thick fog had settled over Ironweave’s lower districts, turning the morning into a soup of gray shapes and muffled sounds.

  Perfect ambiance for a shop full of predatory furniture, Thadan thought with a wry smile as he stood at the shop’s window, polishing the same spot he’d been working on for the past ten minutes. The glass was already clean—Brakar had seen to that earlier—but the repetitive motion gave him something to do while watching potential customers drift by like ghosts in the mist. Not a single customer had visited yet, though Thadan couldn’t blame them. Even the most dedicated shoppers thought twice about venturing out in weather like this.

  Still, he had to admit the ambience had transformed Merchant’s End into something almost mystical.

  The new brass bell above the door—Kip’s latest addition to the shop—caught the weak sunlight filtering through the fog. Its presence made the storefront look more legitimate, more like a proper business and less like the suspicious operation it was.

  Thadan had to admit, having a bell that rang when customers entered was better than their previous system of relying on the mimic-chair to alert them by scootching excitedly across the floor.

  The smile faded as he caught the mimic-chair’s subtle movement again. He’d spent enough time around the creature to recognize its “hunting posture”—a small perceptible shift that made its outline somehow sharper, more focused. Like a cat spotting a mouse.

  “No,” he said firmly, pointing at the chair. “Stay.”

  The chair managed to look disappointed despite being, well, a chair. It then settled back into position.

  Part of him felt bad for the little guy. It had spent the last hour practicing subtle position adjustments. The creature seemed determined to perfect its “suddenly appearing” routine, though its idea of stealth involved scooting a few inches at a time when it thought no one was looking.

  “You know, that’s not actually how surprise works,” Thadan said to the chair. “And you’re leaving marks on the floor.”

  The chair quickly lifted its legs, revealing small scuff marks on the wooden boards. It had the decency to look embarrassed with its small shakes and ripples.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Thadan waved dismissively. “Gives the place character. Besides, what’s a furniture shop without a few scratches here and there?”

  The mimic-chair perked up, apparently taking this as permission to continue its stealth practice. It immediately began an exaggerated tip-toe movement that made it look less like a piece of actual furniture and more like a cartoon character.

  “That’s... not better.”

  Before he could offer further critique on the chair’s espionage techniques, the bell chimed. The sound was deeper than he expected, more resonant. Of course Kip would find a bell with perfect acoustics, he thought.

  Two figures emerged from the fog-clouded doorway, their outlines gradually sharpening as they prepared to cross the shop’s threshold.

  A young woman stood—or rather, leaned—in the doorway, one hand gripping the frame with careful precision. Her clothing spoke of nobility, all fine fabrics and subtle embroidery, but it was her bearing that truly caught his attention. Every movement was measured, deliberate, as if each gesture had been calculated for maximum efficiency and minimum strain.

  Behind her came a tall, lean man whose bearing practically screamed “butler.” Everything about him, from his impeccable posture to the way he hovered protectively near the woman’s elbow, spoke of years of service and genuine care.

  Interesting, Thadan thought, already adjusting his sales approach. The wealthy were always welcome customers, but something about the woman’s careful movements suggested this might be more than a simple transaction.

  The woman paused inside the doorway, her eyes adjusting to the interior light. She wore expensive but comfortable-looking clothing, the kind of outfit that prioritized both appearance and ease of movement. Her pale skin was almost translucent in the diffused morning light, and her naturally blonde hair fell past her shoulders in careful waves.

  The butler closed the door behind them, shutting out the fog and somehow making the simple action look like an art form.

  Thadan straightened his vest—a habit he’d picked up from watching Naia interact with customers—and shot her a quick glance. “I got this one,” he murmured with a wink, already stepping forward before she could protest.

  “Welcome to Mimic & Co. How may I assist you today?”

  The woman’s green eyes scanned the relatively empty showroom. “I was under the impression this was a furniture store,” she said, her refined accent confirming Thadan’s assessment of her social status. “Though I appear to see very little furniture.”

  Her companion maintained a neutral expression, but Thadan caught the slight shift in his stance that suggested he was ready to guide her back out at a moment’s notice.

  “Ah, you’ve caught us at an interesting moment.” Thadan gestured expansively, channeling his best ‘exclusive boutique’ manner. “We prefer to work closely with each client, ensuring every piece matches their needs. Mass-produced displays wouldn’t do us justice”

  “A custom approach?” She shifted slightly, and Thadan noticed how her butler’s attention sharpened at that small movement. “How does that work?”

  “We start with a conversation about your space, your preferences, your lifestyle. Each piece tells a story.” The mimic-chair was executing a masterful flanking maneuver. “In fact, I believe I have the perfect chair for you, my lady.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  She turned—carefully, so carefully—following his gesture, and nearly started at the sight of the chair. Her companion’s hand tightened on her arm, steadying her. “I... where did that come from?” She blinked, confused. “I don’t recall seeing that chair a moment ago.”

  “We pride ourselves on anticipating our customers’ needs.” Thadan said invitingly, watching as the chair adjusted its shape. The back curved, the seat cushion reformed, and the arms shifted to provide optimal support. It was showing off, but in this case, that might work in their favor. Clever beast. “Would you care to try it?”

  “I’m not sure...” She hesitated, and Thadan saw how she leaned more heavily on her companion’s support. “I’m afraid I have rather specific needs when it comes to seating. Most furniture is... problematic.”

  “Ah, but this isn’t most furniture.” Thadan watched as the chair made another minute adjustment, its surface reshaping itself to better accommodate what it had observed of her posture. “In fact, I’m so confident in its suitability that I’m willing to make you an offer.”

