Vincent left the guild feeling uplifted since he abandoned those dark plots. His state of mind improved, allowing him to focus on the important things.
His own desires!
—| Vincent: 'Let what's coming come! In all senses of the word. Haha!'
Suddenly, his feet stopped outside a certain blacksmith its sign reading.
—| The Goblin's Anvil |—
This was the store Zarina chose, but It was quite interesting to read this.
He wondered if the owner was a wrinkled old man, mistaken for a goblin. No matter how much he thought, humans couldn't accept a male goblin on their doorstep, right?
—| Vincent: 'Probably because of their manhood being bigger? Well, it's still small compared to the daddy here!'
With a jingle, the wooden door creaked open. Small engravings and cracks filled the door's border. He didn't know; It was a traditional custom for them
