The Soul-Extracting Artisan

Today is one of those days.

My landlady’s calls demanding rent are like death threats, one every hour. I feel the last few coins in my pocket and sigh, then finally dial the agency.

“Hello, is this Old Six from the black market? It’s Shen Ke. Got any work?”

“Well, if it isn’t Master Shen! It’s been ages since you had a job. What, running short on cash?” A greasy voice comes through the phone.

“Cut the chatter. Do you have work or not?” I’m in no mood to argue. The loss of my emotions has made me increasingly impatient. Even saying one extra word to someone feels exhausting.