The shop bell chimed softly, echoing through the small butcher shop as the scent of fresh-cut meat and faint traces of iron lingered in the air. Elias Granger stood behind the counter, a towering figure dressed in a blood-speckled apron. His dark, messy hair hung low over his brow, shadowing his sharp, unreadable eyes. He worked in silence, his hands moving with practiced precision as he sharpened a gleaming cleaver.

The door creaked open, and the familiar sound of slow, shuffling steps filled the room. Elias looked up briefly, his expression neutral, as a small, hunched figure entered. It was Mrs. Carver, the elderly woman who lived a few blocks down, known for her warm smile and her talent for making hearty family meals. She clutched a woven basket in her frail hands, her face lighting up at the sight of Elias.

"Ah, Elias, dear," she greeted warmly, her voice soft but filled with energy. "I’m planning a big feast this weekend for my grandchildren. You know how they love their roast lamb and sausages. Think you can help an old woman out?"

Elias gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod and set the cleaver down with a soft clink. Without a word, he reached for his notepad and pen, flipping it open to a blank page.

"How many are you feeding?" His voice was low and gravelly, but calm—a stark contrast to his imposing presence.

"Let’s see… There’s seven of us altogether. Oh, but you know how the boys eat! Better make it enough for ten," she chuckled, her eyes crinkling with warmth.

Elias jotted down her request with quick, neat handwriting before moving toward the cooler. As he pulled out a rack of lamb and began portioning it with steady hands, the old woman chattered away, filling the shop with her cheerful rambling.

"Do you know, my youngest, Clara, just had her first baby? A darling little girl! They’ll be joining us, too—oh, I can’t wait to show you pictures sometime," she said, her voice brimming with pride.

Elias gave a faint hum of acknowledgment as he worked