Chapter 61: Operation Sunflower
Inside the stone walls of his house in Iron Fortress, the children had long since drifted into the world of dreams, their rhythmic breathing the only sound in the quiet rooms.
Only Hans remained wide awake.
He knew he was being used by Greed. If he successfully completed his task, the Undead Empire would harvest a flourishing Merchant Guild and use him as a propaganda tool to jumpstart the economy. If he failed, he would be marched up the gallows for a public execution, and the Empire would simply seize his half-finished assets while bolstering its own terrifying reputation.
Either way, the Empire won.
But Hans didn't care. He needed to be used. In a world of monsters, being useful was the only currency that bought a tomorrow.
"If I ran away every time I was scared, it would be a damn tragedy," he whispered, sitting at the table. The oil lamp cast dancing shadows across his face, highlighting a sharp, hungry look in his eyes.
"Since they want results and don't care about the process... it's time to change the plan."
Hans stood up, a twisted, determined smile spreading across his lips. He walked into the room where the children slept. He gently shook the eldest boy.
"Miguel, wake up."
Miguel sat up, rubbing his eyes blearily. "Hans-nii...?"
Hans moved to the bed of the smallest girl. "Lily, wake up. I have a fun game for us to play."
Soon, all six children were gathered in the living room, blinking away sleep as they looked at the strangely high-strung Hans.
"Children," Hans whispered, his voice carrying a mysterious, magnetic pull. "Tomorrow, we're going on a treasure hunt."
He pulled a stack of papers from his coat—blank contracts he had spent the night copying from Grog's original agreement.
"See these? These are treasure maps. But the maps are missing the most important magic spell." Hans pointed to the blank signature line at the bottom. "The spell is a name. A grown-up's name."
"Your mission is to get the Misters and Misses in the city to write their names right here."
Miguel, being the oldest, frowned. "Why do we need their names?"
"Because for every name we get, a new treasure will appear in the Sunflower House vault. More bread, better stew, and those new clothes and toys you've been dreaming about."
The children's eyes widened. One boy raised his hand. "But... why would they give us their names?"
"That," Hans grinned like a fox who had just spotted an unguarded hen house, "is the secret of the game."
He distributed the "maps" to each child.
"Remember, we're a team. Our goal is to have these papers filled with names before the sun sets tomorrow. If we win, we're having a feast—the best roasted meat in the city!"
"YEAH! ROASTED MEAT!" the children cheered, their sleepiness replaced by pure, sugar-high levels of excitement.
Watching them, Hans leaned back in his chair. The expansion of the Sunflower Merchant Guild was officially in motion.
The Next Day.
The streets of Iron Fortress were a chaotic, vibrant tapestry. Humans and undead moved together in a bizarre dance of co-existence.
At a woodcarving stall, a middle-aged man was putting the finishing touches on a remarkably lifelike owl. A small figure appeared at his counter.
"Mister?"
The carver looked down to see a small girl clutching a tattered stuffed bear, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. It was Lily.
The man's expression softened instantly. "Hello, little one. What can I do for you?"
Lily's voice was as sweet as syrup. "Mister, your wooden owls are so pretty."
The man beamed at the compliment. "You like them? Here, I'll give you one for free."
Lily shook her head solemnly. "Hans said I shouldn't take things for free. You worked very hard to make these."
The man felt a pang of warmth. What a well-raised child.
Lily continued, "I don't know how to read or write yet. Mister, could you teach me?"
"Of course I can!" the man agreed readily. "What words do you want to learn?"
Lily revealed a massive, angelic smile. "I want to learn how to write the Mister's name!"
She pulled a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket—Hans's "treasure map."
"Just write it right here, Mister."
The man looked at the scrap of paper. It was stained and looked like trash, which only made him feel more pity. This poor child... they're so destitute they have to use scrap paper to practice writing.
Without a single suspicious thought, he took the charcoal pencil Lily offered and scrawled his name at the bottom of the page.
"There you go, little one. Did you memorize the strokes?"
"I did! Thank you, Mister!"
