The town felt smaller with every turn Wads took. He wandered through its narrow streets, his shoes brushing dust off the uneven cobblestones, but no matter how far he walked, nothing of worth caught his eyes. The air carried the faint aroma of grilled food from vendors, mingled with the smell of wet stone after an earlier drizzle. Nothing—no clue, no trail. Just noise.
He sighed, pushing his glasses higher onto the bridge of his nose. His gaze shifted idly until it landed on a small store tucked between two tall stone buildings. Its wooden sign swung slightly in the breeze, painted faintly with the symbol of a vial. A potion shop.
Curiosity pulled him forward.
The moment he pushed the door open, the sharp scent of chemicals clung to him, nearly burning his nose. Dozens of bottles lined the shelves—some glowing faintly, some bubbling quietly, others sealed so tightly their liquid swirled like captured storms. The room was alive with different scents: sharp citrus, acrid smoke, and even sweetness too sugary to be pleasant. The mixture was overwhelming, as though the air itself had become a potion.
Wads stepped further in, his eyes narrowing as he tried to distinguish the notes. Healing salves. Poison drafts. Enhancements. He cataloged them quickly in his head.
"Are you looking for something, sir?"
The voice was gentle but curious. He turned his head to see a woman behind the desk—a young woman with messy green hair tied into a loose bun, glasses slipping down her nose, and a white alchemist's coat dusted faintly with powder. She was already watching him.
He paused, calculating, then offered a polite nod. "Do you have any healing potion?"
"We do," she answered without hesitation. She turned to the shelves behind her, her hands moving with practiced ease as she scanned the labels.
Wads' eyes, however, were not on the potions. He watched her hand's path, the way she moved. Then, almost carelessly, he spoke in the soft tone of someone asking out of idle curiosity:
"The dam here… isn't the flow too fast?"
Her head tilted, and she chuckled lightly as though amused by his observation. "Yes, it is! Mainly because of Lord Kreivel's magic."
At that name, Wads' brow rose, though his face returned to its usual calm by the time she turned back with three bottles in hand.
"Lord Kreivel's magic?" Wads leaned slightly, studying the bottles she placed neatly before him. He picked one up, tilting it to watch the liquid shimmer.
"Yes. I think it was four months ago? The dam had no water at all because of the forest—the trees drained it dry," she explained, adjusting her glasses as she watched him.
"Oh… that forest. Creepy place." Wads smiled faintly, his lips and even his eyes curling just slightly, enough to make it feel genuine. "Don't you think so?"
The girl froze for a moment under his gaze. A blush rose to her cheeks, and she stumbled slightly over her reply. "Y-yes… it's dangerous out there."
Her voice had softened. She didn't look away from his face.
"So… Lord Kreivel's magic is tied to water," Wads murmured, as if repeating for himself, though his eyes met hers briefly.
She nodded, slower this time. "That's right."
"I'll take all three." Wads' tone shifted back to neutral, handing her the bottles. She seemed caught off guard by how quickly he ended the moment, fumbling slightly before packing them carefully.
"That'll be nine silver coins."
He placed the payment without hesitation, offered her a short nod, and left, the bell above the door chiming behind him.
Outside, he stood still for a moment, staring at the cobblestones beneath his shoes. Four months. That was the same time Mikael mentioned—the start of the shipments, the strange group that appeared. The dots were aligning now, every piece threading into the larger pattern. His mind raced with possibilities.
"Is the ground really that worth looking at, Waxzi?"
The familiar voice jolted him from his thoughts. His head snapped up to find Reiyell standing there, dressed in light casual clothing that swayed faintly in the breeze.
His lips parted. "I was—"
"Thinking," she cut him off, a small curve at her lips. "I know. Are you free right now?"
He tilted his head slightly before nodding once.
"Good." Her hand slid smoothly around his arm, her grip firm yet gentle, fingers lacing between his sleeve.
"Your High—Rei?" His eyes widened, startled by the intimacy.
"Just follow me." She smiled softly, eyes glowing like sunlight caught in crystal.
