Good morning. I hope you don't mind me eating while monologuing to you.

Damn, they might look wrong and have a stupid name, but they taste just right. Of course, I am talking about papush. They taste like cherries and have the same form. But there the similarities end. Papush are bigger than cherries. Not to mention their color is this intense pastel pink instead of red. Heck, if Myra is to be trusted, the same red that is missing is displayed on the papush blossoms. As if someone or something switched the colors of fruit and petals. Well, not completely. A dark pink, Myra had said.

What has me confused is the flavor text of the papush. It says the papush was researched and cultivated. Not by a farmer, gardener, or biologist. Nope, it was a void-trader. By crossing an unknown fruit with a local variant. Was that a cherry? Might be. Myra said she had heard the name cherries before. The description of apples was showing errors. All the names related to Earth blanked out. Not to mention, that all the apples I can summon from the void, are missing seeds. But papush does have seeds. How? I think the answer lies within the description of the papush. The void-trader crossed a local fruit with an unknown. What if I do the same? Maybe cross apples with papush. Would that localize the apple? Give them a seed? I've got to try it, right?

Well, after breakfast. One more papush can't hurt.

....

....

"Next!"

Damn, the next adventurer looks rough. Stepping onto the ramp of my Little Mule with torn armor and a lot of blood splattered all over. His hands dyed red with dried blood.

"I take it you need healing potions?"

The young man looks at me with tired eyes. It takes a moment for him to nod. "Yes. Yes, I do. But first."

He places a crystal on my counter. It was a hexagon in shape. As long as my forearm had two bronze rings clamped onto it near the tapering-off ends. Within its deep red translucent body, a light shone forth. Flickering like a campfire on a stormy night. I've seen one of those before. It's a soul-crystal. Nardare had once tried to give me one for safe-keeping. Not knowing what it was, I had made an ass of myself.

"I'll give you one hundred soul-flakes if you safe-guard it until the soul-guide arrives."

Soul-flakes. A magical currency that eluded me so far. One hundred wasn't much. Compared to what I would need to remodel my body at a soul-guide. The mages that utilized soul-flakes. They could make me male again. Provided I could pay the hefty amount of two hundred thousand soul-flakes. One hundred of them were all but a drop in the bucket towards that goal, but it appeared to be the standard courtesy tip paid to a void-trader for keeping a soul-crystal safe. At least until a soul-guide arrives and then revives a person from the soul-crystal.

"I can do that," I assure the young man. "The soul-guide should only be a few days out."

"Well, maybe that will do him good," the adventurer replied. "Fool tried to take out an automata in one strike. Missed. Got skewered good in return."

Damn. Fool indeed. He probably tried to fulfill my bounty for mostly undamaged automata bodies. As far as I know, only one person is experienced enough to accomplish that task of one-hit downing automata. And that's Nardare. The friend of this adventurer probably tried to emulate Nardare and screwed up. Literally. Well, it will be a learning experience. Once he is revived by the soul-guide.

"I'll take care of him," I tell the adventurer after he offered me the one hundred soul-flakes. "Now, health potions?"

"Yes, please."

....

....

Finally! Lunch break. Damn, my back is killing me. Actually, my whole body is. Sitting around all day isn't the best for body or posture. Maybe I should get a standing counter. Well, that would suck in the long term too.

Well, time to eat. But first, let's check what my experimental research yielded. And I got a-

What the frack is a Blupple?

> Blupple (Myralis) <
> Through reckless research by the void-trader Lillyn, this monstrosity of fruit was created by crossing an unknown species with a local fruit tree. It has the potential to yield high volumes of juice and its skin might be used for dyeing. <
> 32 void-favors <

Reckless research? That's uncalled for. I mean isn't research exactly what void-traders are supposed to do? Not much to go on except I wonder why it says monstrosity. And the little fact that there is "Myralis" in the name. Is it a coincidence that one of my close friends is called Myra? Could she have influenced the research? I doubt it. Myra wasn't anywhere close when I researched the "Blupple". Then again, it was she who summoned the apples to BEsona in the first place.

Well, time to summon a Blupple and see why the description says it is a monstrosity. Strange, the materialization is blue and there is a lot of it. Wait, how big is that gonna get?

Ufff!

That's heavy. This thing is the size of a watermelon. And blue. Like a shiny royal blue. Just let me put it down on the counter.

What the heck? It has the shape of an apple, alright. But why is it so big and blue? So much for my theory that localizing a fruit only switches colors. Well, let's check if this giant apple has at least seeds. Time to get a knife. Or a saw. Be right back.

Alright. Time to check the inside. At least the pulp is still normally colored. I feared the worst. Damn, there is a lot. If an apple a day keeps the doctor away then this blupple must keep the doctor away for a week. The skin is unusually thick too and has its own juice. Which is blue, of course. Damn, it stains too. I hope I get it washed off. One more cut and- Yes, blupples have seeds. Three the size of an avocado seed nestled closely together.

