Chapter 341: My Uncle Paid to Watch Me Say No

Hansen arrived at my casino wearing expensive shoes that had clearly survived the robbery better than the man inside them.

I had spent four days recovering, paid six hundred credits for a follow-up examination, and booked supported transport instead of pretending determination could repair damaged scales. Bridget traveled beside me, keeping the journey pleasant through a combination of affection and refusing to let me carry anything heavier than an opinion.

Lyra met us before the appointment. She kissed the uninjured side of my face, then stayed close while Cherry hugged Bridget as if the visit had been arranged for her specifically.

"You can put your things upstairs," Cherry told her. "I cleared a drawer, although Matt will claim he owns it because he once looked at the cabinet."

"I had considered the cabinet very fondly, which counted for something in certain kingdoms."

"Then your kingdom can share," Lyra said, brushing a thumb along my jaw before helping me settle on the cushioned reception seat.

The warmth lasted until Hansen saw the mascot performer standing beside the four ducks.

"This is childish," my uncle said, which was the first accurate contribution he had made to the arrangement.

"You hired the man, so I assumed you wanted your money’s worth. Technically the broker’s money, but I understood why that distinction upset you."

[System: Give the bastard a duck, mate. He can squeeze it every time he remembers what liquidity used to mean.]

I wanted the withdrawal in writing before he discovered another use for a noise complaint.

The broker laid out Hansen’s booking sheet. My uncle had promised access he didn’t possess, backed the promise with future proceeds, and described the casino dispute as a temporary family misunderstanding.

Lyra put the old exposure record beside it. She didn’t need to replay everything involving Channel to make her point, and I appreciated that she chose not to turn her own suffering into entertainment for a roomful of strangers.

"You knew you couldn’t speak for us," she said. "You knew why, and you did it anyway."

Hansen looked at me instead of answering her. That annoyed me more than the forged appearance.

"She asked you a question, Uncle. You can answer the woman you tried hurting, or the duck can take your turn while you practice."

Cherry squeezed the nearest duck before he decided. The pathetic squeak did a remarkable job of reducing his remaining dignity.

The broker wanted the claim withdrawn before his company spent another credit. I wanted Hansen to say it where the performer and the booking camera could hear.

Bridget read the short cancellation aloud. No performance rights, no permission to book my partners, no authority over the casino or club. She finished without making it sound like a speech, then placed the pen where Hansen couldn’t pretend not to see it.

My uncle signed hard enough to damage the paper beneath the form.

[System: Make Your Uncle Eat the Invoice completed, mate. Three thousand EXP and fifteen IP, putting you on eighteen thousand of a hundred thousand and three hundred ten IP. The duck did excellent work, but I refuse to start a second payroll.]

It had shown more professional restraint than most of the family.

Hansen rose as if leaving quickly could undo the witnesses. The mascot asked whether the victory dance was still required, and Cherry told him the canceled appearance deserved a farewell version.

The man gave us six seconds of terrible dancing. Hansen walked into the reception door because he was watching me enjoy it.

I would remember that sound during difficult nights.

The performer thanked Cherry for the food before packing, and I told the broker to pay his agreed rehearsal fee regardless of my uncle’s tantrum. Ruining Hansen’s afternoon didn’t require ruining the hired man’s week, especially when he had supplied the best door collision I had seen all year.

Once he left, the million-credit meeting deposit went back to the broker through the casino desk. I watched the refund notification with the grief normally reserved for a pet moving somewhere with better snacks.

The broker offered a separate thirty-thousand-credit sponsorship for one opening-night broadcast at Udder the Sea, provided we supplied an actual event. No ownership transfer, no lifetime access, and nobody’s body included in the price.

I agreed after the women checked the terms. The retired dancers would choose their own participation, and the money would go into the club account only when the agreement was complete.

The performer packed his costume, but a spare promotional outfit remained in the box. Hansen had approved that one too, and the broker said we could keep it as part of clearing the failed booking.

I accepted with the dignity of a man collecting evidence, while Old Mate called me a souvenir goblin.

Lyra waited until the visitors had gone before resting her hand against my upper length.

"You promised me a day outside," she said. "I found a little market with a floating garden, and nobody there has asked to buy you yet."

"That sounded suspiciously like the sort of date I might enjoy without committing fraud, but I was prepared to keep an open mind."

Bridget caught the hopeful look between us and offered to help Cherry arrange dinner. Cherry immediately appointed her official taste tester, a position that apparently came with access to every cupboard and no requirement to prove she belonged.

I thanked them, then told Lyra the afternoon was hers.

We reached the private lift before the broker’s final message arrived. The shipping arrangement had already been triggered through the warehouse, using the commission deal Hansen claimed would save him from his current debts.

The cow was on its way to the club whether the opening happened or not.

I forwarded the message to Tasmin and told her to hold the crate sealed in the service area. She replied with a photograph of the arriving freight label, followed by a question about why the listed emergency contact was my casino.

Under the contact line, somebody had added a handwritten note instructing the installers to run the first demonstration with the owner aboard.