  The butler’s eyebrow raised—the first real expression Thadan had seen from him.

  “An offer?” The woman’s tone suggested she was used to being offered things, not all of them welcome.

  “Indeed.” Thadan grinned, warming to his theme. “If this chair isn’t perfectly comfortable—if it doesn’t provide the support you need—you can have the entire shop.”

  “The entire shop?” Now both of the butler’s eyebrows were raised.

  “Indeed.” Thadan grinned, watching the mimic make one final adjustment. “But if it is perfect...”

  “I purchase the chair?” A small smile played at the corners of her mouth. “That seems hardly fair odds.”

  “Sir,” her companion spoke for the first time, “perhaps we should—”

  “Life rarely deals in fair odds, my lady.” Thadan bowed. “But sometimes it offers pleasant surprises.”

  She giggled—a sound that surprised her as much as anyone else. “Very well. I accept your challenge.”

  The butler moved forward to assist her, but she waved him back. “No, Edwin. Let’s see if our bold merchant’s confidence is warranted.”

  Edwin. Thadan filed the name away and bowed with a flourish, gesturing toward the chair. “Then please, my lady, have a seat.”

  “I should warn you,” she said, pausing before sitting, “I was born with a rather uncooperative body. Furniture and I have a rather adversarial relationship.”

  “Then perhaps it’s time for a more accommodating partnership.”

  She lowered herself slowly. The mimic made more subtle changes, the angle of the back, the curve of the seat, the height of the armrests. By the time Caroline began to lower herself into it, the chair had become a perfect match for her form.

  The moment she settled into the seat, her expression changed. The tension she’d been carrying in her shoulders melted away. Her eyes widened, then drifted closed as she leaned back.

  “Oh,” she breathed. “Oh.”

  The mimic remained still, but Thadan could sense its attention—like a master craftsman waiting for the perfect moment to make that final crucial adjustment.

  And when she completely let go, the change was immediate and dramatic. The rigid set of her shoulders softened, her spine finding perfect support as the chair adjusted itself with microscopic precision. Her eyes widened, then closed in obvious relief.

  A small, involuntary moan escaped her lips, followed by a gasp that made Edwin’s ears redden. “Mmm... yes, right there.”

  “My lady?” Edwin stepped forward.

  “I take it the chair meets with your approval?” Thadan asked,

  “It’s... perfect.” She opened her eyes, wonder replacing her usual careful composure. “How is this possible? It’s as if it knows where I need support.”

  “This is remarkable. How did you...” She shifted again, and the chair adjusted with her. “I’ve never experienced anything like it. This isn’t ordinary furniture, is it?””

  “Nothing about Mimic & Co. is ordinary, my lady. Now, about that wager...”

  “Seems you’ve won, sir. Though I feel I’m the real winner here. I’ve never...” She paused, emotion briefly overtaking her refined manner. “I’ve never sat anywhere so comfortable.”

  “Then allow me to be the first to congratulate you, Lady...?” Thadan let the question hang.

  “Caroline,” she supplied, still marveling at the chair’s comfort. “And this is Edwin, without whom I’d have fallen down three times just getting here.”

  Edwin inclined his head. “My lady is too kind.”

  “A pleasure to meet you both properly.” Thadan bowed again, this time with genuine respect rather than showmanship. “I’m Thadan Ginedras, co-proprietor of Mimic & Co., purveyors of the finest adaptive furniture in Ironweave.”

  “Adaptive.” The woman laughed—a real laugh this time, not the polite titter of nobility. “Yes, that’s what it feels like. As if it’s adapting to me specifically.” She ran her hand along the armrest, and Thadan could have sworn the mimic preened under her touch. “I don’t suppose you’d consider selling the shop instead of the chair? I have a feeling this is the beginning of something fascinating.”

  “Sorry, not for sale. But the chair could be yours. 1 gold”

  The butler’s face contorted for a split-second.

  “Done.” She didn’t hesitate. “Though I hope you realize this means I’ll be back for more.”

  “We look forward to it, Miss Caroline. And when would you like us to deliver it?” Thadan asked.

  Caroline finally stood, moving with more ease than she had when entering. “Today, if possible. I find myself reluctant to part with it.”

  “We can arrange that.” He moved back behind the desk, pulling out the special contracts Naia had prepared for their more... unique pieces. “Though I should mention a few special care instructions.”

  “Oh?”

  “Nothing too complicated. You only need to feed the chair a potion once a month. It’s a mimic, after all.”

  The butler blinked, taken aback. “I’m sorry—it’s what?”

  Caroline paused, glancing at the chair beneath her. Her brows lifted, lips parting in mild shock. Her surprise softened into reluctant admiration. “Well... I can’t argue with the results.”

  She picked up the pen and signed the contract, her handwriting as elegant as her bearing. “There.”

  As Edwin helped Caroline to her feet (though she seemed to need less assistance than before), Thadan couldn’t shake the feeling that this sale marked a turning point for their fledgling business. They’d just sold a mimic to nobility—and not just any noble, but one who appeared to understand there was more to their furniture than met the eye.

  The bell chimed again as they departed, Caroline already making plans for where to place her new acquisition. The last thing Thadan heard before the door closed was her asking Edwin if he thought the library would be suitable, or if perhaps her private study would be better.

  Through the window, he watched their figures fade into the fog. Thadan turned back to his desk, already planning how to explain this development to Brakar. His partner would probably have concerns about selling to nobility—bigger profiles meant bigger risks.

  But he couldn’t help but smile. Their little shop was growing, evolving in ways he hadn’t anticipated. And somehow, that made it even better.