Break the Chain

You know that awkward feeling when you’re trying to get someone’s attention, but you don’t know their name, so all you’ve got are rude-sounding “Excuse me!”s and desperate “Hey!”s?

Now imagine that someone is a lamia girl. One who definitely has some kind of history with you.

Take that feeling and multiply it by ten.

I wasn’t even sure she could hear me, so I picked the next best strategy: run up and tap her shoulder.

Only problem was that this body was still knackered from the Chills… or I was just this unfit.

Either way, I tripped from sheer clumsiness.

The world spun before something warm caught me mid-fall.

Her tail.

“Ah—!” she gasped.

I crashed into it with a choked breath, and I felt soft muscle coiling around my waist. My hands sank into the smooth tension of it.

Before I could even blink, she was in front of me… her face inches from mine.

“Hi…?” I croaked.

Her hands moved before I could react.

My belly. My hair. I was so ticklish I hunched over to shield myself.

Then she pinched my cheek. She was more powerful than the muscle tone would lead you to believe!

“OW!!”

She flinched. Her eyes went wide.

She proceeded to hug me with the power to crush watermelons. At this rate, my back was going to snap in two!

“Hurtshurtshurts!!” 

“Oh!” She immediately let go. I staggered back, hands on my hips, trying to shake off the ache.

“Sorry… it’s just…” She let out a shaky breath. Her golden eyes pinned me in place. “I couldn’t believe who I saw. You were like an imposter! You looked… so different with your imperfect hair. You always styled it whenever you got the chance. You embodied the opposite of what I remembered.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “And what exactly was I supposed to be?”

“Standing on the table? Proclaiming your triumphant return? Declaring how you pried your soul back from Death’s cold hands?” She tried to smirk, but it wobbled. “The kind of stupid thing you’d do…”

“That’d be embarrassing.”

“You are embarrassing.”

“Hey!”

“Hehehe~”

"Look at me... the great Piper, rendered to tears just because of one boy. Could write a story about that."

Ah, finally a name to the face.

She flipped her hair back so it no longer veiled her face, then gently reached for both my hands. I flinched—startled—but didn’t pull away.

“You’re back,” she said, tears finally rolling. “And even after all this time… you’re still you.”

“Me being a klutz?”

She smiled. “Yeah.”

Heat crept up my cheeks. Great; nervous over a kid’s opinion. I guess since I had a teenager’s body, I had a teenager’s hormones.

“Still though…” Piper continued. “It’s hard to believe the kidnapping changed you so much that you’ve forgotten what should be second nature to your lot. That—” Piper tapped her own lips. “—little sneer.”

“I was wondering why people hated the fact I existed…”

I also needed to keep in mind to keep roleplaying like the real Cotter wasn’t dead.

If she liked him enough to cry at his return… she’d probably straight-up kill me if she found out the truth.

Right as she was opening her mouth, a loud bell was rang.

“Damn it!” she whined. “Was hoping to get some down time with my best friend...”

Yep. Definitely would kill fake Cotter.

“What’s happening now?” I asked.

“It’s already midday, pretty-boy,” she huffed, placing her hands on her hips with theatrical flair. “Time to earn our keep. We were already behind schedule before you got yourself kidnapped, and we both know how much the crown is itching for an excuse to withhold more coin from the orphanage…”

She paused, then leaned in until her nose was practically touching mine.

“Wait a sec…” Her eyes narrowed. “How do you not know what that bell means? Hmmmm?”

I winced. Sloppy, Endo…

“You always wanted to be the one yelling ‘Destroy it!’ Remember?” she said. “Don’t tell me spending a bit of time outside made you forget.”

“N–No! D-Definitely not,” I stammered, waving my hands way too hard.

As we left for wherever we were going, I pondered quietly to myself.

In a place like East Gate, orphanages probably had to scrape by however they could—selling handmade goods, offering services… whatever kept the lights on.

Wait. Wait wait wait.

Was I about to help with that?!

In other words… fantasy product design?!

I almost screamed. My MBA. My actual MBA. Finally being put to use in another world!

What do people even stress about in a fantasy economy?

What could I make?

My hands curled into fists. “L-let’s go now then! Time is money!”

“Don’t go pretending to be kind and noble now. I know your true nature. You hate making Moonboxes more than you ever did cutting forest wood.”

I sputtered. “Wha—I—I am kind!”

“Mhm.”

She turned, sashaying ahead with a smirk.

We continued heading toward the sound of the bell ringing, I hadn’t noticed just how dilapidated the place really was. Some of the wood was rotting, for crying out loud.

Soon we merged into a slow-moving line of kids headed out to what looked like a courtyard. 

It was then it was put into perspective how lucky I was.

