The streets of the city gradually widened and grew livelier as Astar and Lukaris made their way toward the main square. The warm glow of memoria-infused lanterns softly lit their path, casting a peaceful atmosphere around them. The people of Thorin continued their evening routines: some merchants were closing up their stalls, while groups of locals headed toward taverns or made their way home.

  When they stepped into the main square, Astar was met with a breathtaking sight that made him stop in his tracks. Rising at the center of the plaza stood the Temple of Memoria—a structure impossible to miss.

  It was massive, snow-white, with tall spires reaching into the sky. Its polished stone facade gleamed in the light of the setting sun. Large stained glass windows depicted swirling streams of energy, almost alive, weaving through the images of figures below.

  But what caught the eye most was the central symbol above the entrance. Forged from silvery metal, it formed a graceful spiral—like a vortex in motion. At its center, a blue crystal pulsed with a soft light, as if its glow nourished the entire square with its energy.

  Astar stood silently for a moment, struggling to find words. The temple was clearly more than a religious or administrative building. Its architecture evoked the grandeur of Earth’s Gothic cathedrals—except here, instead of a cross, it was the vortex that reigned supreme, the symbol of faith and power in this world.

  “Amazing…” Astar said quietly, not even realizing he’d spoken aloud.

  Lukaris, noticing his awe, smiled faintly and clapped him on the shoulder.

  “Impressive, huh?” he said proudly. “This, my friend, is the heart of any city—the Temple of Memoria. This is where the altar stands—the one that sustains the barrier. And that vortex? That’s the symbol of the Source of Memoria, the place where all our souls were born.”

  Astar shifted his gaze to Lukaris, though his thoughts still lingered on the sight before him.

  “It really does resemble the cathedrals of Earth,” he muttered, eyes drifting back to the stained glass.

  “What?” Lukaris asked, giving him a puzzled look.

  “Uh,” Astar hesitated, realizing he couldn’t talk about another world, “I mean… it just looks so grand. Like something built to outlast the ages.”

  “That’s because it is,” Lukaris nodded. “These temples are made from a special kind of stone that absorbs memoria from the surrounding environment. It’s not just a building—it’s a kind of artifact. The barrier protecting the city is powered not only by cores and other resources but also by the memoria infused into the church’s very walls.”

  Astar nodded, still studying the structure.

  “Considering that any living being who reaches the Premarch stage can see that vortex… it’s no wonder it became the central symbol of faith in this world,” he mused silently.

  The temple’s architecture stood in stark contrast to the rest of the city. Even that, he realized, was part of the Church’s message. The Church of Memoria spared no resources to ensure that even in the smallest towns, no one forgot who truly held the greatest power on the continent.

  “I’d love to see the interior… but maybe I shouldn’t push my luck just yet,” he thought, shaking his head.

  “All right, don’t just stand there like a statue,” Lukaris said, striding ahead. “My sister and the others are waiting somewhere around here. The night’s just getting started, and we’ve got plenty to do!”

  Astar took one last look at the temple, as if trying to imprint every detail into memory, then followed after Lukaris.

  They had only taken a few steps when a familiar voice called from behind:

  “Lukaris! Astar!”

  They turned at once and saw Sirael approaching at a brisk pace. Zunar and the rest of their group followed close behind. But something about their expressions immediately caught Astar’s attention. They looked… a little stunned, some even bewildered.

  Sirael—who usually kept a composed, unreadable face—suddenly froze in place as she drew near. Her eyes widened, and a faint blush touched her cheeks. She scanned Astar from head to toe, lingering on his face and figure, as if at a loss for words.

  “You…” she began, then faltered for a moment. She cleared her throat lightly and continued, “You look… completely different. I mean, you look… excellent.”

  Her words were unexpectedly soft, and even her voice had a quieter, gentler tone than usual.

  The rest of the group eyed Astar curiously. Even Zunar, typically reserved and focused, raised an eyebrow—almost as if he were seeing a completely different person.

  “Well, I’ll be…” one of the warriors muttered, unable to hide his surprise. “Is that really the same forest vagabond?”

  Lukaris, noticing the general reaction, broke into a wide grin.

  “Well? Impressive, right?” he said, giving Astar a hearty slap on the back. “Told you all he’d turn into something decent if you just washed him and dressed him properly.”

  Astar couldn’t help but smile as he observed their reactions. He even felt a bit embarrassed by all the attention, though he tried not to let it show.

