The demon village never truly slept.
Even at night, flickering lanterns painted the streets in a warm, golden glow, and distant laughter echoed from open taverns. It was a place of thieves and warriors, of tricksters and beasts—a world where power dictated survival.
Yet, within this chaos, in a cozy home tucked behind the bustling marketplace, a child's life was just beginning.
---
A Succubus and a Teasing Mother
Lawrence, still small with his fluffy white fur and black spots, wandered the streets alone for the first time.
His father had told him to observe the market, to "see it through the eyes of a merchant." But so far, all he saw was… stuff.
Then, he bumped into her.
A girl—taller than him, with soft lavender skin and tiny succubus horns. Her eyes glowed with playful mischief, and her bat-like wings fluttered as she tilted her head.
"Ooooh? What do we have here?" she purred, bending slightly to get a better look. "A little bun-bun, lost all on his own?"
Lawrence blinked, tilting his head. "I'm not lost."
The succubus giggled. "Ohhh, but you look so cute and fluffy! Maybe I should keep you." She leaned closer, her tail swishing. "Want me to show you what a grown-up demon can do, little rabbit?"
Before Lawrence could respond—
A warm voice chimed in behind them.
"Oh my, trying to steal my son already?"
The succubus froze.
Lawrence turned to see his mother, standing with a teasing smirk. Her crimson eyes gleamed with amusement as she crossed her arms.
The succubus straightened up immediately, looking sheepish. "W-Well, I was just—"
Lawrence's mother laughed, ruffling his fur. "Careful, young lady. My boy may be cute, but he's also a merchant's son. If you're not careful, you'll be the one getting tricked."
The succubus blinked. "A merchant?"
Lawrence tilted his head. "Is that important?"
His mother chuckled. "Oh, you'll understand soon enough."
And from that day, the succubus became his first friend.
---
A Merchant's Lesson
That evening, Lawrence sat cross-legged on the floor of their home, watching as his father placed a single gold coin between them.
"Tell me, boy," his father said, voice calm but firm. "What do you see?"
Lawrence frowned. "A coin."
His father smirked. "Good. And what does the succubus girl see?"
Lawrence thought. "Probably… a way to buy things?"
His father nodded. "And a warrior?"
"He sees a tool," Lawrence answered. "To buy weapons or armor."
"An old beggar?"
"A meal," Lawrence said quickly.
His father grinned. "A merchant?"
Silence.
Lawrence stared at the coin. Then—his eyes flickered with understanding.
"A merchant doesn't see a coin."
His father raised an eyebrow. "Then what does he see?"
Lawrence hesitated. "He sees… an opportunity."
Silence.
Then—his father laughed. A deep, proud sound.
"Yes," he said, ruffling Lawrence's ears. "Now you're thinking like a trader."
---
Soft-Soaping and The Art of Selling
His father picked up the coin, spinning it between his fingers.
"A merchant doesn't just sell," he said. "He guides the buyer. He makes them want something they never thought they needed."
Lawrence's ears perked up.
"Watch closely, boy. This is called soft-soaping."
He suddenly straightened, putting on a dazzling smile. His voice **changed—**warmer, smoother, welcoming.
"Ah, my friend!" he said, gesturing to an imaginary customer. "You have such fine taste. Surely someone as wise as you deserves only the best. Why, this fine silk isn't just fabric—it's a statement. A noble like you should never settle for less!"
He winked at Lawrence. "See? A little flattery, a little charm—and suddenly, they're reaching for their coin purse."
Lawrence's eyes widened. "You're… making them feel special?"
His father grinned. "Exactly. A merchant's greatest weapon isn't their goods—it's their words."
---
The Promise of a Future Merchant
That night, as Lawrence lay in bed, he stared at the ceiling, thinking.
The market. The coin. The way his father saw the world differently.
He turned, looking out the window at the dark sky. Somewhere, beyond the stars, the gods who had erased his past life still watched.
But they did not know.
They did not realize that the little demon they had cast down…
Was already learning how to rebuild everything they had taken.
And as he drifted to sleep, a small smile tugged at his lips.
Because now, he understood.
The world did not belong to the strong.
It belonged to those who could shape it.
And merchants shape everything.
---
End of Chapter 1