Leon walked through the settlent with quiet steps, keeping his hood low and his eyes open. Morning had already stretched across Evergreen, warming the streets and pulling people out of their hos. rchants shouted prices. Children ran between stalls. Hunters carried fresh kills into the market. It was the loudest part of the day, but Leon didn’t slow down. He had a task.
He needed a roof he could call his own.
Lyra’s house was fine for a few nights, but he knew he couldn’t stay there forever. He had plans that didn’t include sleeping under the nose of soone who asked too many questions. And with Sylveon still hiding in the woods, Leon needed privacy more than anything else.
He followed a dirt path that curved away from the busier streets until it led to a small cluster of older houses. Most were plain and worn down, but one had a wooden sign stuck into the ground in front of it. The letters were rough, painted by soone who didn’t take their ti.
ROOM FOR RENT – WEEKLY PAY ACCEPTED.
Leon stopped a few steps away when he heard voices. The kind that carried irritation instead of conversation.
A woman stood in front of the house, hands resting on her hips. Her clothes were simple and slightly dirty, like she had been working since dawn. In front of her stood a man who looked angry enough to spit on the ground.
"I told you I’m not paying that full price," the man barked, pointing at the house. "Look at it! The roof leaks, the walls look like soone fought a bear inside, and the door doesn’t even close properly."
The woman crossed her arms tighter. "It’s the only place this close to the market that’s still open. You don’t like the price, then find sowhere else."
"This is robbery," the man snapped.
"Then walk away," she fired back.
The man muttered sothing and stomped off, not bothering to look back. The woman exhaled hard and rubbed her forehead like she had been dealing with fools all morning.
Leon finally approached.
When he got close enough to see the house clearly, he understood why the man refused to pay full price. The place looked exhausted. The walls were stained with old water lines. The roof sagged slightly. One window had a crack running across it. The fence leaned awkwardly, like it was too tired to stand straight. A ho like this could still be useful, but not without work.
He stood beside the woman, who eyed him with a half-tired, half-annoyed expression.
"You here to complain about the price too?" she asked.
"No," Leon said.
"Good. I’m tired of people shouting before even looking inside. It’s cheap. Not free."
Leon studied the building again. He wasn’t expecting much, but this was worse than he imagined.
"Can I see the inside?" he asked.
The woman shrugged. "If you can walk, you can see it."
She led him to the door, which squeaked loudly when she pushed it. The sll of old wood, dust, and damp air drifted out. The floorboards creaked under their feet. So parts of the ceiling had small holes where rain must have slipped through. A broken chair sat in the corner. The sink area was chipped. Every corner of the place had its own complaint.
Leon walked slowly, observing everything. He pressed one hand against a wall. Soft. Water damage. He checked the window. Loose fra. He crouched down to examine the door hinges. Rusted.
The house needed work. But it was still standing, and that ant it could be restored.
The woman leaned against the doorfra, arms crossed again. "So? Still breathing? Most folks run off after slling the inside."
Leon stepped back into the doorway and faced her. "I can’t pay full price."
She raised an eyebrow. "You too, huh?"
"I’m not asking for a lower price because it’s broken. I’m offering sothing in return."
That made her pause.
Leon continued, "I’ll take it for half the weekly price. And I’ll repair it myself. All of it."
The woman let out a short laugh. "You plan to fix this disaster alone?"
"I know how," Leon said simply.
His voice carried a certainty that made her study him again, this ti more carefully. She wasn’t dealing with soone trying to cheat her. She was dealing with soone who believed he could actually repair this ss.
"And how exactly do you know that?" she asked.
"My father was a carpenter," Leon answered. "I worked with him most of my life."
It wasn’t a lie. His previous life father had been one. Leon had grown up with sawdust sticking to his shoes and the sound of hamrs hitting nails echoing in the background. He knew how to replace hinges, seal holes, patch walls, and fix wooden structures. His hands rembered even now.
The woman folded her arms again but less defensive this ti. "Half the price is still low."
"Half," Leon repeated, "and the house will be in better condition by the end of the week."
She looked inside the house again. Looked at the holes. The stains. The warped wood. She sighed heavily.
"Fine," she said. "Half price. But if this place collapses on you, that’s your problem. I don’t give refunds."
Leon nodded. "Deal."
They shook hands, and she walked off without another argunt. Leon stepped into the house again, letting the quiet settle over him. It felt almost peaceful, even in its broken state.
He stood there for a mont, taking everything in. Then he rolled up his sleeves.
The first step was clearing the debris. He picked up the broken chair and set it outside. He swept the floor until it stopped complaining under the broom. He opened the cracked window to let sunlight in. Dust lifted into the air and danced in the beam of light.
Next ca testing the boards. He pressed along the floor, marking the weak spots in his head. He checked the walls, tapping lightly to find hollows. He tested each window fra. He examined the roof from inside the house, following the water lines to find leak points.
It wasn’t perfect work, but it was familiar.
Leon walked outside and found a stack of cut wood soone had tossed aside near the fence. The pieces weren’t pretty, but they were usable. He carried them inside, one at a ti, feeling his old instincts return. His body still rembered weight balance and tool handling even though he had no tools yet.
He grabbed a loose plank and tested its flexibility. Too warped. Useless. Another plank was better. He set it aside.
The more he worked, the more the house felt like sothing alive that needed steady hands instead of pity.
After an hour, he had the place cleared, sorted, aired, and partially inspected. He stepped outside to breathe for a mont. The sun had risen higher. People walked past occasionally, glancing at him like he was strange for taking interest in that forgotten house.
He didn’t care.
He went back inside and kept working.
He patched small cracks first using bits of wood he shaved with a broken piece of tal he found near the sink. It wasn’t ideal, but it worked. He tightened loose boards by wedging wooden chips under them. Then he checked the ceiling again, climbed up on a sturdy crate he found, and began cleaning out the edges of the leak points.
His hands grew dirty. His shirt grew dusty. Sweat gathered on his forehead. But he kept going.
Hours passed like that—quiet, patient, thodical.
By late afternoon, the house no longer looked abandoned. It still needed days of work, but the air felt lighter inside. The walls looked less sick. The floor didn’t groan as loudly. Even the cracked window sat a little straighter in its fra.
Leon stepped back, breathing slow and deep.
This wasn’t a ho yet.
But it could beco one.
And for now, that was enough.
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