Chapter 7 – Curiosity of Souls
The city's breeze drifted softly between the towering buildings, carrying with it the faint fragrance of wildflowers blooming on the outskirts of the park. In a nearly deserted square, Eyas and Saman were speaking in hushed tones when a sharp, feminine voice—tinged with both sarcasm and surprise—cut through their silence:
"Hey, you idiots! It's rare to see you two together!"
Both of them turned at the exact same moment, as if the voice had pierced their chests. And together, almost like they had rehearsed it for years, they shouted in unison with childlike innocence:
"Rooojin!"
She stood behind them with her arms crossed and brows raised, her long hair—shifting between fiery red and golden copper—fluttering in Alpha's rosy breeze.
Two spirits in one body. Rojin was nineteen, a rare hybrid of elf and nine-tailed fox—though she had only grown three tails so far. Her ears were long and pointed, more elven than vulpine, adorned with small metallic earrings that glittered in the sun.
Her face carried a rebellious beauty tinged with mischief. Skin caught between pale ivory and light bronze, a straight, delicate nose, and lips curved into a perpetual smirk. She wore a short, tight sports outfit of gray and pink, with light sneakers in bright colors. Her hair was tied into a high ponytail that swayed with her movements.
Electronic earbuds clung to her ears, leaking faint rhythmic beats, while sweat slid down her temples with the grace of someone who exercised daily—yet somehow never lost her elegance.
She bounded forward with two light skips and leaned in close, tilting her head as her curious gaze pierced their faces.
"So, what were you talking about so intently that you didn't even notice me? Come on, tell me!"
Her cheeks came within a breath of theirs.
Eyas slowly raised a hand in front of his face. "Stop right there, you nosy fox… we'll tell you, just don't eat us alive."
Saman chuckled, patting his shoulder. "Typical. That's Rojin for you."
But a single sharp glance from Rojin's eyes—like the edge of a blade—was enough to choke his laughter. She turned to Eyas, squinting one eye and asking with biting sarcasm:
"And you? Still keeping that sharp tongue of yours?"
Saman, still fighting the remnants of his laugh, muttered, "Not as sharp as her eyes, oh queen of annoyance."
They all burst into laughter, this time deeper, warmer—carrying with it the scent of old days and childhood dreams, when the world was simpler and brimming with endless possibility.
Then Rojin's voice softened, unexpectedly tender.
"It really has been a long time… I missed you both."
---
They found themselves beneath a massive crimson Sunweir tree. Its glowing leaves swayed with the wind, catching Alpha's rose-colored sunlight, while its trunk twisted upon itself like an ancient sage.
Rojin crouched, chewing on a thin green twig between her lips. "Alright then… what were you two whispering about? And don't say girls, or I'll kick you."
Eyas replied calmly, "I was asking him about the Tower."
Rojin straightened at once, as if struck by a jolt of lightning. "Finally! A topic worthy of curiosity. Speak, genius."
---
Saman stretched lazily, yawning. "At nineteen, everyone gets a translucent screen—what they call the system. It shows five basic attributes: intelligence, mind, life, spirit, and body. Each one has a percentage."
Eyas cut in. "Do they change over time?"
"Of course. Missions, training, even trauma—everything shifts the stats."
Rojin sprawled back on the grass. "So what makes someone stand out?"
Saman's tone grew livelier. "The extras! Abilities like spirit magic, aura, barbaric strength, super intellect… rare talents that only a few ever awaken."
Meanwhile, Rojin had begun digging behind the tree as though searching for… a rock?
---
Saman went on, while Rojin blew dust off her fingers.
"Elves: masters of elemental and spirit magic.
Dark Elves: same as elves, but they deal with corrupted spirits.
Dragons: strongest of all, with unmatched bodies and terrifying magic.
Humans: diverse and clever.
Dwarves: masters of craft and forging—though arrogant as hell.
