The sun was generous that day.
It spilled gold over the mountains and painted the fog in soft amber light.
At the edge of a narrow cliff road stood a small shop.
Its signboard hung slightly crooked.
The name carved into the wood was… unusual.
Not evil.
Not heroic.
Just strange enough to make people hesitate.
A brass bell above the door rang.
Clink.
An elderly woman stepped inside, leaning slightly on her cane.
"Hello? Is anyone here?"
The workshop smelled of oil and heated metal. Gears ticked softly somewhere deeper within the building. A faint humming noise pulsed through the walls.
A man rose from behind the counter.
He looked ordinary.
Black hair. Calm eyes. Rolled-up sleeves stained with grease.
"Good afternoon," he said politely. "It seems I have a customer. How may I help you?"
The elderly woman stepped closer, clutching her handbag.
"Erm… my daughter's birthday is coming soon. She wants one of those remote-control cars they sell in the Upper Lands." She hesitated. "But they're far too expensive. Someone recommended your shop."
A faint smile touched the man's lips.
"Ah. Upper Land imports. Those usually cost around five hundred gold coins."
The woman nodded with a sigh.
"Yes… far beyond what I can afford."
He tapped the counter lightly.
"I can make one for five hundred silver coins."
Silence.
The ticking of gears grew louder.
"F-Five hundred silver?" Her eyes widened. "That's… that's impossible. How would you even get the materials? Is this some kind of scam?"
"I offer full refunds," he replied calmly. "But first, tell me… does your daughter prefer locomotives, or automobiles?"
The question caught her off guard.
"Automobiles," she answered after a moment. "She says trains are too slow."
"I see," he nodded. "Then we'll make something fast."
They spoke for several more minutes.
Measurements. Color preferences. Delivery date.
A simple contract was signed.
When she finally left, the bell rang once more.
Clink.
The shop fell quiet again.
The man stepped outside and inhaled the mountain air.
The lower districts were visible in the distance smoke rising from steam towers, pipes stretching like iron veins across the land.
Above them, far higher in the sky, faint silhouettes of floating platforms shimmered.
Upper class.
Lower class.
Two worlds sharing one horizon.
The man looked at his grease-stained hands.
Five hundred silver.
He could make it cheaper.
Much cheaper.
But there was no need.
A faint crackle of dark energy flickered around his fingers for a fraction of a second
Then vanished.
He frowned slightly.
"Still not working, huh…"
The wind carried his voice away.
Once, he had designed weapons that shattered fortresses.
Now, he built toys.
He didn't seem disappointed.
If anything, he looked… relieved.
Inside the shop, something clicked.
Then sparked.
Then
A small explosion echoed from within.
Smoke drifted out the doorway.
He stared at it for a moment.
"…Right. I forgot to stabilize the core."
He walked back inside without urgency.
And so began the quiet life of a demon who was no longer needed in Hell.