Luckily we didn't have to walk very long to get to Luna's clothing shop. The streets of the capital were loud and bustling, and I could feel the weight of every stare tugging at me as we moved through the crowd. Stalls and carriages rattled by, the scent of spices and perfume clashing in the air, until finally the carved wooden sign of a boutique came into view. Its painted letters were faded from years of sunlight, but the door was polished, a bell hanging from the handle as if it had been replaced just yesterday.
Following the group into the shop, I sighed as the wave of smell hit me. The powerful aroma of incense, along with the scents of fabric and leather, was thick enough to cling to my throat. It wasn't unpleasant exactly—floral and sweet, with something sharp underneath—but it was heavy, suffocating almost.
"Luna, where are you!" Amari shouted into the store before I could even take a step further in.
"Amari, dear, is that you? I am coming!" A voice sang back. From the back room came a clatter of things tumbling to the ground, rolls of cloth and what sounded like boxes crashing down in a chaotic cascade.
Deja vu prickled across my skin, and I instinctively sidestepped, leaving a clear path away from Amari just in time to avoid the inevitable. With a squeal, a blur of blond hair came flying out of the back room and collided with Amari. They tumbled down together in a mess of limbs and fabric.
Blinking, I looked at the woman sprawled on Amari. She looked so familiar my mouth moved before my brain could stop it.
"Lucy?" I said subconsciously.
The woman froze, her face pressed against Amari's chest, then turned her head toward me with a frown. Her eyes were sharp, narrowed like knives. "Hmm? Who are you?" she demanded.
"Me?" I blinked, startled by how hostile her tone was. "I'm her sister. And you must be Luna… Lucy's twin, I presume." My finger pointed toward Amari, who was still dazed from the impact.
At the sound of that name, the blond woman's lips twitched. Slowly she climbed off Amari, brushing imaginary dust from her skirt as her eyes swept me up and down. "Is that so? I can finally meet Amari's sister, huh." She tilted her head, but then her mouth tightened. "Also, don't say that name in front of me."
Noted. She didn't need to spell out her dislike for her twin—it was written plain in the stiff set of her shoulders.
"Yes, I'm here to get some clothes," I said, deciding not to prod her about it. Better not to drag Lucy into this.
"You seem like a smart one." She smirked suddenly, her mood shifting with dizzying speed. She grabbed my hand before I could react and tugged me toward the back.
I stiffened as she tried to roll up my sleeve. Instinct kicked in, and I pulled away, gripping my scarf tighter. "I'd prefer if you didn't do that just yet," I said, steadying my tone.
Her eyes narrowed in brief confusion before she shrugged, utterly unconcerned. "Fine. You can tell me all about it when I'm busy giving you a makeover." And before I could object further, she latched onto my wrist again and tugged me toward the back of the shop.
"No dresses," I warned quickly, dragging my feet a little but not resisting too much.
"Don't worry, I already know. You're the type who would rather die than wear one," she replied with a grin that showed too many teeth.
"This really does feel like déjà vu," I muttered under my breath, though I let her lead me.
"Come sit down." She gestured at a polished wooden chair placed in front of a large mirror with ornate edges. With a soft sigh, I set my scarf aside and shrugged out of my coat, folding it carefully before draping it over the chair. Beneath, my chest was still bandaged tightly, faint traces of curses visible like shadowy veins crawling across my skin.
"Ooh." Her eyes widened in delight, and before I could sit, she had grabbed my arms, tilting them left and right like a child with a new toy. "These are so cool! You should be showing them off more. They'll pull in girls left and right, especially with that lean body of yours."
I raised a brow, impressed despite myself. "You're perceptive."
"Of course," she said with a wink, releasing me just long enough for me to sit.
Internally, I smirked. She may not be as sharp as Mom, but for a shop clerk, she is sharp enough.
"Yeah, I'll never beat Stacy." The words left her lips before she realized what she had said. Her eyes went wide, and she slapped both hands over her mouth, staring at me in the mirror with sudden fear.
"So you can read minds," I murmured, settling more comfortably into the chair. "Good to know."
"You aren't… mad?" She asked cautiously, lowering her hands a fraction.
"Try again," I said, flashing a smile at her reflection.
Her brows pinched, but she closed her eyes, focusing. A second later, her face blanched white, and she jerked back, clutching her head. "Why would you do that!" she shouted, her voice cracking.
I laughed, unable to help myself. "Honestly, I expected you to throw up." I had flooded my thoughts with vivid memories—torture methods I had used in my past life. I had edited those memories, of course, to portray myself as a girl, but the brutality still remained.
Her breathing was ragged as she steadied herself, her eyes wide. "Why would a girl your age even know how to torture people like that? And in the most gruesome ways possible."
"Haha." I leaned back, resting my elbows on the chair's arms. "You don't need to know why. But it was a wonderful stress reliever."
