"As we said," Zagan replied smoothly, his voice carrying over his shoulder as he led the group, "they didn't do things half-heartedly here. The capital has to look like the jewel of the kingdom. They also invested in the living environment."
"The outer circle as well?" I asked, watching a group of merchants hauling crates toward a warehouse.
"They're still busy with that," Zagan said as he turned down a corner street, his long coat fluttering lightly with the movement.
"Un." I nodded, pulling my scarf a little higher over my face as we followed. Rounding the bend, I immediately knew we had stepped onto the main road. The air was thicker here-vendors hawked wares from open stalls, families shuffled along, and guards in polished armor watched the flow of traffic with bored vigilance. The crowd carried with it the smell of sweat, perfume, leather, and spices, all at once.
Adjusting the scarf higher still, I muttered to myself. The last thing I wanted was some adventurer with a sharp nose sniffing too close. Thinking about adventurers at all reminded me of something.
"Hey," I asked, glancing at Amari, who walked beside me, "where do adventurers sign up?"
Her brows arched as though I'd said something strange. "You want to sign up?"
"Yes." I nodded firmly.
"I'll ask Zagan later. We can take care of that after shopping. I haven't signed up yet either." She gave a thoughtful little nod of her own.
"Okay." My gaze flicked ahead toward Zagan and Rachel, who were walking side by side in their own little bubble of chatter. Since they weren't paying us any attention, I lowered my voice again. "You wanted to talk to me. I'm all ears now."
Amari hesitated, her dark eyes darting once toward Rachel before returning to me. She took a slow breath, clearly weighing her words. "What do you think about Rachel?"
"Cute," I admitted with a shrug. "That's about it. I don't really know her personally. I've only known her a day."
"That's true..." Amari's lips pressed together briefly, then she leaned a little closer. "But you do know she likes you, right?"
"She was quite obvious about it," I said, narrowing my eyes at her. "I don't know why, though."
"You're handsome," Amari said matter-of-factly. Then she tilted her head, eyes gleaming with something like amusement. "You are beautiful, even though your eyes can appear intimidating." In this world, a lot of people like that sort of thing. Rachel is one of them. Your only downside is..." She pointed openly at my midsection, "...your curse and how ripped you are. Yes, you're lean, but anyone looking closely can see the definition."
I glanced down at my stomach, exhaled sharply through my nose, then looked back at her with mock offense. "You're mean. I like my six-pack. My build is lovely. It shows I'm not a pushover."
Amari smirked faintly. "That's true. And I didn't mean you should change it. Not that you could. How you look fits you-mean, ruthless, untouchable. That's the vibe you give off." She swept her gaze across the people around us. I followed her eyes, and sure enough, most pedestrians subtly curved around our group, giving us a wide berth. A mother tugged her child closer, and a pair of merchants turned down a side street just to avoid passing by.
"You see?" Amari continued softly. "People avoid us just because you're walking with us. You've been through more than any of us. That weight shows, even if you don't notice."
I frowned. "If what you say is true, then why does trouble always find me?"
"I don't know," she admitted, suddenly awkward. "Let's... get back to the topic."
"Fine. I'm listening."
"Un." She lowered her voice again. "The worst part is that this isn't Rachel's first time falling for someone. It's happened a few times. She falls in love at first sight, often. The last one was a recruit who just joined the black ops. She helped him with some things, and that's when she fell for him. They got along well, but it didn't last. He couldn't handle the training and quit. He never said a word to her about his struggles. When he left, he didn't even tell her. Her biggest mistake was chasing after him afterward, only to find out he was already married."
Her sigh was heavy, her shoulders drooping a little. "She took it badly. It took her a year to heal. I just... don't want that to happen again."
I blinked at her. "What? She's only thirteen. How has she already fallen for more than one guy? Does she think she lives in a fairy tale or something?"
Amari only shook her head. "She's just that type of person. I don't understand it either. But I want to know... What are you going to do about this?"
"To be honest? Nothing." My voice came out rougher than I intended. I exhaled and rubbed the back of my neck. "It'll take me a long time to answer her feelings. It's not that I think I'll never love her. But my past..." My words slowed as I forced myself to say it straight. "My past doesn't give me much experience with love. The first person I ever truly loved was Stacy-as a mother. Knowing that my only real love so far is a mother's love... it's depressing. But it can't be helped. I don't know how to love anyone else yet. That's why I want to start with family first. Only after that, maybe someday, I'll think about a partner. And that's far in the future."
