John sat at his desk, thinking about the previous day. A single human girl had come through, sharing an intriguing tale of half vampires. Something John would surely look into more himself when he found the time.

She was afraid, terrified even, of John. And telepathy nearly broke the poor girl. John was no expert in business, but he recognized these as the problems they were.

He made himself a plan for the day that he would work through during the downtime. Make his shop appear less scary, and figure out some way to communicate without telepathy. Or at the very least, keep the thoughts more simple so that the convulsions were less severe.

The first problem was more manageable, John thought. Learning to speak would be complicated, but making his shop more cheerful would be simple. He looked around his shop, the gray stone walls contrasting the dark wooden bookshelves. The only hint of colour being the gold engravings in the bookshelves — enchantments to keep the books in good condition.

He had acquired these bookshelves at a furniture store on the other side of town, thinking them to be quite nice. But perhaps a bookstore needs other things. Like lights, he thought, remembering the girl's mention of her strange light. Torches were much too dangerous in a bookstore, but perhaps some magical flameless lights could be useful.

He supposed some of his magic could be used to light the store, he'd heard that his writing was quite bright but it felt disingenuous to him. His shop deserved something beautiful, something crafted with love and passion. Not a bunch of 'O's floating throughout the store.

And so, John left his store, tapping on his door a couple of times to activate an enchantment. Closing the store during operation hours felt wrong to him, but there would be no point to trading his books if everybody he met was terrified. He walked down the cobblestone road towards the town proper, people staring at him as he passed them.

Most of the population here were humans, and he was generally treated kindly but the stares got a little old at times. Part of the reason why he bought a building a little more out of the way. More privacy, and less people to be staring at him. He didn't judge the people for it. He knew he was strange for this area, and people were naturally drawn to that mystery.

People would even come up to him and ask him what he was on occasion, as though that was a question he could answer even if he wanted to. He often thought about telling them anyway, pushing through the idea of what he was and who his people were. Just to spite them. It was a fantasy of his, one he could never follow through on. It's one thing to rend a person's mind with information they aren't prepared to handle in your fantasy. It's another to do it in reality. One of them is much messier and just makes you feel bad, even if you think it wouldn't when you walk down the street daydreaming of it.

He arrived at the furniture store he bought his bookshelves at before, yanking him out of his dangerous fantasies. He'd never act on them, of course. But it was still his little joys to think about petty revenge. Or maybe not so petty, considering they would likely die. Yet another thing he'd never understand but tried to respect.

He stood outside the store, looking around for a moment. This area was much wealthier, the stores made of varying materials. Some made of stone, yet seeming of much higher quality than anything in his district. Clean white, and of one solid piece instead of the mix of stone his buildings had. Another a single large blue translucent crystal. Wisps of magic floated through the street, calling John to different buildings. Flashing signs floating outside of each building, words describing the stores.

John entered the furniture store, Soteco was the name, according to the sign above the door. It was much larger inside than John's bookstore was, with three stories each of which taller than John's single floor. It needed to be, he supposed, seeing the furniture contained within. Bookshelves, desks, chairs, light fixtures, clocks. You name it, and it was stuffed in here. Organized beautifully, each floor separated by an ornate wooden staircase.

He headed up to the second floor where the lights were and looked around for something that would fit. He didn't want it to be too gaudy, but something to match his bookshelves at least. He looked for light posts, maybe something of a lighter material than his dark bookshelves. Add in some contrast, he thought contrast would probably be good.

A couple of lights stood out to him. One made of the same white stone some of the buildings were made of here. Marble, according to the piece of paper attached to it. The other was a somewhat off white wood with similar gold engravings to his bookshelf. He wasn't sure what the gold did on the lights, but he made a note to ask the clerk if he chose this one.

He thought he probably would, given that it matched his bookshelves somewhat while still providing the contrast he was looking for. But he spent a few more minutes looking around the floor. Nothing else really stood out to him, and he couldn't decide between the two lights he had settled on. Maybe both, he thought? Would it be better to have different kinds of lights, or better to have consistency. If it was only one of the lights, he thought he would prefer the wooden one. But he did quite like the stone one too.

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John summoned a coin, one side having a single head and the other side having two heads. He would flip it, and if it landed with one head he would take the wooden one. If it landed with two heads, he would take both. He flipped the coin in the air, watching it spin. He could see the result already, the coin spinning terribly slow but let it land on the back of his hand regardless. One head.