The smile crept onto my lips before I realized it, sharp and dark as I recalled those times. The thought of when Mom might finally allow me to deal with traitors sent a thrill through me.
Apparently my expression betrayed me, because Luna swatted me on the head with the flat of her palm.
"Stop that. I won't be able to concentrate with that kind of smile," she said, glaring.
"Hehe, sorry." I raised my hands in surrender. "I have a question."
"Ask away," she said, reaching for scissors and combs, starting to trim the ends of my hair.
"Why didn't you react to my eyes?" I asked, watching her in the mirror.
"Your eyes?" She tilted her head.
"Yeah. They're… different. But when our eyes met, you didn't flinch at all."
"Oooh, that." She hummed thoughtfully. "They might look scary, sure, but I've seen worse. And if I'm right about what you mean by 'special,' they probably only work on people who are trained or who have bad intentions toward you. I've heard of eyes like that before. The best way to resist them is either to have real strength or unshakable pride in something."
I blinked, surprised by how calmly she explained it. "Is that so… thank you."
While she cut, my mind wandered to the problem of my fox form. Changing always meant tearing clothes or awkwardly slipping out. "Is there a way to get clothes that can change shape with the body?" I asked.
"There is, but it's expensive." She arched a brow. "Why? Do you need it?"
"Yes. Money isn't a problem. Can you make all my clothes like that?"
Her scissors paused. "All of them? How many sets are we talking?"
"Thirty every day. Fifty for training. And… five formal sets." I didn't hesitate.
Her jaw dropped. "Pfff—why so many?"
"Reasons." I met her stare without blinking. "Can you do it?"
"I can," she admitted reluctantly, "but not today. I'll give you a few sets I already have in your size and deliver the rest later." She leaned back, brushing loose strands from my shoulders. "All done. How do you like it?"
I reached up, fingers brushing the lighter locks. My hair still fell below my shoulders, but it was thinned, the weight gone. The bangs framed my face better. "Thank you. But… why is there more white now?"
"No matter what I did, every time I cut, the ends turned white." She shrugged helplessly.
"I see." I stood, stretching.
"I'll fetch the clothes. Go to the changing room—I'll bring them to you," she said, pointing at a door near the side.
"Can you make sure they're baggy? I prefer that style."
She smirked. "I was already going to bring you men's clothes. Don't worry—they'll be baggy enough."
Shrugging, I walked to the changing room.
—
Twenty minutes later, I stepped out. Amari and Rachel were waiting on a small bench, chatting quietly. Both looked up when I emerged.
"Yo. Have you been waiting long?" I asked, walking toward them.
"Luna did an impressive job. You look so manly." Amari grinned, teasing.
Rachel's expression flickered between joy and disappointment, her cheeks flushed.
"Why do you look disappointed?" I asked, arching a brow. "Don't I look good?"
"You do," she admitted, fidgeting, "but…" The words trailed off into embarrassed silence.
Internally, I smirked. She's probably disappointed she can't ogle my body anymore. But glad no one else can either.
Turning to the mirror by the counter, I examined myself. A hoodie with the sleeves down and a tank top underneath. Black cargo pants tucked into ankle boots. A sports bra instead of the usual kind. My breasts weren't huge—barely a B-cup—but still bigger than Mom's, so I didn't care. My hair was tied back into a neat ponytail, my scarf wrapped securely around my neck.
I hadn't rolled up my sleeves. Not here, not in public with Amari. No need to start stupid rumors about her before introductions were handled properly.
"Aah, finally you're done," Zagan shouted from across the shop.
"Yeah, I just need to pay and finish my order," I said, walking toward the counter.
"Cool."
At the desk, Luna handed me a slip of parchment with the cost. My eyes nearly popped.
"How much did you say?" I asked, incredulous.
"That'll be fifty platinum coins," she said sweetly.
My lips twitched. One platinum was worth a hundred gold. One gold was a hundred silver. One silver was a hundred copper. This meant that my order totaled five thousand gold coins. I had saved for two years, and now that money was gone in a single purchase. With a long, suffering sigh, I pulled out the coins from storage and dropped them on the counter.
"Ugh, I'm so poor now," I groaned, slumping.
"To think you had fifty platinum on you," Zagan muttered, stunned.
"Where'd you get that money?" Amari asked, still staring.
"The person who wants me to fight for the kingdom," I replied flatly, eyes still on the counter.
"Huh? It can't be Mom or the Black Ops," Amari muttered under her breath.
"If it isn't one of those, then it must be the King," Zagan said. His expression darkened. "Is he… buying you, like a mercenary?"
"Hmpf. Don't worry about that. It has nothing to do with you." I shrugged, brushing him off.
"But—" Amari started, but she met my eyes and fell silent.
I don't care who they think it is. Some things are meant to be known only by our house, and no one else. I packed away the items, shoulders heavy.
All I received was a grunt.