The streets of Elandra bustled with late-morning life as Inigo and Lyra walked side by side, navigating between merchants setting up fresh displays and townsfolk running errands. The markets were vibrant—rows of stalls overflowing with dyed fabrics, glimmering accessories, and the unmistakable scent of freshly baked goods drifting through the air.
"I feel underdressed," Inigo muttered, tugging lightly at his worn shirt.
Lyra glanced at him, lips tugging into the faintest smile. "You look like a mercenary who forgot which war he was supposed to be in."
"Exactly my point."
They turned a corner into the Tailor's District, a quieter stretch of storefronts where the colors were richer, and the clientele dressed a little too sharply to be adventurers. One shop caught Lyra's eye—a glass-front boutique with a silver-embroidered sign that read The Gilded Thread.
"This one," she said, already stepping toward the entrance.
"You sound too confident about this."
"Trust me. If you're going to represent Ebon Vanguard, you shouldn't look like a stray dog."
Inside, the boutique was cooler, the scent of pressed linen and polished wood strong in the air. Bolts of cloth lined the walls, ranging from simple browns and blacks to deep royal blues and shimmering silvers. A middle-aged woman with spectacles perched on her nose greeted them with a practiced smile.
"Adventurer wear?" she guessed, eyeing Inigo.
"Upgraded adventurer wear," Lyra said smoothly, stepping in front of him. "He needs something durable, practical, but not completely savage."
The tailor raised an eyebrow at Inigo, who gave her a resigned shrug.
"I just go where I'm told."
Within minutes, Inigo found himself ushered behind a curtain while a set of fitted clothes were brought to him: a dark-gray longcoat with reinforced stitching, high-collar tunic with silver accents, sturdy charcoal pants tucked into new black boots. It all felt unfamiliar—too polished, too refined.
He stepped out.
Lyra looked him over once, then again, more slowly.
"…You clean up surprisingly well."
Inigo turned, examining himself in the tall mirror.
"Not bad," he admitted. "Still feels weird not having dirt on me."
"You'll live."
They paid—well, Inigo did, dropping several silvers on the counter without blinking. The guild bonus for the kobold quest had left him comfortable enough to splurge a little.
As they exited, Inigo glanced at Lyra, who walked with that usual elegant grace that made her look like she belonged in ballrooms instead of caves.
"Want to grab something to eat?" he asked.
"You just bought clothes. Isn't that enough for one day?"
He grinned. "I was thinking dessert."
She tilted her head. "Dessert?"
"Come on, I saw a stand near the plaza yesterday. Let's see if it's still there."
They navigated through the midday crowd until they reached the merchant square, and just as Inigo hoped, the crepe stand was still there—run by a cheerful older man flipping thin, golden cakes onto parchment and folding them around fruits, creams, and honeyed nuts.
"Two," Inigo said, pointing to a fruit-and-cream variety topped with powdered sugar.
He handed one to Lyra, who examined it skeptically.
"You eat it with your hands?"
"It's a crepe, not a potion bottle. Try it."
She took a small bite—and paused. Then another.
"…It's sweet."
"That's generally the idea."
They sat on the edge of a low fountain in the plaza, watching people pass. Nearby, children chased each other around flower carts, and a few armored knights laughed over drinks on a tavern porch.
"You've done this before," Lyra said after a while, still working on her crepe.
"What, shopping?"
"No. Living. You walk through this world like it's not new to you."
Inigo shrugged. "It's complicated."
"Another realm?" she asked again, without teasing this time.
He looked at her, expression unreadable for a moment. Then he nodded.
"Yeah. Another world entirely."
"Where do you really come from? I see a lot of weapons but most certainly not with those types," Lyra said, munching her crepe.
"You wouldn't understand if I explained this to you. No—more like you wouldn't believe my story," Inigo said.
"Try me," Lyra challenged.
Inigo shook his head, still wouldn't want to reveal that he is from another world
He leaned back against the cool stone edge of the fountain, eyes fixed on the gently rippling water. He twirled the remains of his crepe between his fingers, gaze distant.
"I've been places that don't have mana," he said slowly. "Where swords are decorations, not tools. Where wars are fought from a distance with machines, and people live packed into cities that scrape the sky."
Lyra blinked. "A realm without mana?"
He nodded. "No elves. No dragons. No magic academies. Just… systems. Devices. Cold steel and logic. My weapons are from there."
She was silent for a beat, studying him. "That's… a lot to take in."
"Which is why I don't usually say anything," Inigo murmured. "But you've earned the right to hear a piece of it."
Lyra took another bite, chewed, and swallowed. "It explains a lot. How calm you are in a fight. The way you analyze things, like every step is already planned."
As much as he wanted to admit that it was the influence of the system which made him able to do things that he hadn't done before, he couldn't. Of course, there was already an impression on Lyra of how reliable he was in the fight. He wouldn't want to risk destroying that.
"Yeah…"
"I wonder where that place is really from."
"Somewhere far away, but I don't think of it now as I am focusing on the present, which is this," Inigo replied.
Lyra didn't say anything at first. She just watched him, eyes soft, her usually guarded face unguarded for once.
"You don't have to carry it all alone, you know," she said gently.
"Are you already attached to me emotionally like that?" Inigo chuckled.
Lyra rolled her eyes, but there was no real annoyance in the gesture. "Don't flatter yourself," she said, though the corners of her mouth twitched upward.
Inigo chuckled. "I'm just saying, you're getting a little soft on me."
"I'd rather call it 'practical trust,'" she said smoothly, finishing the last bite of her crepe. "But… I guess there are worse people to trust."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, watching a group of children splash at the fountain's far end. "I don't know where any of this is going, Lyra. This world, our party, our future mission—but for the first time since I arrived here, it feels like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."
She remained quiet after that.
Eventually, Lyra stood. "We will see each other tomorrow."
"And I prefer that when we see each other tomorrow, I see you completely. Not that hooded figure."