After Serena left, the house returned to its usual silence. I glanced at Veralyn, who was still standing near the dining table, looking slightly confused by everything that had just happened.
"Well then," I said, breaking the quiet, "we should head out before it gets too late."
Veralyn looked at me. "Now?"
"The capital is not too far from here. If we leave now, we can arrive before the afternoon."
She hesitated for a moment. Her eyes dropped to the oversized clothes she was wearing, as though she had just realized she had no choice but to wear them into the city.
"I will look strange," she said flatly.
"Stranger than a commoner who challenged a prince in front of an entire hall?" I replied.
Veralyn stared at me for a full two seconds, then turned her face toward the window.
"Fine," she said at last.
I was not certain, but I thought the corner of her lips rose ever so slightly.
...
The Capital City of Ulbert was truly without equal.
Wide streets paved with polished marble, towering buildings of grand architecture, a magic spire rising in the distance, and hundreds of people flowing through the streets with their own sense of purpose. The main market stretched along the central avenue, filled with merchants hawking everything from rare spices to forged weapons. Royal banners fluttered at every intersection, and the scent of fresh bread mingled with the fragrance of flowers from the shops lining the road.
This city had been designed to be magnificent. And I was rather pleased to find that its layout was exactly as I remembered from the game.
Yet I had never imagined I would see it with my own eyes. The texture of the stone beneath my feet, the wind carrying the aroma of the marketplace, the sound of laughter and haggling filling the air. All of this was far more alive than anything a monitor had ever shown me.
And this time, I was not walking alone.
To my right, a silver-haired woman walked with quiet, measured steps. Despite wearing clothes that were a size too large, her posture and the way she carried herself still radiated an aura that was difficult to ignore. Several passersby glanced our way, some curious, others seeming to admire her face even though her appearance was far from that of a noblewoman.
She was drawing quite a bit of attention.
Too much attention.
"Sorry," I said suddenly. "You ended up getting dragged into this."
At my apology, Veralyn immediately shook her head. The movement was quick, almost too quick for someone who was usually so composed.
"No, it is fine," she answered. "I am glad to be out for a walk."
There was something different in her tone. Not flat like usual. Lighter. More honest.
Hearing her answer, I felt a small wave of relief. At least she did not feel forced into this.
We began walking along the main street, passing rows of shops and merchants hawking their wares. But I did not stop at any of them. There was a more fitting destination for our purpose.
After a few minutes of walking, the building came into view.
Crescentia Grand Emporium.
The first and currently the only shopping center in this world. A three-story structure with a white stone facade and large glass windows that reflected the sunlight. Above the main entrance, the Crescentia Group emblem was carved with quiet elegance. People flowed in and out through its wide doors, most of them dressed in a manner that clearly indicated their status as nobility or wealthy merchants.
This was one of the most successful ideas from my previous life. The concept of a shopping center, a place where dozens of stores gathered under a single roof, had never existed in this world before. When I first explained it to Serena, she had stared at me for a full ten seconds before finally declaring that I was a brilliant madman.
"We are going in here," I said.
Veralyn stopped walking.
I turned and saw her standing a few steps behind me, her eyes tracing the building from bottom to top. It was not a gaze of admiration. It was more like the gaze of someone measuring whether they deserved to be in a place like this.
"This is..." she said softly, "too much."
"What is?"
"This place." Her eyes dropped to the oversized clothes she was wearing. "I cannot walk in there looking like this. Everyone coming out of that building is dressed properly."
I looked at her for a moment.
A woman who just days ago had stood in the academy hall wearing a noble gown with an aura that silenced the entire room now felt unworthy of entering a shop because her clothes did not fit. This world was truly skilled at breaking people down.
"That is precisely why we are here," I answered calmly. "So that you no longer have to wear clothes that are not yours."
Veralyn looked at me. Her lips parted slightly, as though she wanted to argue, but could not find the right words.
"Besides," I continued, walking toward the entrance, "there is no dress code to enter this place. Anyone is welcome."
That was not a lie. I was the one who made sure that rule existed when the concept was first explained to Serena. A shopping center should be open to everyone, not just those who were already wealthy.
Veralyn still hesitated, but when she saw me walk ahead without looking back, she eventually followed.
As we stepped inside the Crescentia Grand Emporium, cool air greeted us immediately. Inside, polished marble floors reflected the light of crystal lamps hanging from the high ceiling. Rows of shops lined each side, selling everything from clothing and jewelry to perfumes, books, and magical supplies. The air was filled with a blend of new fabric and delicate spices.
