"Boss, long time no see."
At the fruit stand, Shichen waved his free hand and greeted the store owner.
"It's you again—what are you…!"
The bored shopkeeper glanced up to grumble, but the words stuck in his throat as soon as he saw Emilia's hand in Shichen's. On his scarred, intimidating face, shock and fear flickered.
"She… she's—"
"Hey, hey, don't blank on it now. She's the one who saved your daughter."
"Eh—!" The owner looked incredulous.
"Was she… like this before?" he asked, unsure.
"What, you don't want to acknowledge your daughter's savior anymore?"
"How could I!"
He denied it immediately, then stared at Emilia, torn. "But, she…"
"Boss," Shichen said seriously, "trust what you see, not rumors you've never witnessed."
"I… you… you're right," the owner hesitated a long moment, then sighed.
"Sorry, sir," Emilia finally spoke up and apologized to him.
"No, don't you apologize to me—I should apologize to you," the owner said, shaking his head. "Ugh."
"You really are a doting dad," Shichen teased.
"Never thought I'd end up judging by appearances. And I hate people who do that…" The owner raked his fingers through his hair, frustrated with himself.
He knew his looks scared people off—that was why his fruit stand had so few customers. Who strolls into a killer-faced man's stall to buy apples when there are plenty of others?
And because of that, he'd grown to resent those wary looks—only to turn around and do the same to Emilia at first glance. Silver-haired half-elf was a glaring label, and the infamous legend that came with it… everyone knew it.
They'd passed plenty of fearful faces on the way. If the boss managed to check himself, it was probably because Emilia had saved his daughter. Most people at the bottom had little will or discernment of their own; they just followed the crowd. That's the way of a stratified society.
"We don't blame you," said Shichen. "The fact you caught yourself already puts you ahead of most."
"Sigh." He could only sigh, embarrassed to face Emilia.
"Boss, bag us some apples. We've got something big to do."
"Something big? Does it have to do with my apples?"
"No, nothing to do with them."
"…Then you?"
"Just dropping by to say hi and see how you'd react."
"You two are… fine, whatever."
With the apples bought, Shichen led Emilia toward the main street.
"The boss is nicer than he looks—he even tossed in two extra," Shichen said, going to take a bite and noticing the count.
"He is pretty nice," Emilia agreed.
"Yup. Mouth open—ah~." Shichen tapped an apple to her lips.
Emilia hadn't planned to eat, but the fruit was already at her mouth; she had to take a bite. It was crisp and juicy and sweet. A shame the owner's face doomed his business.
Shichen pulled out a second apple and bit into it, walking on with Emilia at his side and ignoring the stares that followed.
The street felt different from when they'd come from the border for the royal selection. The crowd was just as thick, but the hum was… focused. People bunched up in one place and didn't move for a long while.
Even without trying, Shichen could hear it—everyone was talking about the royal selection.
A big public noticeboard stood off the main road, and a dense ring of people clustered around it, reading the announcement and chattering—men and women, old and young.
Who became king was "above their pay grade," but anyone would care about the nation's future monarch. The king had often felt like ornament—so long as the Council of Sages sat, the country ran—but the covenant with the Divine Dragon was handed down by the royal line. That was common sense here.
It was that covenant that let Lugunica keep its long conflict with southern Vollachia to small skirmishes. This world had four major powers: Gusteko in the north, Lugunica in the east, Kararagi in the west, and Vollachia in the south. Under them sat smaller states, all vassals of one of the four.
The board summarized the start of the selection and named the five candidates. Which meant the public now knew Emilia was a silver-haired half-elf.
Yet at the moment, the talk wasn't about Emilia at all. People were debating Crusch and Anastasia. Those two had the highest public favor—Crusch as the Karsten duchess, Anastasia as the Hoshin Company president.
In the capital, everyone knew the duchess, and her deeds had earned high praise: so young, already head of house; a rare genius in the nation's history. Her first campaign in her own lands—against a stubborn mabeast—was a triumph and the reason she inherited the title.
Before that, outsiders had sneered that a noble lady shouldn't swing a sword. It was her achievements that changed that tune; Crusch herself still minded the double standard.
Anastasia's fame came from her meteoric rise; every merchant knew her name. A young chairwoman who toppled a major company and absorbed it—like a living Hoshin legend.
If a merchant became king, the drama alone would delight the public. Still, between the two, Crusch's support ran higher; she was local, Anastasia a foreigner.
Compared to those two, the other three were almost unknown. Many didn't recognize Priscilla at all, only guessing she was a noble. Felt and Emilia, with no family names, fared worse—how had they become candidates? The public didn't know the dragon insignias chose them.
As for the insignia's criteria… who knew? Shichen only suspected the Divine Dragon had a soft spot for pretty girls. All five were strikingly beautiful—even if Priscilla was a widow, she claimed she'd never been touched.
"…By the way, why's there a half-elf among the candidates? Are the officials insane?" someone said suddenly, voice thick with disgust. Others chimed in.
"That half-elf 'Emilia'—how is she a candidate?"
"What are the bigwigs thinking?"
Emilia's hand tightened in Shichen's.
She still minded.
"Emilia," Shichen said softly.
"Shichen… I'm fine," she said with a forced smile, shaking her head.
"I know you better than that."
He smiled wryly and led her to the front of the crowd.
"Eh? Shichen, you—?"
"Everyone—over here." He raised his voice, drawing their attention.
"That's…"
"A half-elf…"
"Half—"
"All right. Silence."
Before anyone could spit the slur, Shichen cut their voices off. And with it, he fixed the space itself—no one could leave.
~~~
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