He headed downstairs to the front desk, seeing the same human man sitting behind it as when he purchased his bookshelves. The man flinched but smiled and greeted John asking to be lead to whatever it is he would like to purchase. John appreciated the straightforwardness this time. The last time it was this back and forth with the human insisting that they only did delivery and John couldn't take the bookshelves himself. The man gave in eventually but it was still a frustrating experience.

The man followed John to the light he wanted. He pushed a question through to the man, inquiring about the gold engravings on the light. The man flinched again but explained that the engravings were to help the enchantments keep the light running for longer. The marble one didn't require it apparently since marble was already an excellent conductor of mana, but the wood required some assistance. John remembered seeing wooden lights without gold in it before but he wasn't an expert on enchantments like the man before him was.

The lights were 15 gold each and John summoned a small pouch full of coins, waving his hand over the lights as five of them vanished. The man took the pouch and thanked John for his patronage then hurried back to his desk. John had enough of walking through the busy streets for the day and so focused on his shop, teleporting back to the inside of it.

He started placing the five lights throughout his store, hoping they would be enough to light up the place. Maybe he would have somebody with eyes come and help him set up the lights another day. A knock on the door interrupted him, and he remembered he never unlocked the door.

John rushed over, opening it and seeing who was behind it. It was another human, a man this time. Red hair and torn clothes revealing his scarred body below.

He looked at John, "Is this a bookstore?" the man asked.

John looked at his door and the writing on it, remembering that not everybody could read. Especially those in a poorer district like this, he nearly slapped himself at the mistake. No wonder so few people came by.

John nodded his head and moved out of the way so the man could enter. He went back to placing his lights around the store, paying attention to the man walking around. Perhaps he could help John ensure the place was well lit. John looked at the placement of the lights, satisfied that it was the best he could do and sat back down at his desk.

"Do you have any books that are easier to read? I'm trying to teach myself to read and these all seem a little complicated..." the man asked, approaching John's desk.

Of course, John realized, if people here couldn't even read his sign how would they read the books. He contemplated for a moment just sending the entirety of the written language through to the man but decided against it. He didn't want to cause another of his customers to convulse as he did yesterday.

But the thought of having to learn something that somebody else knew was just incredible. Yet another reason the spoken word was inferior, having to teach people instead of giving them the knowledge would slow progress down to an incredible degree. But that was why he loved it here, it was all so different. So strange, and that interested him. They were happy, they felt successful and powerful despite being so fragile.

Right, the customer. John had learned from his experience yesterday and instead of debating over anything he merely waved his hand, causing the books to rearrange themselves. Some of the books floated back to John, vanishing once they were within about a meter. Other books appeared and floated towards the nearest bookshelf.

The man watched in wonder, maw agape in shock, or perhaps horror. John directed him to the bookshelf he placed all of the easier books on. They ranged from children's books to entertainment for younger adults. The man looked through the books, picking out one of the children's books. A fun story of a rabbit that hopped around a field meeting lots of different animals.

The man asked how much it would cost, and John pushed the idea he already had built through to the man. The man shivered, yet another not used to telepathy. He thought for a moment before he began to share his story.

"I was captured by a group of bandits a couple of years back. They were quite nice though actually. I was given some of the most delicious food I'd ever eaten, had a certain degree of freedom to roam around the camp and one of them even taught me the alphabet. I had to help them with menial work in exchange, sometimes mining, sometimes cleaning up.

"If we traveled I would usually get a disproportionate amount of luggage to drag along with me. And I couldn't leave. It's strange, I was without a doubt a slave of theirs. But I don't resent them for it. One day a group of adventurers came and attacked the camp while I was off cleaning up some laundry at the nearby river.

"I returned to death, the wildlife having come in to find what the smell was. I was attacked, and struggled to survive, running as hard as I could. Somehow I made it to this town but nobody's willing to help me so I'm poor, starving and homeless. I had a much better life when I was a slave. I want to learn to read partly to honour Alicia's memory, and partly to find employment somehow. Is that enough for the book?"

John nodded his head and sent a simple thank you through to the man. The man thanked John and left with his book. Wishing to be a slave again just so he could eat. John thought about it for a moment.

The story was too incomplete to draw conclusions. Perhaps the bandits were worse than the man made them seem, or perhaps the man just isn't asking for help instead of people not being willing to help. John certainly would've had the man asked. But perhaps it is difficult to ask for help when you've been a slave for so long and the town should recognize the problem and have accessible options available to people anyway.

But how common is the problem, John wondered. Is it worth investing the money into something that so few people are affected by? Or is it a more wide spread problem that shows a lack of care from the leaders? An interesting story, John thought. He hoped for more people to come in with related stories so he could piece more of the picture together.