Several shop attendants turned our way. Their gazes clearly lingered on Veralyn's oversized clothing. One of them, a young woman in the crisp uniform of a Crescentia employee, approached with a practiced professional smile, the kind that was polite but not entirely genuine. Her eyes had already assessed us before her mouth had a chance to open.
But as she drew close enough, her gaze fell upon a single point.
A small button on the collar of my shirt.
A silver button engraved with the Crescentia emblem in exquisite detail. Not an ordinary button. Not something that could be purchased in any store. That button was given only to those with the highest authority within Crescentia Group, a rank equivalent to the company's founders.
In this entire world, only two people possessed that button. Serena Valenrose, and me.
Of course, I never wore it to show off. The button had been part of my clothing for years, so familiar that I had almost forgotten it was there. But for anyone who worked under the Crescentia Group umbrella, that button carried more weight than any identification ever could.
The change in the attendant's face happened in a fraction of a second.
Her measured professional smile shifted into something far more genuine. Her back straightened slightly. And her voice, which had been polite but ordinary, now carried a faint tremor of real respect.
"W-Welcome," she said, her voice slightly quieter than before. She bowed deeper than what would normally be given to a regular customer. "Is there anything we can assist you with?"
Veralyn glanced at me from the corner of her eye. I could feel the questions spinning in her head, but she did not voice them.
"We need several sets of clothing," I said. "For this lady. Everything from everyday wear to formal gowns. Select the finest you have."
The attendant nodded quickly, then courteously guided us to the second floor, the section dedicated to women's attire.
And that was where Veralyn's defenses began to crumble.
Not in a bad way. In the most human way possible.
Among the rows of gowns hanging neatly on wooden racks, among silks and fine cottons in colors she had never touched, something in Veralyn's eyes changed. Her fingers moved slowly, brushing the edge of a pale blue gown, then drifting to a white dress with silver embroidery, then to a dark cloak with delicate detailing.
She said nothing. But she could not hide the light in her eyes, either.
And without realizing it, I bought quite a lot.
Too much, perhaps.
"Is... Is this not too many?" Veralyn asked. Her eyes moved to the pile of bags I was holding in both hands.
"It is fine," I answered, adjusting my grip on the bags in my left hand, which were starting to feel heavy.
Veralyn seemed to want to say something more, but ultimately held herself back. She only lowered her head slightly, and I could see her fingers gently touch one of the bags containing a light blue gown, the one she had gazed at the longest.
She looked happy. Not the kind of happiness shown through laughter or a wide smile. But happy in her own way. Her steps were a little lighter. Her eyes a little more alive. And every so often, her fingers brushed the fabric inside the bag as though making sure all of this was real.
I still remembered the description from the game. Veralyn was born into an important noble family, but her mother was nothing more than a maid. An unwanted child. Despite bearing the Silvercrown name, she had never been treated as an equal to her siblings. The clothes she wore were always hand-me-downs from her older sister, mended and adjusted to fit, but never truly her own.
She had never owned clothes that she had chosen for herself.
Until today.
"You look very happy," I said.
Veralyn turned to me at once. The moment she realized her expression had been read, something shifted in her face. The light in her eyes dimmed slightly, as though she had been caught doing something embarrassing.
"I apologize," she said, her voice returning to its usual flatness. "I have always wanted to wear clothes as lovely as these. I only ever had gowns passed down from my older sister."
The sentence was delivered in the same tone she might use to state an ordinary fact. Without seeking sympathy. Without expecting pity. And it was precisely because of that that my chest felt a little heavy.
A woman who had forced herself to be perfect in every regard, who had mastered advanced magic and memorized the entire body of royal law, who had carried the burden of a noble family name on her shoulders for years on end, was still a woman who wanted to own something beautiful for herself.
Without realizing it, I smiled.
But a second later, I caught myself.
Remember, you are a mysterious NPC. Mysterious NPCs do not smile in the middle of the street just because they watched a woman enjoy shopping for clothes. Stay dignified. Stay mysterious.
I pulled my expression back and put on my serious face.
"Come," I said in the even tone I had practiced for years, "there are still a few more floors we have not seen."
Veralyn glanced at me for a moment, then nodded.
And we continued walking side by side through the bustling corridors of Crescentia Grand Emporium, me with my counterfeit serious expression, and her with a small happiness she was trying to conceal.