Hazuki stood at the edge of the town square, shoulders slumped, eyes dull from the barrage of angry dwarves and airborne objects.
He sighed, long and heavy.
"Man… it's really hard to find anyone who can make heels in this place. Big town, tons of crafters… and not a single one makes shoes."
Ridan floated beside him, arms crossed behind his head as he drifted lazily in the air.
"Hmm? Of course it's hard. You've been asking blacksmiths, enchanters, wand-makers… you even asked a guy who was selling pickaxes."
"I didn't know that at first glance," Hazuki muttered.
Ridan shrugged. "Still, I gotta ask—why the rush, man? You could take your time. It's not like your wedding's next month."
Hazuki let out a small laugh, eyes softening slightly. "Yeah... still got eight more years, huh."
"Exactly. And besides," Ridan tilted his head, "how can you even confirm the size?"
Hazuki blinked.
Then froze.
"…Ah. That's true."
"You don't even know her foot size, genius."
