Chapter 28 #2
W-what is that question and how am I supposed to answer it?
I open my mouth but she cuts me off before I can say anything.
“I probably should have seen it from the first. Perhaps I did see it but could not trust it,” she says, mostly to herself.
I don’t really understand what she means, but the moment she smiles at me, I realize I don’t need to understand.
I just need to gaze at her and admire her. So that’s exactly what I do.
She finally eats the third cake, but this time she’s slower with it, as if she’s savoring every bite. I am, too, savoring every moment.
Until…
My body tenses. The hairs on my body suddenly stand up. We’re being watched. Or, I’m being watched.
At first, I don’t trust my reaction. But a few moments later I start rationalizing what my body is telling me.
There is someone three tables behind Moe.
He has a hat low on his face, hiding his features.
He’s sitting half turned toward us. To the passing gaze, it would seem he’s in his own world, enjoying his cake.
But I saw him when we sat down. He took a bite and spit it out.
I thought it odd then, but didn’t think much of it.
But he has not left, nor has he tried to eat more.
Instead, he’s been shifting in his seat, every now and then looking directly in our direction.
Like he’s doing now.
“Is there a washroom in here?” Moe asks in a whisper.
“There should be one by the shop. Here.” I pull out some coins. “In case they require payment.”
She presses her lips together at the sight of money but she ends up taking it without protest. When she’s out of sight, I stand up and go directly to the strange man.
“Do you happen to know what the time is? I left my watch at home.” I smile brightly at him.
He barely looks at me, instead keeping his head down, his features still obstructed by his cap.
“Eleven,” he mutters in a low voice—one that’s clearly altered.
“Thank you,” I reply. “If you’re not eating the cakes, would you mind if I buy them off you?” I ask and point to his box of nine remaining untouched cakes.
He’s surprised by my question. I don’t know what I expect him to do—state his price or perhaps tell me off for my daring ask—but instead he simply gets up, pushes the box toward me and scurries out of the area.
I blink. That is unexpected. But it does give me more insight into the individual.
He bought ten cakes. Six of them cost me a whopping twenty-five slova so ten should have been close to forty.
That is a fortune for most people. So whoever he is, he can afford to just toss forty slova for no reason.
Is it Mother? Has she found me out? No, she wouldn’t send just one mere scout.
She would come out blazing, ready to kill me with her own hands.
Am I being a little too paranoid?
Perhaps it’s because the mission last night was a bit odd that now I’m overthinking things a little too much. Perhaps…
Moe soon returns, her cheeks flushed.
“Uhm, Nyk?”
I quickly explain the presence of the new cakes to her, but to my surprise she doesn’t even pay attention to that.
“I have something to ask of you—” she continues, a little jittery.
“Anything,” I say eagerly.
“I have to buy some… female products from the Mortal District. Could we please make a detour there before going home?”
I frown. Why would she be so apprehensive about such a matter?
“Of course we can. Let’s go.”
She beams at me. Placing both boxes in a bag, I take her arm and we head toward the Mortal District.
All the while, my mind goes over what those feminine products might be.
And after some deliberation, I arrive at the most sensible conclusion: makeup.
Females love makeup, do they not? And that is a feminine product.
I haven’t seen Moe wearing makeup until now, but perhaps she just hasn’t had the opportunity to do so?
What if she…
I pull at my sweater, suddenly a bit warm.
What if she wants to put on makeup for me?
I’m somewhat familiar with the Mortal District but I’ve never seen the store she brings me to. In big letters, the heading states: Female-Apothecary. That makes me pause. Would a so-called apothecary carry makeup? Then again, I don’t know where one would buy makeup so…
“Wait for me here? I’ll be right back.”
I nod and she goes inside.
The moment I find myself alone, my ludicrous imagination takes over again. What if she was so impressed with this date that she wants to impress me in return? Not that she would need to try since she already does that by simply existing. But if she did put in some effort for me…
It’s cold out but I’m already sweating. Just thinking of Moe buying herself some feminine products, perhaps some cute hair accessories, to get my attention.
I press my hand over my face. By the Seven! This is not what I should be thinking about! In fact, I need to find a way to control my mind and my body, otherwise I will be living in a constant state of arousal—and delusion.
A loud noise erupts from within the store, startling me out of my thoughts. It’s followed by raised voices and the sound of things being thrown around.
What?
Just thinking Moe might be in danger—that she might have encountered some ruffian—makes my blood boil with fear. I barge inside the store, ready to wage war.
The image in front of me stops me in my tracks. What was fear before turns into bright red anger.
There is a crowd of people, all surrounding a few individuals who have taken the center stage of the store. A young male and an older female are looking down at the female kneeling in front of them.
Moe.
Her head is bent low, tears coursing down her cheeks. She’s clutching a pack of bandages in her hands. All around her on the ground are items strewn around haphazardly, which have clearly been thrown at her.
“You ungrateful wretch!” The older female yells. “How dare you show your face here after what you’ve done?”
I push my way through the crowd of onlookers and reach Moe’s side. Grabbing her shoulders, I pull her to her feet. She looks up, surprise flickering over her features.