  “Well... I’m just glad you still recognized me,” he said, looking at Sirael with a chuckle. “Seems like hot water and new clothes really can work miracles.”

  Sirael straightened, as if trying to reclaim her usual composure.

  “Not just miracles,” she replied, her gaze lingering on him, clearly flustered. “Now you look... unexpectedly good. I mean... I wouldn’t be surprised if you turned out to be from some noble bloodline.”

  Lukaris burst out laughing.

  “Oh, Astar, looks like you’ve impressed my sister again! That’s a rare thing,” he said, turning to the others with a triumphant expression. “What do you think, folks?”

  “Too impressive, honestly,” one of the warriors added with a slight smirk. “With that strength and that ‘clean-cut’ look, there’s no way anyone’s calling him a vagabond now.”

  Sirael listened to the teasing without reacting. Instead, she calmly stepped forward toward Astar. Her face had regained its usual serious expression, but the faint blush on her cheeks hadn’t completely faded.

  “Here’s your share,” she said, handing Astar a small pouch made of sturdy fabric. “We sold the core from that abyssal we killed on the road here. Managed to get thirty-five gray coins for it.”

  Astar raised his eyebrows in surprise as he took the pouch into his hands. He felt the pleasant weight of the coins and heard the soft clink inside.

  “That’s more than I expected,” he said, lifting his gaze to Sirael. “Are you sure?”

  Sirael lifted her chin slightly, her words simple but carrying a subtle undercurrent of something more.

  “Don’t ask stupid questions,” she said with a slight scoff, crossing her arms.

  She paused, as if to give her words extra weight.

  “Fifteen coins are yours,” she added. “It’s fair.”

  Lukaris, standing a little off to the side, burst into laughter, clearly enjoying the moment.

  “Astar, I think my sister’s taken a liking to you,” he teased. “We come from a family of merchants—normally, my sister wouldn’t give away a single coin. But here—fifteen?! That’s unheard of!”

  Sirael shot her brother a cold look, silencing him instantly—though the grin never left his face.

  “Your personality can be quite grating, Lukaris,” she said calmly, like she was speaking to a child. “And if you don’t stop with the nonsense right now, I’ll send father an itemized report of your spending—every last coin on alcohol and women during this trip.”

  “All right, all right!” Lukaris threw his hands up in mock surrender. “You’re ruthless, sis.”

  Astar, watching their exchange, stifled a laugh. Then he looked down at the pouch in his hands.

  “Even if Sirael does like me, this isn’t the time to react to something that delicate. A misstep could ruin my relationship with all of them... Best to pretend I don’t notice anything.” He knew better than to respond to Lukaris’s teasing. As long as he stayed quiet, he remained safe and neutral.

  “Thank you,” he said, nodding to Sirael. “Now I not only have new clothes, but money of my own. I really appreciate it.”

  Sirael nodded, her expression softening slightly.

  Astar looked at the pouch in his hands, then suddenly turned to Lukaris.

  “And the first thing I’ll do… is pay back my debt!” he said with a smirk, holding out the pouch. “Take what you need for the clothes and the bathhouse. You covered it, so go ahead.”

  Lukaris raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. He stepped up to Astar and—before Astar could react—smacked him hard on the back.

  “Are you kidding me?!” Lukaris exclaimed with a wide grin. “That was a gift, Astar! You don’t pay back gifts! Among us Noxuli, that’s bad manners!”

  Astar, staggering slightly from the unexpected blow, narrowed his eyes playfully.

  “But you kept going on and on about that debt...” he said theatrically. He already suspected the money hadn’t been a big deal to his new friend. Still, he didn’t want to come off as rude or ungrateful.

  “I was joking!” Lukaris laughed. “You seriously thought I’d charge you for clothes or a bath? Come on, man. It was a gift! And if you try to return it, you’ll be insulting me—and my whole family,” he added, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense.

  Astar smiled and shook his head.

  “So all your endless talk about ‘debt’ was just part of your performance?”

  “Absolutely!” Lukaris confirmed proudly. “So relax and use those coins to treat yourself to something nice. A drink, maybe. Or—who knows—treat the people who helped you…”

  “Huh, so you were hoping I’d buy you something,” Astar teased, smirking.

  “Well, since you brought it up…” Lukaris replied without missing a beat, flashing a wide grin.

  Sirael, watching their exchange, let out an unimpressed huff.

