CHAPTER 60: SILK, SILVER AND SECRETS

Chapter 59: Silk, Silver and Secrets

The market street of Velkarth bustled with color and noise. Merchants cried out their wares—spices, cloth, tools, trinkets—while the smells of roasted meat and sweet bread mingled in the air. Ethan walked with his usual relaxed stride, hands behind his back, stopping every so often whenever something caught his eye.

Behind him trailed Lirael, lips twitching as if she were biting back an outburst. Instead, she muttered under her breath in a steady stream.

"Ten gold coins... wasted. Just wasted. Why? Why are you even doing this? Does money sprout from your pockets like weeds? Who in their right mind spends five whole gold coins just to buy a slave collar because it looks ’nice’? Hmph. And tipping—fifty silver coins—for no reason! Have you lost your mind? And silk accessories... four gold coins, on maid clothing of all things! Maid clothing! You—you don’t even know how to use money properly. Next time we earn coin, I swear, I’ll be keeping it. All of it."

Her voice grew sharper with each sentence, though it never rose above a muttering tone—more like she was arguing with herself than with him. A few passersby even glanced at her curiously, hearing snatches of her grumbling.

Ethan, meanwhile, only walked on with a smug grin. His eyes twinkled with pride as he peeked into yet another stall, ignoring her barrage of complaints. At last, he turned his head slightly, his voice calm and unbothered.

"You sound jealous of my taste."

Lirael stopped in her tracks. "Jealous? Jealous!? Of a man who buys overpriced collars and throws away silver like he’s feeding pigeons? Don’t make me laugh."

Ethan’s grin widened. He leaned in close, his tone playful but serious enough to sting. "You’re just mad because you know I’m right about one thing. You will look better and feel better in silk."

Lirael’s face flushed hot, a mix of anger and embarrassment, and she nearly tripped over her own feet. "Wh-what nonsense are you talking about? And then—you—you send me to buy... that sort of thing? Undergarments?!" Her voice cracked, eyes darting around to see if anyone had overheard. "Do you even hear yourself saying such things with a straight face?!"

Ethan chuckled low in his throat, clearly savoring her fluster. "Well, of course. I can’t walk into a shop like that... but my maid can."

Her mouth fell open, at a complete loss for words. She pointed a trembling finger at him, then dropped it with a defeated groan. "Hopeless... absolutely hopeless." She hugged her coin purse protectively against her chest, muttering again, "Next time, I’m keeping every coin. Every. Single. One."

And still, Ethan only looked forward, that same smug smile never leaving his face.

Ethan only laughed at her muttering and waved a hand dismissively.

"Yeah, sure, next time you can keep the purse... From next time, that is." His grin widened as he added, "In my previous world too, women of the house usually handled expenses, even though it was the men who earned the money. I heard their cries often enough as CEO of my company. Trust me—it was damn funny, especially since I didn’t have to deal with that mess personally. But today..." He spun the pouch of coins on his finger and caught it with a smirk. "Today I’ll spend all I want. Hah!"

Lirael blinked at him, frowning. "CEO... your previous world... I keep wondering about this ’company’ thing you always mention."

His smile softened, almost teasing but carrying an undertone of something more. "Don’t worry. I’ll tell you everything you wish to know. But not now."

Something in his tone—gentle but final—made her fall silent. She lowered her head, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve, and a faint blush crept onto the tips of her ears as she recalled a event that ended with same sentence.

They moved on, stopping at a men’s tailor. Ethan ran his hand across fabrics, selecting a few pieces without hesitation. He settled on a set of dark but finely cut clothes: simple enough for a lower noble, yet sharp enough that he would not look out of place among wealthier circles. When he tried them against his frame, the shopkeeper’s eyes lit with approval.

Outside, with the bundle slung under his arm, Ethan stretched, looking toward the reddening sky. The sun had not yet touched the horizon—there was still time before evening. His lips curled into a boyish grin.

"You know," he said, glancing at her sidelong, "I’m damn excited to see you in that maid outfit I picked. But—tsk—of all things, my class gets in the way. Can you believe it? My dreams, right in front of me, and I’ve got to check on some system nonsense."

Lirael’s brows lifted slightly at that, her irritation forgotten. "Your class..." She tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her eyes. "You went unconscious last time, didn’t you? And still, you never told me what it truly was."

Ethan let out a short chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck as though recalling the incident. "Yeah... it wasn’t exactly a smooth process. Guess the system wasn’t ready for me, or maybe I wasn’t ready for it. But I’ve been itching to see what I’ve unlocked since then."

Her expression softened, curiosity mixing with a trace of concern. "Then... will you show me this time?"

He gave her a long look, lips quirking into that same mischievous smile. "Maybe. Depends on how nicely you ask, my dear maid."

Her cheeks colored instantly. "Y-you—!" She bit back her words, realizing a few merchants were watching, then turned away sharply with a huff. But the eagerness in her eyes betrayed her—she wanted to see, badly.

---

As they walked on, the streets gradually gave way to quieter paths. The din of the market faded, replaced by the softer chorus of cicadas and the rustle of leaves stirred by the evening breeze.

"You know," Lirael said suddenly, her tone light but laced with mock drama, "I think I might actually regret becoming your slave. Who knows what sort of atrocities you’ll make me commit?"

Her lips curved ever so slightly, betraying the jest behind her words. The sparkle in her eyes told a different story from her mouth.

Ethan shot her a sidelong glance, smirking. "Atrocities? You wound me. At most, I’ll only ask you to cook, clean, and maybe... parade around in the outfits I pick for you."

Her face flared pink. "Y-you—!" She turned away sharply, muttering, "Hopeless. Absolutely hopeless..."

"You are really bad at getting mad I say you, you keep repeating the same phrases..."

"Y–you!"

"See! I said so"

he laughed out

"Even the tone is same"

This time Lirael didn’t said a thing just puffed her cheeks and kept silent

They kept walking, their steps unhurried, until the cobbled road thinned and the forest edge loomed before them. The towering trees cast long shadows, the air cooler here, filled with the earthy scent of moss and pine.

Ethan paused near the forest opening, scanning around. The path was empty, no villagers in sight. With a flick of his wrist, the bundles of clothes and trinkets they had bought shimmered, then vanished into thin air—tucked neatly away into his inventory.

Lirael blinked. Even after witnessing it multiple times, the effortless motion still fascinated her.

"Alright," Ethan said, brushing his hands together as though wiping off dust. His voice dropped a notch, becoming more serious. "Maybe we should head deeper in. From what I know, this... might not end properly if anyone else sees it."

Lirael tilted her head, curiosity sharpening. "Just what exactly are you planning?"

"You’ll see." He flashed her a grin that promised both trouble and revelation.

Though part of her wanted to press further, she followed without complaint. Together they walked into the forest, weaving between the trunks until the canopy thinned and they stumbled into a wide clearing. The open space stretched in all directions, bathed in shafts of golden light piercing through the leaves.

Ethan turned, planting his feet firmly in the center. "Perfect. Big enough for me to break things without destroying the village."

Lirael folded her arms, lips twitching. "You’re making me nervous with how excited you look."

"Good," he said, eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Means I’m doing something right."