Ishmere shucked the tattered backpack from Rennia's shoulder like it was dead weight. She dug her hands into it and casually pulled out a large stack of gold coins, wrapped them in a small piece of cloth, and stuffed the bundle into Rennia's hand.
"Here you go."
"What's this?" Rennia asked, feeling uneasy as she held the money separately from its original container.
"Do what you think you need to. You said you wanted to stop at the guild, didn't you? I just realized I have an old friend I need to speak to. I've got someone I need to strangle, depending on how they greet me."
Or fuck, knowing how perverted she was.
Rennia wrapped the money around her belt, then gave the immortal one long, hard stare. Was it okay to just let her go on her own? Hell, was it okay for herself to wander into this strange city? Sure, she could ask for directions, but she was the clueless one and Ishmere was vulnerable.
Two birds with one stone, except they were both being thrown.
"Don't give me that look. Everything will work out. Just meet me in the plaza in a few hours—maybe two or three—and then I'll make sure to hire a cart driver to haul our loot back."
What loot? They hadn't gotten that part yet.
Rennia gave her a withering look, pocketed the money, put her hands on her hips, and scowled at her teacher. Ishmere jabbed at her stomach. "Don't worry. When we're done here, I'll make sure to give you proper attention."
"Implying what exactly?"
Ishmere turned without another word and skidded down the street, running with pristine speed toward wherever the hell—or probably running away from Rennia. Rennia broke into a sigh. At least she could hear her own thoughts for a second or two. She needed to get her head away from the hedonism.
She turned the pouch over in her hands. It contained about 900 gold coins—very large coins indeed. It was more than she'd made in a month back home. She needed to let that life go, but she just couldn't. It was her history, her life. And if she needed to carve a future for herself—and no one else—she'd need a clear head.
She started moving through the bustling city. Walking on the symmetrical cobblestone did something to her mind. Back home, everything had been jagged and uneven, patched together. Barely functioning, but very replaceable. This place was different. She wagered that breaking something here would have severe consequences. The noise too was something to behold—it sounded like a choir clearing their throats ad infinitum. But the smell... the smell was absolutely putrid. One thing was clear: city folk weren't sanitary.
She plucked at the gambeson with her hands. This really wasn't what a girl should wear in a public space like this. Some street kids had given her looks. Boys would be boys, she supposed. No, what a stupid thought.
She needed to get to the guild straightaway, except she didn't know where that was. This wasn't her city, and she hoped the guild would be respectful of her identity. Of course, not every guild functioned under the same entity. She'd probably start as a low-ranked member, just because of her levels.
Oh well.
But what if word had spread? What if they knew what had happened? What if they judged her for it? What if the guild housed in Kibblestadt had spread it all over the kingdom? And what if the kingdom's rumors had spread across the border? She couldn't...
Half absent-minded, half in deep thought, she passed a tailor shop. High-cut dresses and fashionable footwear were displayed in the window. She stopped to stare at them, then imagined herself in that dress—respected, clean, probably wanted by someone. Wanted with all her extra bits.
If she could have chosen a different profession, what would she be? She probably wouldn't have obtained this curse.
No.
The price tag took her out of her maladaptive daydream. She shook her head. She needed to think about gear—adventuring gear. Potions and disposable poison, a new sword perhaps. She needed to fucking kill something to work off this stress.
She had come here to be "handled." She had ended up being someone's plaything. She didn't know if Ishmere saw her as a doll or an adventurer—definitely someone she'd swindled into bringing her back from the verge of death. A tool. A sucker. Rennia hated that; she wasn't some loser.
But she planned on staying, because Ishmere needed her, and she needed Ishmere. The sexual hunger, at least, could be contained.
The noise of the market jostled her out of her thoughts. The market grew louder, and the voices crowded together. She spotted a table splayed out next to a butcher's stall. The merchant eyed her warily but put on a fake smile—an economic smile, but one both could respect. She bought a few trinkets: a new belt with more pouches, a potion ocean blue and sluggish. A mana potion.
She gave the man a nod and walked away. If she stayed in the market area, her gold would disappear faster than she'd laid eyes on it, what with these urchins about.
She started half-jogging away. Moving through the dense crowd was a hassle. A cut through a side street and she was free of intermittent traffic, but even the side street was full of folk passing by and even shadier folk stalking in the darkness.
Speeding up, she took a misdirection and collided with someone.
"Guh—!"
A girl fell in front of her—hooded, her eyes of two different colors, and a devilish horn protruding. She looked up at her, frowning. A familiar face, all too familiar. How many devil-lings did she know with blue and gold eyes? Very few. One at best.
One in the wrong place, one that could've been dead.
"Rennia? Rennia Perillion?"
Rennia froze in her tracks. An influx of weight started clawing at her heart. She stumbled backward. This person—was she someone she knew, someone she hadn't seen since her childhood?
"Cas... Cassandra?"
They stared at each other for a while. A half-devil girl called Cassandra. She was an exile, one of the few Rennia had witnessed leave, and she knew her personally—too closely. They were both exiles now, she guessed, but she wanted to leave immediately. Rennia was at a precipice.
Before Cas could utter another word, a disturbance in the alleyway drew their attention away from each other. A clatter and crash of pots on the ground, a man shouting at a waif, and a guard moving too close.
Rennia's heart jumped, and her feet took flight. She started running through the twisted alleyway, past the strange people. But she could hear her name being called out as she fled from the pariah behind her.
"Rennia! Wait!"
She didn't look back. She didn't stop until she'd crossed a second block, then forced her way into a crowd, huffing for air, hands on her knees. She looked down at the cobblestone road. A nasty memory hung at the back of her mind—just images of blood, ritual, and fire. A very, very angry face of her mother. The clerics, the church, the adults, and Cas—poor Cas, bloodied and bruised—and herself, cursed by her magic. The full picture was there, but recalling all of it... it hurt.
She was here? In this city? More unwelcome reminders of punished pasts.
"What the fuck is wrong with me?" She could fight giant spiders, take orders from a half-immortal sex nymph, but she couldn't face someone from her past. Ever since her transformation, she'd been losing touch with herself, with her identity. Before all this, before Ishmere, she had been a person.
And she had to be one again. She needed friends, her own ambitions, direction.
It was best she let bygones be what they were. There was no need to interact with the devil-ling; she had things to do.
She lifted her head and spotted a building at the end of the street. An all too familiar sign hung over it—a universal symbol of freedom and adventure. The adventurer's guild.
Gold spilled from her pouch as she clutched it—useless without purpose.
"I need to make my own choices."