With no other choice, he obeyed.
The pair walked into a parlor, a bright, refined boutique. The moment they entered, the staff greeted them with warm smiles.
"What a lovely couple!" one saleslady chirped.
Wads' brow rose slightly at the remark, but when he turned to Reiyell, she only smiled with her lips and eyes, not denying it. He had no idea how to react, only feeling the strange heat creeping up his neck.
They sat on a velvet couch, the scent of tea and fresh linen filling the air. Another attendant approached, bowing slightly.
"What may I assist you with today, my lady?"
Reiyell's voice was calm, smooth as glass. "Bring me the finest dresses you can offer. Different styles, different colors."
The woman bowed again before rushing off.
Wads leaned slightly closer, his voice low. "What is this?"
Reiyell turned her head toward him, her smile faint but steady. "Just wait. Act with me for now." She reached for the teacup on the table, sipping without breaking her calm expression.
He frowned, brows twitching faintly, then leaned back, saying nothing more.
When the dresses arrived, the staff presented them with a flourish. Gowns of flowing silk, shimmering satin, and soft velvet in shades of deep crimson, pale ivory, midnight blue, and emerald green. Gold-thread embroidery caught the light, jeweled clasps sparkled at the waists, and lacework so delicate it looked like frost framed the hems. Each dress was draped across a mannequin, then displayed in turn with practiced grace.
Reiyell rested her hands lightly on her crossed leg, eyes sharp. "Show me," she commanded.
The saleslady obeyed, presenting each gown one by one.
At the fourth, a deep sapphire blue trimmed with silver, Reiyell tilted her head toward Wads. "What do you think, darling?" Her voice was casual, but her eyes were testing him.
For a moment, Wads completely blanked. His mind froze. His mouth opened, closed, opened again. "…I—"
Reiyell raised a brow. "Hmm?"
"I think…" He coughed lightly into his fist, ears reddening as he glanced away. "It'll all look good on you."
Reiyell's lips curved. A soft chuckle escaped her, almost hidden, before she looked back to the saleslady. "I'll take them all."
The woman blinked at the sudden decision, then nodded, rushing to prepare the order.
Wads, on the other hand, had to control his breathing. He leaned subtly closer, his voice hushed. "Your Highness, seriously, what is it you're plan—"
Before he could finish, Reiyell slipped a half-bitten cookie between his lips, silencing him.
His eyes widened, shocked.
The bell above the shop rang, and footsteps echoed across the polished floor. A tall figure stepped inside. Long black hair, piercing blue eyes, and a presence that weighed down the room.
"Lord Kreivel, good afternoon."
The shopkeeper's voice rang, and Wads froze at the name.
Reiyell's hand stayed against his mouth, finger brushing against his lips. "Don't stare at him," she whispered, her indicolite eyes boring into his, holding his gaze as though she could command his heartbeat.
Wads swallowed the cookie, his breath shaky. The weight of Kreivel's aura seeped into him even without looking, a crushing intensity that made his chest tighten.
"His magic…" she murmured, softer now, only for him. "Diety. Intense." Her finger traced faintly along his lips to his cheek, a gesture that made his skin burn.
He nodded, gaze locked with hers, not daring to glance at Kreivel.
But he could feel it. The aura. Heavy, suffocating, pressing through the walls of the room. Kreivel's magic radiated like the weight of the ocean, and Wads knew even without looking—he had glanced at them.
Reiyell's finger lingered just long enough for his breath to falter again. Then she pulled back slowly, just as the shopkeeper led Kreivel into the VIP section and closed the door.
Wads finally exhaled, raggedly.
"We'll talk later," Reiyell said lightly, sipping her tea again as though nothing had happened.
The dresses returned, neatly packed, and Wads placed his palm against his lips, struggling to process. His mind turned toward Kreivel—the power, the timing, the danger, a threat, one they would need to watch. But another thought lingered stubbornly in his chest, one he couldn't ignore.
Whose heartbeat had raced faster in that moment—hers, or his?