I had been destructed by Emily for a moment. But as we are walking through the street, I let my eyes wander, and I can't help but notice that the city is even more dazzling up close than I imagined.
As Emily leads me through the busy streets of Elaris, I can barely take two steps without being distracted by something new. On one side, a clown in a deep-blue cloak is juggling glowing orbs of light for a small crowd of cheering children. On the other, a street vendor flips sizzling meat skewers over an open flame, the smell rich and mouthwatering. The entire city hums with energy, like it's alive and breathing.
Unfortunately, I'm also starting to realize that so is the attention.
Because everyone—and I mean everyone—is staring at me.
At first, I thought I was just imagining it. But no, as we make our way through the winding streets, I can feel eyes following me wherever I go. People glance my way, whisper, then glance again. A few ladies even stop mid-conversation, wave at me and then giggle in what a way that they would have thought was seductive. More than a few of them threw some rather crude comments at me, their words trailing off as I walk past.
I pretend not to notice, but it's hard to ignore when a group of girls near a fruit stall giggle and wave shyly. One of them even drops her apple.
Yeah, I guess having a face sculpted by divine mistake comes with downsides.
I sigh inwardly. Maybe having looks that are to die for isn't all good after all. I used to think being handsome would make life easier—but right now, it feels more like walking around with a glowing "LOOK AT ME" sign taped to my forehead.
Emily, for her part, keeps glancing over her shoulder to make sure I'm still following. She's walking a little faster than before, and her ears are slightly red. I don't blame her; we're attracting enough attention to start rumors before lunch.
After what feels like forever weaving through market stalls, narrow alleys, and small bridges arching over clean streams, we finally reach a quieter street. The noise fades into the background.
We stop in front of a modest two-story building with a wooden sign swinging gently above the door. The words The Silver Lantern are carved neatly across it, painted silver and framed by curling vines.
Compared to the grandeur outside, the inn looks plain—but in a comforting way. Its walls are freshly scrubbed, the windows clean, flower pots resting on each sill. A warm light spills from inside, and I catch the faint scent of baked bread drifting through the doorway.
"This is the place," Emily says softly, turning to me. "It's not fancy, but it's clean. The food's good too."
"It looks great," I reply sincerely.
She pushes open the door, and a small brass bell chimes overhead as we step inside.
The interior is cozy—wooden floors, polished tables, and a large hearth crackling at the far end of the room. There are a few patrons scattered about, chatting quietly over late lunches. Behind the counter stands a young woman, about the same age as Emily, slightly older, wiping a mug with a clean cloth.
When she looks up and sees us, her face lights up.
"Emily!" she squeals, practically dropping the mug before rushing around the counter. She throws her arms around Emily with a delighted laugh.
Caught off guard, Emily stumbles a little before hugging her back. "Beatrice! It's been a while!"
Ah. So that's Beatrice. The owner, I'm guessing.
I fold my arms and wait patiently, watching the reunion with a small smile. They chatter for a bit, laughing and catching up like old friends who haven't seen each other in ages.
Then Emily remembers me. She turns, slightly flustered, and gestures in my direction. "Oh—Bea, this is Ash. He's, um… a traveler I met on the way here. I brought him along as a customer."
Beatrice follows her gesture—and the moment her eyes land on me, they widen.
"Oh my," she says, her lips curving into a teasing grin. "He's quite the looker, isn't he?"
I blink, unsure how to respond, as she lets out a playful giggle, her hand flying to cover her mouth. Then she turns to Emily with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Tell me, dear—is this your man?"
Emily practically explodes. "Wha—no! No, no, no! I barely know him! We just traveled together!"
The few customers nearby glance over at the sudden outburst.
I suddenly have the very strong urge to hide my face in a ditch somewhere.
I can feel the heat creeping up my own neck, but I force myself to maintain a calm, polite smile. "It's nice to meet you, Miss Beatrice," I say evenly, offering my hand.
She grins wider, clearly enjoying herself. "Beatrice is fine, dear. And thank you for choosing to stay at my humble inn—though I suppose I should really be thanking Emily for dragging you in against your will."
Emily lets out a small, indignant grunt and crosses her arms. "I didn't drag him! I was just helping."
I chuckle softly. "No, really. Emily helped me find a good place to stay. The city's a bit overwhelming for newcomers."
That earns me a faint smile from her, the blush still lingering on her cheeks.
Beatrice giggles again and waves us both toward the counter. "Well then, welcome to The Silver Lantern. Let's get you settled in before poor Emily dies of embarrassment."
She slips behind the counter, her tone shifting from teasing to business like professionalism. "Now, rooms with meals are twenty coppers per night. That includes breakfast and dinner—simple fare, but filling. No extra charge for hot water if you'd like to wash up."
"That's fair," I say, nodding.
I reach into thin air, focusing my thoughts. A faint shimmer appears beside me—just for a second—and a single silver coin drops neatly into my palm.
Both Beatrice and Emily freeze.
I catch their wide-eyed expressions and realize how that must have looked.
Ah. Right. Not everyone has a handy-dandy inventory function built into their soul.
To them, it probably looked like I just pulled a coin from nowhere—which, I guess, I did.
Inwardly, I thank the System for its storage function. It's saved me a lot of trouble carrying around jingling pockets.
Outwardly, I just place the silver gently on the counter. "This should cover a few days, right?"
Beatrice recovers first, smiling a little too brightly. "Y-yes! More than enough, actually. That'll pay for five days with meals included."
She slips the coin into a small lockbox and hands me a small wooden token carved with the number four and an old-fashioned key attached with twine. "This will be your room key. The token's for meals—show it to the kitchen staff during breakfast and dinner. Your room's upstairs, far corner."
"Thank you," I say with a polite nod.