Vape Shop Isekai: A Retail Manager’s Guide to a Stolen World

Mark stared at the sea of pale, goth faces crammed into the brightly lit room.

Over a hundred of the Shafted filled the rented conference room at the SheRockton Inn. They had been forced to move from the Rockmada Inn down the street when the initial room proved too small for the sheer volume of spiked leather, thick black eyeliner, and heavy combat boots that showed up. The contrast of these brooding, coal-dusted dwarven miners sitting in uncomfortable, pastel-patterned hotel banquet chairs under buzzing fluorescent lights was jarring.

Mark took a moment to acknowledge his Saturday morning cartoon past and looked over at Raven, who was leaning casually against the hideous floral wallpaper.

“I thought Pete said a few people,” Mark whispered, looking around for the giant dwarf. “This is a few dozen.”

“This is how you effect real change, Mark,” Raven said, gesturing to the exhausted, done-looking crowd of laborers. “Pete leads by ensuring everyone gets a say. It’s a collective.”

Mark considered her words and searched the sea of scowls for a friendly face. There were none. These people had been through absolute hell in the deep mines for the Dwarven lords and the human King. They were done with the corporate lies. They didn't want a pep talk; they needed concrete, actionable results.

The heavy double doors at the rear of the conference room opened. Pete Steel-Shaft entered.

The dwarf was taller than every other dwarf in the room by a full head and shoulders, but possessed the exact same wide, immovable, stocky build. He waded slowly through the crowd, patting broad backs and shaking calloused hands as he walked, but never taking his piercing gaze off Mark. He had been kind and jovial enough at his home when he originally invited them to join his friends, but this was a different man altogether. He was silent, calm, and operating with a heavy, magnetic conviction that Mark had rarely seen in this world.

He had long, gorgeous, flowing black hair, looking exactly like his Earth namesake. But what Mark had come to find out—and had needed ample mental time to prepare for—was the one key, terrifying difference.

He came to a stop just at the front of the group, standing face-to-face with Mark.

“Shafted!”

A shrill, echoing, high-pitched drone escaped Pete's lips, bouncing off the cheap ceiling tiles.

Mark had to bite the inside of his cheek until it bled to stifle a laugh, desperately forcing himself to stop thinking about Him from the Powerpuff Girls.

“This wizard says he can help us.” Pete's terrifying, falsetto voice commanded the absolute attention of the room. “He was brought by a personal friend, so I think we need to hear him out.”

“Who is he, Pete?” A dwarven woman stepped forward, wearing a tight black leather corset and knee-high spiked platform boots that clicked heavily on the linoleum.

“His name is Mark,” Pete responded. “Why don’t you introduce yourself to the creator, sister?”

The woman folded her thick, muscular arms over her corseted chest. “Lacuna Coal. I head the Shafted Women's Guild. Care to tell me how a frail little Changeling man is going to help us?”

Mark paused. He took a breath, letting his 22 Charisma and 22 Intelligence take the wheel. He considered these people’s lived experiences. He needed to be real with them. He needed to speak their language.

“I’m not going to hire you,” Mark said, his voice projecting clearly across the room.

A collective, angry gasp fell over the crowd. Hands drifted toward heavy mining picks and hidden daggers.

Pete held his massive hands up, his high-pitched voice slicing through the tension. “Quiet! Let him finish.”

Mark stepped forward, meeting Lacuna’s harsh glare. “I'm not going to hire you, because I don't want wage slaves. I want to donate land to you. All the land surrounding my store. I will pay you for the infrastructure you build, but you will build your own homes on your own land.”

A stunned hush fell over the crowd. Whispers danced between dark lips and pierced ears.

A sturdy dwarf with black hair that stood unnaturally, perfectly straight up atop his head—and jutted straight down from his chin—stepped forward, crossing his arms. “Wayne Stat-Dick. I work down in tunnel XK42. Big rigging and demolitions. Where exactly is this magical, free land?”

Mark ripped the band-aid off. “The Forest of Nihilism.”

Frantic chattering waved through the crowd. Someone in the back laughed bitterly. “No one owns that place! It's a death trap!”

“Quiet down,” Pete waved his hands again, silencing the room. “Gerard Waytoodeep has a valid point. No one has even been inside that place since the gods know when.”

“We have a shop there, Pete.” Raven pushed off the wall, stepping up beside Mark, her Drow presence adding immediate lethal credibility to the pitch. “I’ve been there myself. He isn’t lying. It’s safe.”

Talking erupted from the crowd again, everyone trying to ask a question at once. One heavily accented voice cut through the din. A dwarf with excessive black eyeliner and uncomfortably meticulously groomed facial hair pointed an angry finger.

“What will the King think of us just occupying royal land?”

Mark paused. He genuinely hadn’t thought of that. Thankfully, he had written the lore, so he knew exactly how to pivot. Good thing he had made the King an easily manipulatable puppet in his early drafts.

“When did revolutionaries start caring about what puppet Kings thought?” Mark let the question hang in the heavy air, accessing the deep archives of his own world-building. He locked eyes with the eyeliner-clad dwarf. “Trent Reznut stood up against King BoltsonF Washers. Kurt Cobalt died fighting King Rench to free the southern mines. We can fight this King, too, if he comes for our borders.”

“What’s in it for you?” Pete asked, his falsetto dropping to a serious, calculating whisper. “Why us?”

“Because you’re good people just trying to live outside of a broken, corporate system,” Mark said earnestly. “The fact that you are the absolute best diggers and craftsmen in Tawagoto isn’t lost on me, either. We need help. We want to build an independent kingdom of peace and profit for all of us, and we want your help to physically build the roads and the walls.”

Furious talking and debating broke out among the crowd. Pete turned and spoke quietly with Lacuna Coal and Wayne Stat-Dick for a few tense minutes. Finally, Pete cleared his throat, the shrill noise instantly silencing the room again.

“We want a guaranteed living wage for all of our workers,” Pete demanded, laying out the union terms. “Time off with our families. We want to be treated like Dwarves, not disposable corporate assets.”

Mark’s heart soared. He could get them. This was going to be the beginning of fixing it all. This was how he beat Craig.

“Done!” Mark said excitedly, slipping back into his old DM habits. “I’ll pay you all a starting rate of—”

A sharp, painful elbow caught him hard in the ribs.

Mark choked on his words. Raven shook her head slightly, her pale eyes flashing a severe warning.

Mark stopped himself, the reality of their situation crashing back down. He wasn't the god of this world anymore. He was just the Wizard. Sara was the Manager.

“I… I actually can’t tell you exactly how much I will pay you right now,” Mark corrected himself, rubbing his ribs. “But I promise you fair, equitable treatment and a negotiated contract when we talk to my boss.” He smiled, looking at Raven. “She’s not like other bosses.”

After a few more moments of tense deliberation, Pete crossed his massive arms.

“I’ll sign off on this,” Pete said, his high-pitched voice carrying absolute authority. “I’ll put out the call to the guilds and gather an advance crew of twenty to arrive and start building within the week. This is entirely contingent upon this not being complete bullshit.”

“Understood,” Mark nodded, extending a hand to shake the massive dwarf's calloused palm. “When your crew arrives, just follow the giant dick trench.”

[SYSTEM ALERT: Encounter Cleared.]

[XP Awarded: 3,000]

[Level Up Available! Unspent Attribute Points: 4]

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