Meanwhile, Luma sat in the manager's office. She was a picture of rigid discipline, her back straight, her hands clasped on the smooth wooden desk. Across from her, the manager, a skeleton in a sharp, professional suit, regarded her with a polite but unreadable expression. The room was tidy, organized, and utterly devoid of the usual chaos Luma expected from a busy workshop. A small, neatly arranged set of mana stones sat on the corner of the desk, glowing with a soft, steady light, a stark contrast to the rough-hewn workshops of her own kingdom.
"I'd like to meet the owner of this establishment," she said, her voice clipped and formal.
The manager smiled, a dry, pleasant sound that seemed to be a practiced gesture. "The owner has a very full schedule, I'm afraid. His time is... precious. But you can voice your concerns with me. I am fully authorized to address any administrative matters."
