After her explanation, he began unbuttoning his shirt—only to feel her gaze. He turned to find her staring with twinkling eyes, not just out of curiosity, but with an odd intensity. Though her staring wasn't inappropriate, it prompted a quiet question in his mind: why was she watching so intently? Perhaps she was simply accustomed to seeing customers change before her.
Still, he felt the need to ask for a bit of privacy. As soon as he did, she jolted, as if suddenly awakened from a trance. Her cheeks flushed, and she turned around quickly, covering her eyes dramatically with her hands, saying in a flustered, childlike voice,
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"
Ace smiled and, without saying another word, changed into the new clothes. After placing something into his small bag, he told her he was ready. She turned eagerly, her eyes scanning him from head to toe. When her inspection was complete, she lifted her chin proudly and said with a confident smile,
"They fit you perfectly!"
Her tone carried more than just praise—it was a subtle affirmation of her unfailing intuition. He then handed her his torn clothes. She accepted them as though receiving something precious, studying them carefully, as if imprinting their details in her memory. She placed them into a drawer, locked it with a small key from her pocket, as though protecting them from being lost or stolen.
Ace watched her silently, wondering if she saw more in his clothes than just fabric. As she straightened up, she noticed the small bottle in his hand—a clear container filled with crystal-like liquid. Curious, she stepped closer and asked,
"Excuse me… but what's that?"
Lowering the bottle to her eye level, Ace smiled and answered,
"It's just a bottle of water."
Hearing that, she placed a finger near her lips, tilting her head thoughtfully. Though her face showed no signs of thirst, her eyes told another story—a thirst not of the body, but of curiosity, a hunger for experience. Ace studied her expression, then extended the bottle and asked,
"Would you like to try it?"
She stepped back, fingers intertwined, and asked cautiously,
"R-Really? I can?"
He smiled and warned her not to expect too much—after all, water was still just water. She took the bottle carefully, as though holding something fragile. Feeling the smooth plastic, unfamiliar to her, she pressed it gently, the soft crackle signaling its fragility.
She raised it to her lips and took a tiny sip—just enough to wet her tongue. Immediately, her eyes widened in awe. She stared at the bottle in amazement and exclaimed,
"Pure!"
She turned to Ace and added,
"I've never tasted water this clean before!"
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued, and asked,
"What do you mean?"
She didn't answer at first. Instead, she returned the bottle, then walked to a corner of the shop where a large wooden barrel stood with a small spout. She filled a wooden cup and brought it to him, saying with slightly less enthusiasm,
"I was going to offer you some water, but now… I feel embarrassed by how plain it is compared to yours."
Ace looked at the cup, then back at her. There was an unspoken apology in her expression—as if she realized that what was normal to her might not be so for others. He smiled but said nothing, taking the cup and sipping slowly. The water tasted metallic, raw—like old water. It wasn't icy, nor tepid, but carried the room's warmth. He finished it in one go and commented,
"The alkalinity of this water is a bit high, so it has a slightly different taste."
She tilted her head, curious, and repeated softly,
"Alkalinity?"
Ace realized the explanation might be too complex, so he waved it off and said,
"Don't worry about it. It's not that important." Then, shifting his tone, he asked,
"Shall we go on that tour now?"
She tilted her head playfully and replied in a soft voice,
"What's the rush? Why don't we sit and have a snack first?"
Her tone was gentle, filled with kindness. Ace looked at her for a few moments, his eyes shimmering with something deeper than impatience. He thanked her quietly, his voice tinged with both appreciation and hesitation,
"Thank you for your hospitality, but I…"
He paused, as if words had failed him midway. A trace of discomfort passed across his face—subtle, but noticeable to one with a keen eye. He tried to suppress the emotions leaking through his expression, pressing his lips together as if to keep something buried inside. Yet Emilia, with surprising perception, caught that fleeting moment in its entirety. He finally whispered,
"I'm kind of… in a hurry."
The little girl slowly closed her eyelids, again and again, her thick lashes moving in harmony. She was trying to understand, to analyze, to interpret that deep look that had momentarily appeared on his face. But she quickly withdrew from her contemplation—she understood, with the silent wisdom of those who have matured, that behind every urgency lies a story, behind every fleeting glance hides a concealed concern, and behind every polite apology, there's an untold struggle.
At that moment, Emilia tilted her head once more, and a small smile formed on her face—a smile that carried a hint of understanding, neither forced nor insincere. Then she said in a soft voice, tinged with a tone of reconciliation:
"Alright, as you wish. Let's go."
2
As they stepped outside, Emilia walked ahead and pointed forward into the distance. She took a deep breath before exclaiming enthusiastically:
"Our destination will be the town's main market, where the spirit of our town is best reflected—all in one place."
After Ace nodded to her, she began walking in front of him, her steps lively like a child who knows every corner of her hometown and wants to proudly show off all its wonders. He followed her quietly, his eyes scanning the road they were taking—a street lined with shops and homes, not bustling with noise but wrapped in a comforting calm.
However, as they advanced, sounds began to rise in the distance—not chaotic, but a harmonious blend of calls and shouts, growing denser bit by bit until they reached a wide street that housed the grand market. The moment they stepped in, they were enveloped by the roar of life. Shops stood side by side—some small and modest, others with large glass fronts displaying a wide variety of goods.
Along the sidewalks, numerous tables were neatly arranged, leaving enough space for pedestrians to walk comfortably. The sounds were like a storm—not disordered, but a balanced symphony of voices. The market spoke its own language. Vendors called out their wares in different dialects—some raised their voices with confidence, while others whispered enticingly to attract buyers. Bargaining voices rose here and there, followed by scattered laughs or irritated objections from customers unhappy with the offers or prices. All of this blended with the sounds of carts passing by, their wheels squeaking and adding a distinct tone to the market's melody.
The people's clothing was simple in design, practical enough for ease of movement among the crowd. Ace found himself comparing their outfits to the refined designs he had seen in the small boutique earlier. The contrast was stark—most wore plain robes or humble clothes. Yet, what struck him more than this disparity was not the clothing, but the faces—features so well-proportioned that beauty seemed to be the norm rather than the exception.
Amid the usual human appearances, something different caught his eye—something he wasn't accustomed to seeing on his own planet. He noticed individuals with distinctly animalistic traits, far more prominent than those he had seen in the queue earlier. They moved seamlessly among the crowd, as if their presence were entirely ordinary and unremarkable.
With a quick assessment, he realized they were a small minority compared to the humans around. He tried to appear natural as he observed them, controlling his facial expressions while examining their features, avoiding direct, intrusive stares. These individuals had clearly visible animal ears, short fluffy tails, and longer ones that fluttered with every step. Some had prominent noses or bodies covered in soft fur, while others had more complete coats of hair. Some embraced these traits fully, while others bore only subtle differences.
As he looked around, a young girl drew his attention. At first glance, she appeared entirely human, but she had long ears resembling a rabbit's that twitched constantly atop her head, picking up even the faintest sounds. She was speaking with a large man who had fully embraced his animal form—his body covered in thick black fur, with twisted horns protruding from his head, resembling a bull. Ace also noticed another man, more elegant in appearance, dressed in a black suit. He had a bushy tail that swayed with each step, as if choreographed with his movements. His face was sharply defined, with narrow eyes and furry pointed ears that added to his striking look.