Amari studied me with a kind of soft patience, then nodded once. "I understand. All I ask is-don't hurt her too much if you reject her."
"I'll try my best."
"Good." She faced forward again, though her jaw was still tight.
I fell silent, my thoughts swirling. Love... how many kinds are there? I know I love Stacy, but that's family. What sort of love is Rachel's? Admiration? Infatuation? Or something deeper? The question gnawed at me.
A sudden tap on my shoulder broke the spiral. I turned, meeting Zagan's effortless smile.
"Don't overthink it," he said warmly. "Take it slow. Rushing won't help. Especially with something like this."
I followed his gaze toward Amari, who now walked with Rachel, deliberately keeping her occupied.
"Hah. "You guys work well together," I said dryly. "Did she tell you to talk to me this time?"
"Yes." He chuckled. "I don't know how much help I can give. Amari and I had it easy with our love life. Yours will be harder. But remember-we're still young. Way too young to be worrying so much about this."
"Huh. That's true." The thought hit harder than I liked. I never really had a childhood in my last life, did I?
I gave him a small smile. "Alright. I'll do that. Enjoy my youth. Sounds... fun."
"That's the spirit," Zagan said, giving my shoulder a friendly tap.
"Guys, we've arrived," Amari called from the front.
I looked ahead. A white building rose before us, pristine against the street's bustle, with a polished sign reading "Scroll." My brow arched at the stark simplicity. Following Amari inside, I was immediately struck by the overwhelming whiteness. Marble floors, walls, even the counters-all blindingly white.
"Why just white?" I muttered.
"Because white screams fancy," came a voice from the side.
Turning, I saw a man in a white suit to match the decor, the word "Scroll" stitched neatly into the lapel.
"I guess you work here," I said flatly.
"Yes, Ma'am. How can I help you today?"
"Don't call me Ma'am." My irritation spiked, and I cut my glare toward Amari, silently prompting her to handle this.
"Hello," Amari said smoothly, "we're here to buy her a new scroll." She pointed at me.
"I see. "This way, miss," the employee said as he began walking toward a counter.
"Also, is it possible to have House Draig's symbol on it?" Amari asked.
"Yes, we can do that," he replied without missing a beat.
—
Two hours later, I stepped back out onto the street with an exasperated sigh. "It took two hours just to get a damn phone. What the hell?"
The scroll in my hand gleamed, as thin as glass and smooth as polished water. Functionally, it operated like any Earth smartphone, though sleeker and more elegant. On the back, etched in silver, was the fresh crest of House Draig.
"It was because they had to make the symbol from scratch," Amari reminded me.
I studied it carefully. A compass lay at the center, with four massive swords pointing in the cardinal directions. Between them, four shorter swords pointed diagonally, and between those, eight daggers filled the smaller spaces, radiating like a deadly starburst.
"They did a fantastic job," I admitted. "But did it really have to take two hours?" With another sigh, I slid the scroll into my inventory and looked back at Amari.
"Well, you have our contacts now. Let's get you some new clothes."
"Yes, please. And no dresses," I said, tugging my scarf higher again.
"We're not picking things out for you. Luna will do that."
"Luna?" I tilted my head.
"She's quite nice," Amari said.
"Yeah. "Yeah, she is nice, especially for girls," Zagan muttered with a depressed expression.
"What happened?" I asked him softly.
All I received was a grunt.
Have some idea about my story? Comment it and let me know.
Yo, It is me again
I have made her love interest but decided to mix it up a lot. I don't want her to fall in love at first sight and get together. That's boring, but it will also not be like 100 chapters before they get together, though it will take some time. In other words, it will be a slow romance but primarily because Kitsuna won't accept her feelings readily.
TheRealSkolliecreators' thoughts
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Chapter 40: Luna is expensive
Luckily we didn't have to walk very long to get to Luna's clothing shop. The streets of the capital were loud and bustling, and I could feel the weight of every stare tugging at me as we moved through the crowd. Stalls and carriages rattled by, the scent of spices and perfume clashing in the air, until finally the carved wooden sign of a boutique came into view. Its painted letters were faded from years of sunlight, but the door was polished, a bell hanging from the handle as if it had been replaced just yesterday.
