CHAPTER 128: THE PILLOW AWAITS

Chapter 126: The Pillow Awaits

The rest of the day was mercifully calm for the two of them. No serpents, no collapsing walls, no frantic escapes. Just the hum of city life and the luxury of time to themselves.

They wandered through the bustling avenues, sampling roasted skewers from street stalls, browsing through tiny trinket shops, and eventually stepping into boutiques that carried the shine of wealth. Ethan, of course, went straight for the expensive side of things, his eyes immediately landing on finely woven tunics, embroidered coats, and silver-threaded cloaks that screamed nobility.

Lirael watched him with her arms crossed, a mixture of amusement and exasperation playing across her face. "Why do you always prefer noble clothing? You know pretending to be a noble could get you executed on the spot."

Ethan smirked while holding a deep-blue coat against himself. "Who said I’m pretending? I never claimed I’m a noble." He turned the coat, admiring the stitching. "I could just as well be a rich commoner. And besides... in my previous world, my status would’ve rivaled an archduke here. So no one’s faking shit."

Lirael groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "Unbelievable."

But the jabs continued as they moved from one shop to another, his taste consistently extravagant, hers leaning toward practicality. Still, she ended up with a small silver bracelet and a pair of earrings, though she wouldn’t admit aloud how much she liked them.

By evening, the sun had dipped low and the streets glowed with lantern light as they headed back toward their inn. That was when Lirael finally snapped.

"Why do you always waste so much money?!" she burst out, glaring at him. "We spent five gold today, you idiot! Money doesn’t grow on trees!"

Ethan’s laugh was infuriatingly carefree. "Don’t be mad. I told you before—if you’re with me, you’ll spend that kind of amount on a daily basis. Hehe... rejoice, you officially belong to a rich master."

"Arghhh!" she threw her hands up. "And here I thought I left my noble life behind. Even back then I never spent so much."

He gave her a sly glance. "Or maybe... you just never had much to spend in the first place."

Her cheeks flushed, her lips tightening. "Tsk... nothing can be done with you."

"Thanks for the praise."

"I’m not praising you, you idiot!" she snapped, stomping ahead of him, but he only chuckled and fell in step beside her.

By the time they reached the inn, exhaustion had dulled her irritation. The two slipped into their shared room, the warmth of the lanterns inside welcoming them. For once, there were no fiery entanglements or teasing pushes toward passion—just quiet comfort.

They lay down together, her head finding its place against his chest. Ethan wrapped his arms around her, his voice low and steady. "Whatever happens... at the end of the day, you’ll always be in my arms."

Lirael didn’t reply. She kept her face buried against him, feigning sleep. But the faintest curl at the edge of her lips betrayed her. She undeniably felt... nice. Safe.

And with that, both drifted into slumber, letting the world outside fall away.

--

The morning sun spilled through the curtains, golden light warming the tangled sheets. Ethan stirred first, finding Lirael curled against him. For a long moment, he simply watched her—her hair a silken mess across the pillow, her breathing soft and steady. Then, with a mischievous glint, he leaned in and pressed a long, hearty kiss to her lips.

Lirael’s eyes fluttered open in surprise, but she didn’t resist. Instead, she relaxed into it, her arms tightening around him. Their lips parted briefly before meeting again, tongues brushing, tangling. The kiss deepened naturally, a slow escalation into something heady and hungry. Lirael’s breath hitched, her hands clinging tighter to his back, and for a few blissful minutes the world ceased to exist beyond that shared heat.

When they finally parted, a thin string of saliva lingered between them. Ethan smiled, brushing his thumb lightly across her cheek. "We’ll continue this later... trust me, I want to devour you right now. But my other pillow is waiting for me."

"Pillow?" she blinked—then realization dawned. Today was the day they would secure Ethan’s next companion: a healer. Her lips parted as if to say something, but she quickly hid her sudden spark of excitement, twisting her expression into a haughty little frown.

"Hmph." She slipped out of his hold, scurrying toward the washroom. Yet before vanishing behind the door, she darted back and planted a quick peck on his lips, her cheeks burning.

---

When they finally emerged from their room, they were a striking sight. Ethan had chosen one of his newest acquisitions: a sleek black coat trimmed with crimson lining, a matching cape that swirled behind him, and golden accessories that gleamed against the dark fabric. The attire lent him a princely air, each step carrying a natural confidence.

Beside him, Lirael walked in her silk maid attire, crisp and immaculate. The simplicity of her outfit only enhanced her beauty, her elegance drawing just as many eyes as his finery. Together, they looked like a crown prince and his breathtaking personal maid, strolling through the city as if it belonged to them.

And the city noticed.

As they made their way down the main street, heads turned. Some whispered behind their hands, admiring the handsome nobleman and the maid who seemed too radiant for common soil. Others looked on with cautious respect, instinctively giving way. Not a single person suspected the truth—that neither held noble title.

Ethan chuckled under his breath, enjoying the invisible crown he wore. "See? Told you this attire was worth the coin. Half the street thinks I own the city."

Lirael sniffed, feigning disinterest, though the faint pink at her ears betrayed her. "You’re still an idiot for spending that much. Clothes don’t make the man."

"No," Ethan agreed smoothly, smirking, "but they make everyone else think I’m someone worth bowing to. That’s worth every gold."

"Tch..." she muttered, but her lips curved ever so slightly as they turned into the narrower roads that led toward the slave district.

---

The atmosphere changed the moment they entered. The lively chatter of the market gave way to the subdued murmurs of commerce and appraisal. The slave district was quieter, but not gentler—each street lined with iron-barred houses, guarded compounds, and signs declaring trade houses. The air carried the scent of ink, parchment, and faint despair.

At the end of one such street stood a sturdy building marked by a brass plate: Conner’s Trade House.

Inside, the reception room was warmer than the streets outside, though the faint weight of its purpose lingered. Polished wooden benches lined the walls, a faint incense burning to mask the less pleasant scents drifting from deeper within.

Ethan and Lirael took a seat. His coat swept dramatically as he sat back with an ease that screamed entitlement. Lirael perched beside him, spine straight, her expression calm but eyes sharp.

Ethan crossed one leg over the other, fingers drumming lightly against the armrest. "Finally," he murmured. "Time to buy my healer."