After nearly two hours of browsing every floor of the Crescentia Grand Emporium, Veralyn finally began to look satisfied.
At last.
I had read in my previous life that a woman could spend hours upon hours inside a shopping center. At the time, I had thought it was an exaggeration. But now, standing here with both hands full of shopping bags and my back beginning to stiffen, I realized that those writings had not been exaggerating in the slightest.
Veralyn walked beside me toward the exit. Her steps were slightly lighter than when we had first entered. Every now and then, her fingers would brush one of the bags, as though confirming that all of this was real.
But as we stepped out of the building and were greeted once more by the warm air of the capital, her pace slowed. The expression that had been slightly brighter began to settle back into its usual composure, flat and controlled.
"Raymond," she said.
I turned.
"Thank you very much for all of this," she said. Her tone was formal, like someone making an official promise. "But it will likely take some time before I can repay you. I am still waiting for my registration at the guild."
My steps came to a halt.
"The guild?" I repeated. "You want to become a hunter?"
Veralyn gave a slight nod. "It is the fastest way to earn money for someone with magical ability."
I looked at her.
Logically, she was not wrong. The hunter's guild was a place where mages and fighters took on missions, ranging from hunting monsters and escorting merchants to exploring dungeons. The pay was substantial, and Veralyn's magical abilities were beyond question. On paper, she could even become one of the strongest hunters in the kingdom.
But I did not approve in the slightest.
"I do not agree with that," I said.
Veralyn raised her face. There was a faint surprise in her eyes, as though she had not expected me to refuse so directly.
"Why?" she asked. Her voice remained calm, but there was a slight sharpness to it. The sharpness of someone unaccustomed to being told no.
I was not her mother. Not her father. Not her family. I was nothing more than a commoner who happened to save her with money and a legal loophole. I had no right to forbid her from doing anything.
But my primary purpose in this second life was to ensure Veralyn's safety. I did not spend eighteen years preparing, did not pay a hundred gold coins, and did not challenge a prince before an entire hall just to let this woman walk into a forest and fight monsters.
Besides, I knew what happened in the game.
After being exiled from the kingdom, Veralyn became a hunter. And not just any hunter. She became one of the most famous. Her name echoed across the entire continent as a feared sorceress. But the path that brought her there was not one I wanted to see her walk a second time.
"Being a hunter is dangerous," I said. "Even experienced mages can die from a single small mistake in a dungeon."
Veralyn stared at me with an expression I could not quite read. Her brow furrowed slightly, and there was something in her eyes that resembled displeasure being held in check.
I understood why she reacted that way. Veralyn was a woman whose entire life had been focused on studying magic. All of her effort, all of her sacrifice, everything had centered on mastering advanced sorcery. To her, becoming a hunter was a logical step, a way to use the abilities she had honed for years. Telling her she should not become a hunter was the same as telling her that all of her efforts had been for nothing.
But I still could not allow it.
"I am not forbidding you from repaying all of this in the future," I said, choosing my words carefully. "But you also need to value your own life."
Veralyn fell silent.
"If you want a job," I continued, "I can arrange an administrative position for you at the guild. The pay is steady, and you would not need to risk your life to earn money. But that is only a suggestion."
Silence dropped between us.
Veralyn did not answer immediately. Her eyes stared straight ahead, toward the bustling streets of the capital.
"You are..." she said quietly, "very stubborn."
"I will take that as a compliment," I replied flatly.
Veralyn did not respond. But the tension in her shoulders eased slightly, and her gaze returned to the road ahead.
She had not said yes. But she had not said no, either.
For now, that was enough.
Not long after that, I heard something.
A soft sound coming from my right. Not footsteps. Not the wind. But a sound that was very specific and very human.
The sound of a hungry stomach.
I glanced at Veralyn from the corner of my eye.
Her face remained flat. Her posture remained upright. As though nothing had happened. Yet her ears had turned faintly red, and her eyes stared straight ahead with an intensity far too strong for a situation that only involved walking along a sidewalk.
I had to admit, it was rather amusing.
A magical genius, a prince's former fiancee, a woman whose aura could silence an entire room, had just been betrayed by her own stomach in the middle of the capital's streets.
But of course, I was a mysterious NPC. Mysterious NPCs do not laugh because they heard a woman's stomach growl. I held my expression perfectly.
"Hungry?" I said in my practiced calm tone. "I know a good place for that."
Veralyn did not answer with words. Her face was still flat, perhaps even flatter than usual, as though she were compensating for her embarrassment by doubling her composure. She simply gave a brief nod and followed my steps without question.
We walked past several blocks until we arrived at a two-story building situated at a crossroads near the central square. Its sign was made of carved wood, and from inside came the sound of lively conversation, a clear sign that this place was never short of customers.
It was indeed never short of customers. This was one of the most popular restaurants in the capital.
Veralyn stopped at the entrance and observed the crowd inside through the window.
"It is full," she said.
"No need to worry," I answered. "This place usually has tables reserved for special guests. High-ranking nobles, royal officials, and the like."
Veralyn turned to me. Something shifted in her gaze. Not surprise, but rather a conclusion slowly forming behind those pale eyes.
"So," she said softly, "you hold a position as remarkable as that."
I scratched the back of my head.
"I simply helped the owner of this place once," I replied lightly. "So you could say I have the right to come in here. Nothing special."
Veralyn looked at me for several seconds longer than was comfortable.
I had seen that look many times today. The look of someone stacking question upon question inside their head, yet choosing not to ask a single one.
The silver button on his collar. The shop attendant who suddenly bowed with respect. And now, access to a VIP table at the most popular restaurant in the capital.
I could imagine the list of theories she was assembling about who Raymond really was. Probably not too different from Serena's list.
"Let us go in," I said, pushing the door open. "Before your stomach protests again."
Veralyn opened her mouth, most likely to argue that her stomach had never made a sound, but ultimately closed it and stepped inside without a word.
Her ears were still slightly red.