The first bite was enough.
Helastine's expression didn't change, but her grip on the wooden spoon tightened. Slowly, she lowered the bowl.
"You lied."
Nayl gulped.
The curry was awful. Salty enough to make his tongue shrivel, yet somehow also bland, as if Nayl had forgotten to add anything resembling actual flavor. The vegetables were half-raw, the meat chewy like leather.
"I—I can cook!" Nayl protested, though even he winced at his own words. "Just… not this. I thought it'd be easier."
Helastine stared at him.
"You wasted money."
Nayl opened his mouth to argue, then deflated. She was right. The spices hadn't been cheap, and now their coins were literally down the drain, but Helastine had eaten that bowl in one go.
Ulaba was nothing like the dying village they'd left behind.
The streets were clean, lined with lanterns that glowed even in daylight. Shops overflowed with silks, fruits, and trinkets from distant lands. The air smelled of incense and roasted nuts, not damp rot and despair.
Helastine had earned a few coins by helping a merchant unload his wagon—her strength always surprised those who didn't know her. Nayl, meanwhile, had tried to haggle for medical herbs, though his bartering skills were as lacking as his cooking.
Now, they wandered the town, searching for information.
"Maruliya Temple?" A shopkeeper scratched his head. "North, yes. But the roads there are… troubled."
"Troubled how?" Helastine pressed.
The man lowered his voice. "People disappear. Especially at night."
Nayl's fingers twitched.
They are exhausted of wandering around.
Helastine waited atop the bridge, arms crossed, watching the river below. While Nayl was busy buying emergency medical herbs. She didn't trust him to not get swindled again, but she needed a moment alone.
"Beautiful."
A voice, too close.
A young man leaned against the railing beside her, smirking. He was dressed finely, his hair slicked back, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
Helastine ignored him.
He inched closer. "You're not from here, are you? I'd remember a face like—"
She shoved him back without looking.
The man stumbled, laughing, hands raised in mock surrender. "Feisty! I like that." He winked, sauntering away with an exaggerated wave.
Helastine's hand flew to her belt.
Her coin pouch was gone.
Her eyes snapped up—the thief was already weaving through the crowd, glancing back with a grin.
Oh, he was dead.
She leapt after him.
Nayl was returning with the herbs when he saw Helastine sprinting down the street.
Then he saw the man ahead of her, clutching something shiny.
"Oh no."
Nayl took off after them.
Helastine lunged, tackling the thief to the ground with a force that knocked the air from his lungs. She pinned him beneath her, her knife already at his throat before he could blink.
"You are such a bold woman," he wheezed, grinning as he reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear—his fingers lingering just a second too long.
The blade pressed deeper. A thin line of blood welled along his throat.
"Woo~" He didn't even flinch.
Then, in one fluid motion, his hands snapped to her waist, flipping them over until he was on top, straddling her hips with infuriating ease. His smirk widened. "Now this is—"
THUNK.
Nayl's fist collided with the back of his skull.
"Ow! Who the bastard? ruin the mood." the thief groaned, rubbing his head.
Helastine didn't waste the opening. Her knee jerked up, catching him in the ribs as she twisted, yanking his arms behind his back and binding his wrists with the cord she always kept looped around her belt.
A quick pat-down, and her coin pouch was back in her hands.
"What's your name?" the thief asked, still grinning even as she stood over him.
Helastine turned to leave.
A sharp kick to her ankle sent her stumbling backward—right onto him. Their faces were suddenly too close, his breath warm against her lips.
"Stay away from me," she hissed.
"Woo~ Tell me your name, and I'll let you go," he teased, his legs wrapping around her waist to keep her trapped.
In answer, Helastine unsheathed her sword from her back in one smooth motion, the tip hovering just above his nose.
"Oh-ho! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He released her instantly, hands raised in surrender. "But can you at least tell me your na—"
Her glare could have frozen lava.
"Uh-huh. It's okay. See you later~," he chirped, rolling away before she could decide whether to stab him.
By the time Helastine got to her feet, he'd already vanished into the crowd—though his laughter lingered, taunting her.
Nayl reached out, helping Helastine to her feet. "Are you alright? ...Inn?"
She brushed off his hand, scowling. "That bastard took my money." Then paused, eyeing him. "But you're here?"
"Oh, yeah. I was on my way back with the herbs when I saw you running, so I followed you."
"Where are the herbs?"
Nayl blinked, then looked around. The bag was nowhere in sight. "I swear I had it—it was in my hand—"
"Are you an idiot?" Helastine snapped.
"Who are you calling an idiot? You're the idiot!" Nayl shot back, louder than he meant to.
"Oh, really? How?"
The words tumbled out before she realized it—she was arguing. With him. She never argued with anyone before.
Nayl smirked, sensing the shift. "Tell me, how did that thief even get your money? Aren't you supposed to be some unbreakable thing?"
"Unbreakable—?" Her eye twitched. "Well, didn't you fail to do one thing properly, Mister Sad Boy?"
Nayl burst out laughing. He couldn't believe she'd just weaponized his own tragic backstory against him. "Sad boy? Inn, you're too funny."
"Inn? What does that mean?"
He sighed dramatically. "Well, your name is *H-E-L-A-S-T-I-N-E*, which is longer than my life expectancy, so in short—Inn. How's that?"
Helastine froze.
For the first time, someone other than the priest had given her a name. A nickname. Her nickname.
It was irritating.
And yet—
A strange, unwelcome warmth flickered in her chest.
She turned away before he could see her face. "Shut up. We need to search the herbal bag, so look around."
Then suddenly a doubt arose in his mind.
Wait, did the guy steal Nayl 's bag this time?