Nine-tailed foxes: mysterious, alluring, able to manipulate—or even wash away—minds."
Both Eyas and Saman turned to her at the same instant, suspicion widening their eyes.
Rojin froze, the twig still between her lips. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"
They crept closer… then dramatically leapt away in perfect unison.
"Don't you dare pull that again," she snapped, "unless you actually want me to wash your brains myself!"
Then she lunged, tackling them both, knocking their heads together so hard they cried out laughing.
---
Saman, lying on his back, sighed. "When you turn twenty, the Tower sends you an invitation. A compulsory one. Some kind of special trial."
Eyas whispered, "Why?"
"No one knows," Saman said, staring at the sky. "Some call it an entrance test. Others say it's a glimpse of the future. But one thing's sure: it's where the true climb begins—on the second floor."
Rojin asked, suddenly serious, "And the missions?"
"Daily, weekly, even monthly. Complete them, and you get rewards—points, potions, artifacts, books. All raising your stats. The ranks go from: Common, Ordinary, Unusual, Rare, Excellent, Legendary, then Epic."
Eyas murmured thoughtfully, "Is there anything higher than Epic?"
Saman's lips curled. "They whisper about something called the Hidden Rank… or Pure. But no one's ever seen it."
---
They wandered toward the city's heart. Northern City B was alive with color and noise.
Vendors shouted over one another:
"Fresh Alpha herbs, finest in the quadrant!"
"Mutant energy drinks, guaranteed boost!"
Shops lined the streets: a magical library, a dwarven forge, a nanotech boutique, even a museum displaying relics of fallen heroes.
Children ran through the parks—dwarves chasing humans, young elves laughing, fox kits darting between their feet.
---
At last, the three settled on a hill overlooking the entire city. Lying on their backs, they gazed at a sky not blue, but a blend of crimson and rose, scattered with silver stars that shimmered like distant, watchful beings.
Rojin closed her eyes. "Dinner time… come to my place."
Saman and Eyas exchanged a slow, wary glance. "She's… cooking herself? That's terrifying."
"I heard that!" she yelled.
The three of them laughed, and this laughter was fuller, brighter—alive.
---
They left the hill at a lazy pace. Rojin walked in front like a commander who tolerated no defiance, while Saman and Eyas followed, trading looks of doom—as if heading to an execution, not a dinner table.
Saman muttered under his breath. "What if she puts poison instead of salt?"
Eyas replied dead serious. "We eat… and pray."
Rojin raised her hand without turning. "I heard that! If you don't like my cooking, I'll just cook you instead."
Eyas stifled a laugh. Saman faked a cough.
The streets grew busier around them: a hulking dwarf dragged a cart of clattering metal pots; beside him, an elf sold glowing flowers pulsing like tiny beating hearts. Children of every race darted past, while an old android strummed a stringed instrument, its hollow tune echoing like wind through pipes.
Rojin suddenly stopped at a candy shop, her eyes lighting up like a child's.
"Let's buy some sweets before dinner, yeah?"
Saman protested immediately. "But sweets before food—"
She shoved him aside. "Shut it, health guru. Nobody refuses candy."
Eyas smirked, fanning the flames. "He's right, Saman. Sweets are essential. Might be the last edible thing before Rojin's cooking."
Her hand slammed his shoulder hard enough to make him stumble. "Say that again after you taste my food."
They turned down a quieter street strung with glowing paper lanterns, blue and green light swaying above. The air smelled of fresh bread and woodsmoke—like a painting come to life.
Finally, they stood before Rojin's home: a traditional white-walled house with carved wooden windows, wrapped in a garden of glowing Alpha plants. The place looked welcoming… far more than they had expected.
Rojin smiled confidently as she opened the door.
"Come in, gentlemen… to a feast you'll never forget."
Eyas and Saman traded one last nervous glance before stepping inside, as though crossing the threshold of a mysterious tower rather than a kitchen.
End of Chapter 7