Hajin stood before the cracked mirror in their inn room and pulled at the collar of the silk shirt they had bought that afternoon.
The charcoal-gray fabric looked far better than his dirt-stained adventurer gear. It also pinched across his shoulders whenever he tried to lift his arms.
"I hate this," he muttered.
"How do people breathe in these things?" Hajin asked.
'The Gate was more comfortable than this collar.'
Beside him, Juna fought a darker enemy.
Her formal dress was deep blue, fitted through the waist, and tailored with a narrow opening for her tail. The fabric suited her silver hair, though its stiff shoulders turned every movement into an argument.
Juna reached behind herself and scratched between her shoulder blades.
"Master," she said.
"These clothes... they are very itchy," Juna said, twisting to inspect the back of the dress.
"Why do humans wear things that bite back?" she asked.
Hajin looked at her and laughed before he could stop himself.