  “Sometimes, the two of you remind me of children…” she said, and after a brief pause, added, “We’ll pay for the tavern, Lukaris. Everyone in our group is responsible for our protection, and we’re responsible for their well-being. In the event of a fight, Astar will be involved too—so we won’t be charging him for food.”

  Her words were firm, and Lukaris only smiled. Clearly, he’d expected that response from his sister.

  After exchanging a few more words, they headed toward the tavern the locals had recommended. The place was called The Song of the Ancient Winds—a melodic and tempting name. It was located near the eastern part of the city, where the streets were a little wider and the buildings more refined.

  From afar, they could already see the two-story building with broad windows glowing warmly from within. Laughter, lively chatter, and music floated out to meet them. A wooden sign hung above the entrance, adorned with carvings of a dancing wind, beneath which the tavern’s name was engraved.

  “Now this is more like it!” Lukaris declared, throwing the doors open. “A place that promises a night to remember!”

  As soon as they stepped inside, they were wrapped in a warm, vibrant atmosphere. The entire interior was made from light-colored wood, giving the space a welcoming, cheerful feel. The large room was filled with tables, most of them occupied. Patrons were eating, laughing, clinking cups in toasts. In one corner, musicians played unusual string and wind instruments, crafting a rhythm that made your feet want to move on their own.

  The scent of food and alcohol hung in the air, mingling with the aroma of fresh wood and herbs—likely used to cleanse the space. Astar paused for a moment, letting his gaze wander across the hall.

  “This atmosphere... it reminds me of the Wunderbar,” he thought suddenly, “the one I used to visit with James.” So many days had passed since then, but memories of his best friend suddenly rushed back. The coziness, the laughter, the friendly hum of conversation—it was something he hadn’t felt in a long time. But here, standing in this place, Astar felt something like it again.

  “What’s wrong, Astar?” Lukaris asked, noticing the far-off look in his eyes. “You’ve got that expression like you’ve just come home after a long journey.”

  Astar gave a faint smile and shrugged.

  “Something like that… It just feels like I’ve been in a place like this before.”

  “Well then, let’s not waste time!” Lukaris announced, already making his way to a large empty table in the corner. “Let’s claim it before someone else does.”

  The group followed him. As soon as they sat down, a young waitress approached with a friendly smile.

  “Welcome to The Song of the Ancient Winds! What can I get for you?” she asked, handing out menus written in elegant, flowing script.

  “Food and drinks for everyone,” Lukaris said immediately, leaning back comfortably in his chair. “Tonight should be perfect. And please—bring something special from your kitchen to surprise my friend here,” he added, nodding toward Astar.

  The waitress looked slightly surprised, casting a glance at Astar—who was the only Human among a dozen Noxuli.

  “Of course, sir,” she said cheerfully, then hurried off toward the bar.

  Sirael leaned back in her chair, watching the scene unfold. Her face remained composed, but something warm flickered in her eyes.

  “You really do look like someone from high society,” she remarked, addressing Astar. “And I hadn’t noticed before—your hair has a violet tint.”

  “His hair was so dirty, I could’ve been blond and people still would’ve thought I was a brunette,” Astar replied with a laugh.

  Lukaris spread his arms wide, as if trying to embrace the whole world, and gave a proud nod.

  “Am I not a master at revealing the best in people? Look at you now—clean, well-groomed, dressed like a noble. All thanks to me!”

  “And thanks to the bathhouse, hot water, and new clothes,” Astar added with light sarcasm. “But of course, your contributions to the process were absolutely indispensable.”

  Sirael, sitting across from them, rolled her eyes.

  “Lukaris, you know perfectly well it was me who insisted we help Astar. If I hadn’t reminded you, you’d have forgotten, and he’d still be walking around in those rags.”

  “Oh, sister, why must you ruin my legend?” Lukaris sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “You know every artist needs inspiration, and your interference merely nudged me in the right direction.”

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Ignoring his usual theatrics, Sirael turned her attention to Astar.

  “At the very least, now you can begin a new path without constantly looking back,” she said. “In this world, appearance carries nearly as much weight as inner strength.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Astar nodded. “Though I still believe power matters more in my case. Without it, I wouldn’t have made it out of that damned forest.”

  “That’s true,” she admitted, frowning slightly, “but you shouldn’t underestimate how others perceive you. And judging by the looks you’re getting… it might just be an advantage.”

  Just then, the waitress returned, carrying a tray full of drinks and appetizers. She quickly and skillfully laid everything out on the table, and after casting Astar another brief glance, gave him a small, friendly smile.