Lily carefully folded the paper, tucked it away, and skipped off with her bear. The man watched her go, feeling like he'd done his good deed for the decade.
Around the corner, Hans watched the scene with a grin that nearly reached his ears.
Plan confirmed. Results: Guaranteed.
Lily scurried back to Hans like a busy bee returning to the hive, presenting her prize. "Hans! Look! Lily finished her work!"
Hans took the paper that had just decided the woodcarver's economic future and stowed it away. He knelt and patted Lily's head, his face still wearing that unsettling, triumphant grin.
"Good girl, Lily. You're the best."
A passing resident stopped in his tracks. He saw a grown man with a predatory expression looming over a tiny, innocent girl, muttering about how she was "the best."
The resident immediately cupped his hands and shouted toward a nearby patrol:
"PUNISHMENT LEGION! THERE'S A DEVIANT OVER HERE!"
Hans's smile vanished. Two Skeleton Soldiers carrying massive greatswords stomped over, their empty sockets locking onto Hans.
"Human. State your activity," one skeleton intoned with mechanical coldness.
"Wait! It's a misunderstanding!" Hans shouted, throwing his hands up. "She's my family!"
The skeletons ignored him, preparing to haul him off to Skele-Pride for summary judgment.
"STOP! I HAVE DOCUMENTATION!" Hans yelled, frantically pulling out his guild license and his official badge. "Look! The Sunflower Merchant Guild! I'm the Chairman, Hans! This girl is my ward and a vital member of the guild!"
The skeletons paused. One took the agreement, its Soul Fire flickering as it accessed the city's internal Od-network. After a moment, it handed the paper back.
"Information verified. Resident: Hans. Guardian of Sunflower House." The skeleton lowered its sword but kept its hollow gaze fixed on him. "Your behavior is causing public unrest. Watch your conduct."
With that, the patrol turned and resumed their march. Hans wiped a bead of cold sweat from his forehead and let out a long, shuddering breath.
At the other end of the city, Miguel stood at the entrance of a blacksmith's shop. He watched a burly man hammering red-hot iron for a long time before stepping inside during a break.
Miguel spoke with the specific, stubborn seriousness of a fourteen-year-old. "Master."
The blacksmith glanced at him. "What is it, kid? I don't sell candy."
"Your technique is the most incredible thing I've ever seen," Miguel said, his gaze unwavering. "Every strike has its own rhythm, its own power. I think only someone who truly loves the forge can strike like that."
The blacksmith blinked. He hadn't expected such insight from a child. A glimmer of pride touched his rough features. "Got a good eye, don't you?"
"Master, my dream is to become a blacksmith too," Miguel continued, his eyes full of "longing." "Could you sign your name for me? I want to keep it as a goal to inspire me every single day!"
Miguel produced the paper. The blacksmith hesitated for a second, then took the charcoal. Being worshiped by an ambitious youth felt... pretty good. He scrawled his name in jagged letters.
"Listen, kid. A goal is fine, but you need muscle to back it up!"
"Yes! Thank you, Master!" Miguel took the paper, bowed deeply, and departed. The blacksmith watched him go, feeling quite pleased with himself as he took a swig of ale.
Similar scenes played out across the city all day. A herbalist signed for a boy who claimed to be collecting the names of "The Masters of Flora." A Ghoul selling roasted meat was so moved by a little girl who wanted to "remember the name of the best chef" that he proudly carved his unit number into the paper.
By evening, the seven of them were back at the Sunflower House. On the table lay twenty-seven papers, all bearing different names and handwriting.
Woodcarvers. Blacksmiths. Herbalists. Vendors.
The destinies of these shops had been rewritten by a group of children using the purest form of deception.
Lily tugged on Hans's sleeve, her eyes sparkling. "Hans! Can we eat the roasted meat now?"
Hans looked at the "spoils of war" covering the table and offered a genuine, warm smile.
"We're going right now! Miguel, get the coin pouch. We're buying from the most expensive stall in the district!"
Miguel whispered, "But... that place is really pricey."
Hans waved a contract in the air. "It doesn't matter, Miguel. We're going to be very, very rich soon."
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