This means I have successfully localized an Earthern fruit. My name is engraved in history forever in the description of the blupple. The most stupid name in existence. Worse than papush. It sounds like someone took the words blue and apple and smushed them together.

Oh, god.

Don't tell me that's exactly it.

Who or whatever writes these descriptions got lazy, right?

I mean how stupid does one have to be-

This is so stupid.

Breath in, Lillyn.

Breath out.

Slow and steady.

Sorry, guys.

I think I need a moment.

Talk to you later. After I calmed down.

....

....

Damn, it is late.

I should go to bed.

Even Myra excused herself.

Well, she left when I got a call from Essie. It was time to catch up with her again, you know.

It is well into the night and I should be sleeping, but those stupid automata are vexing me. I just can't make progress on them. It appears that everything is there save for one component. The core. Judging by the empty slot in the chest it should be round and the size of a salt shaker. But I haven't even a damaged version of the core. So, how do I research one? There must be a way to do it.

Even without core, the automata are functional to some extent. If I summon one, I can see that they have their own soul-inventory. There is even a summonable status display. They don't have the same stats as a human has. Instead, they have closely related ones. There is no strength, but muscle efficiency. Instead of a constitution stat, automata have chassis-optimization. I even can see that they have durability points instead of health points and have limited self-repair ability.

Heck, there was an option in the head to change the designation from something with random numbers and letters to a name. If you must know, I called this one "Becky". What? Her looks remind me of a Becky I knew in high school.

But starring Becky in the flickering of the nearby soul-crystal for the last two bells revealed nothing of her secrets. I am stumped. My options on how to progress in their research have all been exhausted.

I really should go to bed.

But pushing off my stool, my eyes fall on the soul-crystal. No, that wouldn't work, right? Is that ethical?

With trembling hands, I pick up the soul-crystal. I've got to try. Or else the very possibility will keep me up for the rest of the night.

Well, Becky. This is it. Will sleeping beauty awake? Will she have the skills and memory of the unfortunate adventurer whose soul-crystal I am holding?

Alright, now I feel stupid. The crystal doesn't fit the slot. Not even close. Already the hexagonal shape of the crystal is too big to slide in. Not to mention that the crystal has two bronze rings clamped onto it. Or that the soul-crystal is as long as my forearm and the slot not even the width of my hand.

I guess I am too tired to think properly. Time to head to bed. Talk to you tomorrow.

....

....

I don't wanna get up!

Who is buzzing at my Little Mules door at such an early hour?

Shit, I overslept. It's two bells past my usual time to get up. Outside there are probably customers that grow impatient. Frustrated enough to ring my doorbell.

Alright. Alright. Stop buzzing. I am coming.

Not even time to eat something. I bet my stomach will remind me later. Angrily. At least getting dressed in Besona is easy. Just materialize clothes on you and done.

Just a few seconds later, I am stumbling down the stairs. Time to open the door and give those hooligans my piece of mind for disturbing my beauty sleep.

"Iren?"

"Morning, Lillyn," my Mentor offers while mustering me. "Rough night?"

Of course, she looks like freshly out of a wellness retreat. Polished up and clad in a dress I can only describe as practical high-fashion.

What was she doing here? Shouldn't she be busy leading her trade-hub? Maybe it has something to do with my run-in with the Church Of The Otherworldly. Or was this simply her checking in on me?

"You could say that," I admit slowly. "Oh, come in. What brings you here?"

"You are surprised?" she asks. Ignoring that I obviously was. "I told you a few days ago I would visit you."

"Right, you want details about the deal I made with the church."

"That too," Iren admits. "And to buy a few things. Did you forget my big haul?"

Scratching my head I try to remember.

Urgh, I forgot to comb my hair. Pretty sure my hair looks like a birdnest right now. Big haul. Right. Iren wanted to buy some of my enchanted bras for her harem. I can practically smell the void-favors rolling my way. If they had a corporeal form. Well, you get what I mean, right?

"The bras," I exclaim out loud. "Right. I can materialize them and then you can make your decision about which one you need."

"Don't bother. I take all of them. In every variation you have," Iren shot me down. "But first, what is this?"

What does she mean? Iren had stepped into my salesroom and then got distracted. I wonder what caught her eye.

"Oh, that. That's Becky."

Instead of gracing my comment with one of her own, she just looks at me. Right, I guess I wasn't very forthcoming with my answer.

"She's an automata. Old Maynard designed them and they run around all over the property. They act as servants and guards. I thought it might be a worthy research project to pursue."

"Interesting," Iren remarks dryly. Studying the automata up close. "Is it safe? Can she move on her own?"

"No, I got stumped. A vital component is missing. Without that, they are just expansive mannequins."

"What else have you been up to?"

"Well, where to start-"

I spare you the details of a half bell of me summarizing my research to Iren. As well as me regurgitating my encounter with the church.