  “See?” Lukaris whispered, leaning in toward Astar. “As soon as we finish eating, we’re going to find that girl and her friends. Success guaranteed.”

  Hearing this, Astar ignored the comment and glanced around at the Noxuli before picking up a glass of frothy drink.

  “Let’s have a toast while we wait for the main dishes,” he suggested with a smile.

  Lukaris had a talent for stirring up chaos, and Astar had already learned how to balance him—sometimes by ignoring his remarks, smoothing things over, or steering the conversation elsewhere.

  “First you're trying to pair me with your sister, and now you're talking about chasing girls… Maybe think a little, Lukaris…” Astar thought with mild exasperation.

  Everyone, including Sirael and Zunar, raised their glasses in response to Astar’s proposal. Lukaris was quick to add:

  “To my new friend, Astar! And to safe roads ahead!” he declared, clinking glasses cheerfully with everyone.

  The clinking of glasses blended with the tavern’s lively background noise, and the drink turned out to be surprisingly pleasant—light and refreshing, with subtle notes of berries and herbs. Astar took his first sip, feeling a wave of warmth spread through his body, washing away the last traces of tension still lingering after the bath.

  The evening was slowly coming to life. After a few more toasts and shared jokes, the group fully relaxed. Conversation flowed easily now, as if they’d known each other for years.

  Unexpectedly, Zunar opened up and began telling amusing tales from his travels. Before working for the Tenebris family, he had been a mercenary in the Noxuli lands. The whole table burst into laughter, and Lukaris exclaimed:

  “That’s why I always say Zunar’s our best guard! Even if he’s a bit too quiet sometimes.”

  “I don’t need to talk much,” Zunar replied calmly, shooting a meaningful glance at Sirael’s brother. “Unlike someone who’s always trying to impress every new girl he meets.”

  Lukaris immediately began to protest, claiming it wasn’t like that, and he was only keeping boredom at bay during travel.

  Astar watched the exchange, feeling unexpectedly at home. Despite being the only Human among a group of Noxuli, he truly felt like part of this little circle. He couldn’t point to any major differences between them—aside from appearances, of course.

  When the waitress returned with a large tray of steaming dishes, the evening shifted into another gear. The food looked incredible: golden-roasted meats, vegetables steamed with fragrant spices, and strange round rolls that glowed faintly in the dim light, as if infused with memoria.

  “And here comes the main event!” Lukaris declared joyfully, pouring everyone a second round. “Our mission now is to try everything and not end up under the table before midnight!”

  “Looking at you, I’m sure you’ll outlast everyone,” Astar said with a grin, tearing one of the glowing rolls in half. Inside, it was soft and warm, with an unusual taste that reminded him of honey and spice.

  “Of course I will,” Lukaris winked. “But you—I’m still not sure about. Let’s see how that human body of yours holds up…”

  “We’ll see,” Astar replied calmly.

  The evening continued to warm, both in atmosphere and spirit. Laughter and conversation around their table blended with the general merriment of the tavern. For the first time in what felt like ages, Astar allowed himself to simply enjoy the moment—without thinking about what lay ahead.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Two hours later, everyone was finally full and fairly tipsy. The conversations had slowed, and even Lukaris had quieted down a bit, leaning back in his chair with a contented look on his face. Sirael, as always, remained composed. She signaled the waitress to settle the bill.

  “Here,” she said, handing over a small pouch of coins. “Thank you for the service.”

  The waitress nodded with a smile and quickly departed, taking the tray of empty dishes with her.

  “Well then, time to get moving,” Sirael said as she stood up. “We need a good night’s rest. We’re back on the road tomorrow.”

  The group rose from their seats, albeit a little reluctantly. Lukaris, however, lingered, clearly not eager to leave. His eyes scanned the tavern, as if searching for something—or someone.

  “Lukaris, are you coming?” Sirael asked sharply, already heading for the exit.

  “Yeah, yeah, just… one moment!” he replied with suspicious urgency.

  And right at that moment, the tavern doors swung open, and three girls stepped inside. Among them was the blue-haired beauty they had encountered earlier that day. This time, she wore a light green dress with golden embroidery that shimmered in the lamplight. Beside her were two others—one with chestnut hair and the other a striking redhead. All three looked stunning, drawing glances from many of the tavern’s male patrons.

  Lukaris immediately perked up. He turned to Astar with a wide grin, as if the gods themselves had answered his prayers.

  “Friend, we’re staying a little longer,” he whispered with a wink.