Following the group into the shop, I sighed as the wave of smell hit me. The powerful aroma of incense, along with the scents of fabric and leather, was thick enough to cling to my throat. It wasn't unpleasant exactly-floral and sweet, with something sharp underneath-but it was heavy, suffocating almost.
"Luna, where are you!" Amari shouted into the store before I could even take a step further in.
"Amari, dear, is that you? I am coming!" A voice sang back. From the back room came a clatter of things tumbling to the ground, rolls of cloth and what sounded like boxes crashing down in a chaotic cascade.
Deja vu prickled across my skin, and I instinctively sidestepped, leaving a clear path away from Amari just in time to avoid the inevitable. With a squeal, a blur of blond hair came flying out of the back room and collided with Amari. They tumbled down together in a mess of limbs and fabric.
Blinking, I looked at the woman sprawled on Amari. She looked so familiar my mouth moved before my brain could stop it.
"Lucy?" I said subconsciously.
The woman froze, her face pressed against Amari's chest, then turned her head toward me with a frown. Her eyes were sharp, narrowed like knives. "Hmm? Who are you?" she demanded.
"Me?" I blinked, startled by how hostile her tone was. "I'm her sister. And you must be Luna... Lucy's twin, I presume." My finger pointed toward Amari, who was still dazed from the impact.
At the sound of that name, the blond woman's lips twitched. Slowly she climbed off Amari, brushing imaginary dust from her skirt as her eyes swept me up and down. "Is that so? I can finally meet Amari's sister, huh." She tilted her head, but then her mouth tightened. "Also, don't say that name in front of me."
Noted. She didn't need to spell out her dislike for her twin-it was written plain in the stiff set of her shoulders.
"Yes, I'm here to get some clothes," I said, deciding not to prod her about it. Better not to drag Lucy into this.
"You seem like a smart one." She smirked suddenly, her mood shifting with dizzying speed. She grabbed my hand before I could react and tugged me toward the back.
I stiffened as she tried to roll up my sleeve. Instinct kicked in, and I pulled away, gripping my scarf tighter. "I'd prefer if you didn't do that just yet," I said, steadying my tone.
Her eyes narrowed in brief confusion before she shrugged, utterly unconcerned. "Fine. You can tell me all about it when I'm busy giving you a makeover." And before I could object further, she latched onto my wrist again and tugged me toward the back of the shop.
"No dresses," I warned quickly, dragging my feet a little but not resisting too much.
"Don't worry, I already know. You're the type who would rather die than wear one," she replied with a grin that showed too many teeth.
"This really does feel like deja vu," I muttered under my breath, though I let her lead me.
"Come sit down." She gestured at a polished wooden chair placed in front of a large mirror with ornate edges. With a soft sigh, I set my scarf aside and shrugged out of my coat, folding it carefully before draping it over the chair. Beneath, my chest was still bandaged tightly, faint traces of curses visible like shadowy veins crawling across my skin.
"Ooh." Her eyes widened in delight, and before I could sit, she had grabbed my arms, tilting them left and right like a child with a new toy. "These are so cool! You should be showing them off more. They'll pull in girls left and right, especially with that lean body of yours."
I raised a brow, impressed despite myself. "You're perceptive."
"Of course," she said with a wink, releasing me just long enough for me to sit.
Internally, I smirked. She may not be as sharp as Mom, but for a shop clerk, she is sharp enough.
"Yeah, I'll never beat Stacy." The words left her lips before she realized what she had said. Her eyes went wide, and she slapped both hands over her mouth, staring at me in the mirror with sudden fear.
"So you can read minds," I murmured, settling more comfortably into the chair. "Good to know."
"You aren't... mad?" She asked cautiously, lowering her hands a fraction.
"Try again," I said, flashing a smile at her reflection.
Her brows pinched, but she closed her eyes, focusing. A second later, her face blanched white, and she jerked back, clutching her head. "Why would you do that!" she shouted, her voice cracking.
I laughed, unable to help myself. "Honestly, I expected you to throw up." I had flooded my thoughts with vivid memories-torture methods I had used in my past life. I had edited those memories, of course, to portray myself as a girl, but the brutality still remained.