Some kids were missing limbs. Others bore deep scars; reminders of a war I could only guess at. And something tells me the Crystal Elves had a hand in that.

Three long tables filled the courtyard we purveyed. 

It looked like the world’s most serious arts and crafts operation.

I squinted at what some kids were already making. Plaques? Tiny animal gods? And... some bizarre folding contraption with a hinge.

"Grr..."

I sighed. Great. What now?

I looked left and right, and somehow didn't have the presence of mind to think to look downwards.

It was a dog. Looked fairly unassuming, the typical brown-colored street dog. I definitely hadn't encountered it before...

What did I do?

Martha appeared beside me, holding out a worn sheet filled with faded diagrams. “He's still giving you a hard time? I thought after being kidnapped, he'd start to miss you. Too bad a dog's hatred for Crystal Elves outweighs any form of personal connection.”

Ah. Comforting.

I crouched anyway, extending a hand. “Hey, buddy. Give me a chance.”

He kept growling.

I kept at it anyway. Gentle shooing noises, letting him catch my scent.

Little by little, his growls softened. He sniffed and tilted his head.

Eventually, he allowed my hand to brush over his ragged fur. Weirdly, I haven't seen the dog once wag his tail. Paralysis, maybe?

“There we go,” I muttered, scratching behind his ear.

Martha gasped. "Gods, I didn't know getting kidnapped suddenly made you a dog whisperer..."

“Mother… you went and checked on the kids, right?” I asked, glancing up. 

“I—”

Right on cue, another nun hurried over, clutching a folded slip of paper.

Martha sighed dramatically. “And here I was, hoping for at least thirty seconds of peace.”

“Mother, this is for your eyes only,” the nun said.

She skimmed it in silence, then slipped it into her sleeve with a practiced motion.

Then, as if flipping a switch, she clapped her hands together.

“Alright! No time to laze around. Back to it!”

In my limited—yet strangely vast—experience reading people, you started to notice certain tells.

Hers was obvious: going from somber to cheerful in a snap.

So, no. Definitely not okay. I shook my head as the Mother walked away.

But for now, I looked at the product I was about to assemble.

...Wait, really?

Not to judge, but it was absurd.

It seemed to mistake complexity for quality. One wrong fold from the assembler and the whole thing could warp, making them start all over and make them waste precious materials. 

I looked over toward the end of the production line. We had dozens of finished Moonboxes ready for shipment.

The skill it took to make such products was admirable, but this couldn’t have been sustainable.

Then it hit me. The orphanage thought they were making something people would want over other Moonboxes. It wanted to compete in East Gate's Moonbox market!

They had to know no one was buying these for function or quality, right? If someone wanted real quality, they’d go to a carpenter.

I couldn’t help asking the lamia right next to me, “People pay for this?”

“When they feel like it,” Piper said, guiding me to our seats. “We put our hearts into the carving and hope they notice. Demand’s there. Just… not for ours. They buy from everywhere else. But we’ve got to put food on the table somehow.”

So the market is oversaturated then. Mimicking the real thing—just worse—wasn’t going to cut it. You had to stand out.

But I knew about that mindset. ‘Play it safe.’ ‘Stick to what’s proven.’

It’s how a lot of early businesses and companies on Earth failed.

Still… maybe there was a way to flip it. A smarter angle… for example: a charity one.

I started to ask, “How do you advertise that the orphanage offers—”

“You sure talk a lot for someone not doing any carving.” A salamander-kin boy across the table snorted loud enough to make sure I heard his displeasure.

Yeah… I had that coming.

I raised my hands in surrender and went to sit down.

Whack!!

Something fast and hard smacked me right in the butt. I snapped upright.

Of course. Piper’s tail.

“Bunker down and let the ‘lesser races’ show you how it’s done,” she smirked. “You always sucked at this, anyway…”

My hands were still massaging the affected area as I grinned. “We’ll see.”

Her grin twitched. “Okay, Mr. Know-it-all…”

So I got to work. And surprisingly… I was pretty good at it.

Fold. Crease. Press.

Turns out Japanese origami drills and a life of following instructions had their perks.

When my first Moonbox clicked into shape, Piper’s smirk faltered.

Her tail flicked. “Beginner’s luck.”

\\

After four more or so Moonboxes—two hours in—I started slowing down. Piper, ever the competitor, only made sure to point that out every chance she got.

But my mind had already started to drift.

Back to that promise I made; to myself, to my old life. All those times I watched management barrel into bad decisions and couldn’t say a word.

I swore I’d never just toe the line again if I saw a better way.

If I keep silent, they’ll just keep wasting valuable resources.

And now, weirdly enough, folding wood and paper like I was back in daycare, fidgety fingers and all… I made my decision.

~FORBIDDEN POWER ACTIVATED~

~Initiative Override: Break the Chain of Command!~