“Nyk,” she whispers.
“Get up,” I tell her sternly. Draping my arm over her shoulders, I pull her close as I turn my gaze to the loud individuals with a death wish. Yet to my surprise, I do recognize one of them. It’s her brother.
He’s probably a few years younger than her. The signs of youth are still evident in his face, though he pumps up his posture to give off an air of sophistication. My lip curls in distaste.
If that’s her brother then the older female should be her mother.
“We are leaving.” Otherwise I might kill someone, but I cannot say that. Even worse, killing a human might land me in legal trouble, which I’d rather avoid.
Her eyes are wide with shock at seeing me, but instead of letting her know that her daughter is not only well cared for but that she now has someone to protect her, she assumes the worst.
“So that’s why you have the guts to show your face here,” her mother sneers. “You found yourself someone better to whore yourself to. You abandoned your family, you ungrateful bitch!”
“Madam, please watch your language,” I grit out. The more she speaks, the less I’m able to control myself, legal consequences be damned!
Moe notices my clenched fist and she covers my hand with her soft one. She looks up at me, her eyes pleading with me.
“Why should I watch my language when I’m speaking the truth?” Her mother cries out. “Everyone here knows it!” She points to the people around who quickly nod, the whispers amongst them becoming louder.
“She’d rather whore herself to a stranger than help her family in times of need. Where is her filial piety?”
“Filial piety? You dare speak about filial piety?” I snarl. “You who sold your own daughter!” I point at her. “You,” —I point to her brother—“who stood by while your sister was bartered off for your future! How can any of you speak of filial piety when you were the first to sell your own blood.”
“T-that… How dare you!” The female screams.
“I dare, just like that.” I smirk at her. “In fact, I should thank you for being so greedy and shortsighted. You gave up a gem, and I am a lucky bastard for finding it. But make no mistake, I will not allow you to ever insult her again.”
“W-what?” She sputters. “Who are you to—” Turning to her son, she commands, “Tyrone, do something! Don’t allow him to speak to us this way!”
The young male seems conflicted, but it’s clear he’s never once said no to his mother before. He moves to strike me, but it’s entirely too easy to parry his fist and send him flying with one arm. My lips curl up. Perhaps I’m slowly gaining some strength from the Zantrax, too.
“You may try again,” I address him with a chuckle.
“But be ready to bear the consequences of attempted harm toward an immortal.” While mortals are protected against immortals, the opposite stands true as well.
Not because mortals might be able to cause any harm, but because they need to know their place in society—at the bottom.
Their faces immediately pale. Everyone else around takes five steps back; with most of them electing to simply leave altogether. In a matter of seconds, the store is almost empty.
“W-what are you talking about?” The female mumbles, looking from Moe to me.
“From now on, if you ever see Moe, you shut up and walk the other way. Am I clear?”
She opens her mouth to argue but her son whispers something in her ear. Eventually she nods.
“And you—” I turn to Moe’s brother. “How can you call yourself a man when you allowed your sister to be sold off? You should be ashamed of yourself.” He has the shame to look away.
“Come on. Let’s go.” I hug Moe closer and exit the store.
She’s still shell-shocked, and for moments on end, she doesn’t speak.
It’s only when we arrive back home that she looks at me, tears still in her eyes.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “I—”
“Don’t! You don’t have to thank me for anything Moe.”
“You defended me,” she says between sobs. “I just froze. I didn’t know how to reply to everything she was saying and—” She takes a deep breath. “I never expected them to hate me so much.” The last words are barely above a whisper.
“Moe… Come here.” I open my arms for her and she flies straight into my embrace. “I’m so sorry you had to hear that. You know none of it is true, right?”
“Yes, I know. It just… It still hurts.”
“I know. I know,” I murmur as I pat her back.
We stay like that for what feels like an eternity and I enjoy the mere feel of her in my arms. It’s only when her sobs have subsided and she’s regained her calm that I reluctantly let her go.
“You should have told me you needed more bandages,” I suddenly say and point to the pack she’d bought. “I would have bought more. I’m sure there are other stores that sell them.”
Although it does warm my heart that she’d want to purchase bandages for me by herself, with her own money. She’s too sweet.
Her mouth drops open as she stares at me wide-eyed.
“T-they’re not b-bandages,” she whispers.
“Huh?” I frown.
“They’re feminine products,” she adds in a low voice.
“Feminine bandages?” I frown again, even more confused. “How are female bandages different than male ones?”
But then it dawns on me. Perhaps they’re not for me, but for her. I wrinkle my nose and scent the air.
“You smell of blood,” I grit out. “Did they hurt you? They did, didn’t they.”
Perhaps a few months of jail are worth for killing those two cockroaches.
“They’re not bandages!” She raises her voice slightly just as her cheeks turn a bright shade of red. “They’re menstruation pads!” She says quickly before running to her room.
And I’m left standing there befuddled. Menstruation pads, I repeat to myself, slow to realize what she means.
Blood. She’s bleeding. But not from any wound.
My own cheeks become tinted red.
I’m such an idiot!