Zen checked himself and let out a quiet breath. He needed a quick shower—his body was slick with sweat from exertion.
He stripped off his clothes and stepped into the small bathroom, turning the shower knob without much thought.
Cold water crashed down on him.
"Hah—!"
He shuddered violently, shoulders tensing as the sudden chill bit into his skin. A sharp breath escaped his lips as he instinctively jumped back, pressing himself against the tiled wall.
"Tch… cold, so cold," he muttered through clenched teeth.
After a few seconds, he forced himself to endure it, standing still as the icy stream washed away the sweat and fatigue. Gradually, his breathing steadied, and the shock faded into a dull numbness.
The water poured over him, carrying away the remnants of exhaustion—leaving his mind clearer than before.
Red's voice echoed calmly in his mind.
"…Pathetic."
A brief pause.
"To think the same body that endured mana refinement and slaughtered a Tempest Wolf is defeated by cold water."
Zen shivered again.
Red continued, merciless and dry.
"Host, if this shower were an enemy, you would already be dead."Zen sucked in a sharp breath, teeth chattering.
"Shut up," he muttered, hugging himself under the freezing stream. "I'm acclimating."
He straightened his back stubbornly. "This emperor does not fear cold. The cold fears me."
A pause.
"…Just give it a minute."
"Yes, yes. Excuses," he drawled. "Should this benevolent system provide motivation as well? Just say the word, host. I can preach something truly inspirational."
Zen hissed as another wave of cold water struck his skin. "Keep your preaching to yourself."
"Oh?" Red chuckled. "But I'm very good at it. I could remind you how weak you were before. Or how many times you almost died. Very motivating."
Zen's voice hardened. "Keep your motivation to yourself. I've heard enough of it while I was dying in my last life."
He exhaled slowly, water running down his face.
"So spare me your motivational lectures."
They both fell silent. Only the sound of water droplets striking the floor echoed in the bathroom.
Zen turned off the shower, dried himself, and checked his clothes before putting them on.
"Host," Red said casually, "I think you should buy some new clothes. You have money now, after all."
There was a faint hint of disdain in his tone.
"You're supposed to look like an emperor. How will people react if you walk around dressed like that?"
Zen scoffed. "You think I care about people's opinions?"
He fastened the last strap and straightened up.
"…But since you asked," he added calmly, "I'll buy them."
Zen stepped forward, resolve clear in his eyes.
"Our first stop—new clothes."
They stepped out of the inn after Zen informed the owner that he would be leaving.
He moved through the streets at an unhurried pace, eyes scanning the surroundings as he searched for a clothing shop that suited his taste.
He wasn't looking for anything flashy—just something practical, comfortable… and worthy enough that Red wouldn't start nagging him again.
He found a shop that felt just right—simple, quiet, without any flashy decorations screaming for attention.
Zen pushed the door open.
Ding. Ding.
The small bell above chimed softly, announcing the arrival of a customer.
An old lady stepped forward to greet him, somewhere in her mid-fifties.
"Welcome, my dear customer," she said warmly.
Her voice was gentle, her smile easy—one of those cheerfully calm expressions that made the shop feel less like a business and more like a home.
"I would like to buy some clothes," Zen said. "Not overly stylish… just something comfortable."
"Of course, my dear," the lady replied with a warm smile. "Follow me, please."
Zen followed her as she led him through the shop. He ran his hands over different fabrics—smooth, soft, and comfortable.
The shopkeeper's eyes lit up as she pulled a sleek, dark outfit from the rack. "Ah, this one, sir. Simple, yet commanding. Comfortable, too—perfect for someone who needs to move freely."
She held up a black shirt, matching overcoat, and trousers, letting the fabric fall naturally. "See? All black. Practical, elegant, and not flashy. Boots included—they're sturdy, will carry you far without complaint."
Zen ran his fingers over the smooth fabric. "Not overly stylish… comfortable…"
"Exactly," she said with a smile. "A good balance between presence and ease. You'll feel like yourself, but sharper. Shall we try it on?"
Zen nodded, already imagining how the dark ensemble would suit him.
Zen nodded and followed the shopkeeper to a small, neat fitting room at the back of the shop. The black shirt, overcoat, and trousers were laid out neatly, the boots polished and waiting.
He stepped inside, the soft click of the door echoing slightly in the quiet space. One by one, he slipped into the pieces, adjusting the fit as he went. The black shirt clung comfortably without restricting movement. The trousers were light but sturdy, and the overcoat draped perfectly over his shoulders, giving him a commanding silhouette. Finally, he laced the boots tightly, feeling the solid support underfoot.
When he stepped out, the shopkeeper's eyes widened slightly. "See? You carry it well, sir. Sleek, practical, yet it demands attention without saying a word."
Zen turned slowly, testing the movement. The outfit felt right—dark, quiet, but powerful. A subtle grin tugged at his lips. "This… works," he said. "I'll take it."
Zen examined the display thoughtfully. "Could you show me something that doesn't draw too much attention?" he asked. "Maybe a black shirt, black pants, and boots—something simple but comfortable."
The shopkeeper nodded cheerfully. "Of course, sir. I have just the set in mind." She led him to a section tucked slightly away, where the fabrics were soft and muted, yet clearly of good quality.
Zen picked up the outfit, feeling the smoothness of the fabric and the weight of the boots. "Perfect," he murmured, already imagining how it would feel to move freely in it.
After selecting his clothes, Zen bought a few other necessary items he might need for traveling and training. He paid the bill, the coins clinking softly as the shopkeeper counted them with a smile.
Stepping out of the shop, he adjusted the black shirt and pants he had chosen. The outfit was simple, comfortable, and easy to move in—perfect for both blending into crowds and handling whatever challenges lay ahead. The boots fit snugly, giving him solid footing on the cobblestones.
Zen took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the new attire settle over him. "Alright," he muttered to himself, "time to move forward."