"Looks like you are drifting into the fashion sector with your research," Iren remarked at the end. "I should bring you a few dresses."

"What? No. That just happened by chance. I don't think I am ready yet to wear dresses."

"I mean for enchantment," Iren corrects me. "It could do wonders for your portfolio. And a few pieces of court-appeal with defensive properties could do well sales-wise in the high society."

"I guess it might be worth looking into," I admit aloud. "But for now, let's talk business. You want every bra once and in each color version, right?"

"No, I need seventeen of each bra in each color." Iren gives me a tired sigh. "That's the drawback of a large harem, Lillyn. Especially one recruited from the high society itself. My advice: don't. It has its perks, but damn, it can sap your void-favors."

Do I hear a "ka-ching"? Poor Iren. Lucky me. Come to papa, void-favors. Wait. Come to momma.

"I hadn't planned on having one," I admit truthfully. "Though you might want to warn Essie."

"It's the one lesson she doesn't wanna hear from me," Iren admits with another sigh.

"Well, if you say every version you don't mean the 'Cross-Strap Bra Of The Shieldmaiden', right? That one is over three thousand void-favors."

"How in tarnation did you manage that?" Iren looks really disturbed by my revelation. "Maybe not those."

"Can I offer anything else? Enchanted lipsticks? Or a really special strap-on?"

I think the rest of my sales pitch is better left behind closed doors.

....

....

I am not sure if Iren can see me as I wave towards the Little Mule that is just taking off. All too soon the intricate design on Iren's ship blur together. She has this pattern of white, pink, and red lines all flowing into each other. Like a giant knot. Accented by gold that announces her status in the void-trader community. Which I am finally part of.

This time I managed to remember the guild donation. One thousand void-favors less in my pockets. Not that I mind much. Thanks to Iren's little shopping trip I am nearly eight thousand void favors richer. And that's after the donation. I even managed to sell four of my shieldmaiden bras.

As even the speck of Iren's Little Mule vanishes in the distance, I turn around. Time to service some customers. Or should I? I mean today I earned more than in a rotation. Maybe a day off will do me good.

"Lillyn!"

Is that Dera running towards me? I nearly didn't recognize her. Muss be her new endowment. Her chest is way bigger than yesterday. And why is she running around topless? Well, save for one very expensive bra.

"Dera? What's up with you?" I ask as she reaches me.

"I need more shield potions!"

"You already used them all up?" I mean they aren't supposed to be drunk like energy drinks. "And why are you running around all naked?"

"It is better if I show you," Dera said instead of answering. "I can demonstrate if you gift me two shield potions."

What is she on about? Dera also has this mischievous grin on her face. I don't think I get an answer unless I bribe her with potions. Fine. Let's summon two and see where it goes.

"Observe," Dera simply says as I hand the potions over. She uncorks both at downs them at the same time.

At once, I can see her chest swelling further outward. A little more and she might reach my category of personal endowments. While mine is larger, hers are nearly uncovered and, of course, it draws the eyes of adventurers around us.

"How is that possible?" I ask aloud. "The bra should stop the growth at thirty-eight percent."

"Wrong!" Dera immediately corrects me. "The thirty-eight percent are based on the maximum of the shield the bra can create. But you forgot that one can overcharge a personal shield. And with it, my bosom grows even larger."

"That's possible? Well, apparently it is. Let me guess, you are so proud of your new melons that you have to show them to everyone around."

"What are melons? Anyway. The reason why I am not wearing armor is simple. It doesn't fit. The bra grows when my breasts grow, but my armor doesn't. That gets uncomfortable real fast. And I don't need the armor anyway as long as the shield is up."

"Alright. That makes sense. But just a little. Aren't they distracting? The mass of it all?"

"What? No!" Dera said quickly to squash away my doubts. "For one, I can take calculated risks like never before without risking getting hurt. On the other hand, my male comrades really look out for me. The less I get hurt, the longer they get to stare at my magnificent bosom. Our group's healer is so jealous, I swear once she got the void-favors to spare, she'll get a bra from you too."

Did I just imagine it or did Dera give me a dirty wink? Anyway. I am still not fully convinced overloading one's bosom with potions and running around half-naked is practical.

"Aside from making your male compatriots horny and your female ones jealous, is there any actual improvement in combat?"

"Yes! That's why I need more potions. We nearly made it to the workshop in the Servant's Quarters."

"Well, that is probably the place old Maynard tinkered with his automata. It's on the top floor and normally hard to reach. Sometimes one can find some goodies or enchanted gear. Buried under stacks of papers, books, and blueprints."

"A workshop you say-"

I look at the Servant's Quarters in the distance. There, I might find a clue to unlocking my very own automata that work. Maybe even the key to unlocking their full potential.

"Say, Dera, are you up for a quest?"

"What type of quest?"

"The hardest type," I reveal. "An escort quest-"