  Before anyone could stop him, he turned and marched straight toward the girls.

  “Lovely lady! This must be fate!” he began with his most charming expression. “How wonderful to see you again. I hope your day was as delightful as you look right now.”

  The blue-haired girl recognized him and smiled faintly.

  “Oh, it’s you. And where’s your friend?” she asked with interest. “He promised me a dramatic transformation.”

  Lukaris spun around theatrically, gesturing to Astar.

  “There he is! Isn’t he magnificent?” he proclaimed, as if unveiling a masterpiece. “A complete transformation! Just look what a hot spring and a fresh outfit can do to a man.”

  The blue-haired girl narrowed her eyes, studying Astar intently. Her companions, who had apparently heard about the strange encounter earlier, also turned their attention to him. For a moment, they froze, stunned by the change.

  “That’s… him?” the redhead whispered in disbelief, her hand lightly covering her mouth.

  “No way,” the other added, eyes wide. “You said he looked like a vagrant… But now…”

  The blue-haired girl returned her gaze to Astar, and in her eyes shimmered something new—something close to admiration. Her lips parted slightly, as if she were about to speak, but then stopped, clearly taking in just how much he had changed. Now, with his jet-black hair tinged with violet neatly tied back, and his new clothes accentuating his sculpted figure, he didn’t just look clean—he looked refined. But what truly made the difference was his aura: strong, calm, and commanding—drawing attention even in silence.

  “I must admit,” she finally said, lifting her chin slightly, “he looks entirely different now. You’ve genuinely managed to surprise me…”

  A quiet but unmistakable huff came from behind. Sirael stood a little apart, arms crossed, watching the exchange intently. There was a faint shadow of displeasure in her eyes, though she tried not to let it show too much.

  “Astar,” she suddenly addressed him. Her voice carried a note of weariness, as if the request she was about to make demanded more patience than she had to spare. “Could you… keep an eye on my brother?”

  Astar turned, raising an eyebrow, caught off guard by her tone. She stepped closer, glancing toward Lukaris, who was now fully immersed in conversation with the girls, flashing his signature grin with every witty remark.

  “We need rest if we’re going to be sharp tomorrow,” she continued. “But if he starts bouncing around from tavern to tavern causing trouble… it’ll affect all of us.”

  Astar smiled softly, sensing that beneath Sirael’s exasperation lay genuine concern for her brother.

  “Don’t worry,” Astar replied. “I’ll keep an eye on him. I’ll do my best to make sure the evening goes smoothly.”

  Sirael looked at him carefully and gave a small, grateful smile. Then she hesitated slightly before adding:

  “Thank you,” she said simply. “Just… don’t take after my brother. Tavern girls… usually aren’t the most virtuous.”

  She turned, and the rest of the group followed her out of the tavern, leaving Astar and Lukaris behind.

  Watching them go, Astar shifted his attention back to Lukaris, who was now in the middle of joking with the girls.

  With a slight smile, Astar stepped forward and made his way toward them. “Sorry, Sirael, but I wouldn’t say I’m hoping for their virtue… It’s been far too long since I spent an evening with a girl,” he thought, remembering the date with the brunette he never got to go on.

  “When I sold the company, I thought I’d finally take time to enjoy life a little… Maybe now’s the right time?” he mused, smiling.

  He approached calmly, making sure not to draw too much attention to his arrival. He watched as Lukaris bantered energetically with the girls, who laughed in response but seemed just slightly overwhelmed by his energy. The blue-haired girl stood a little off to the side, smiling politely, her gaze occasionally flicking toward Astar as he approached.

  “Alright then, time to bring a little order to this chaos,” he thought as he reached them.

  “Good evening,” Astar said, his voice soft but confident. “I see Lukaris has already charmed everyone, but I’m afraid he might forget to introduce me. My name is Astar.”

  The blue-haired girl feigned surprise at his arrival, though she’d clearly been sneaking glances at him moments before. She returned his greeting with a gentle smile.

  “Elara. And these are my friends—Lina and Keira,” she said, gesturing to the girls beside her. “It seems you weren’t lying about surviving the wilds. The transformation is… dramatic.”

  “Elara, Lina, Keira,” Astar repeated, offering a slight bow. “A pleasure to meet you. I must say, the three of you have brought a special light to this evening. Your dresses and smiles have quite literally brightened up the tavern.”

  Lina, the redhead, blushed a little, but smiled quickly.

  “Oh, thank you. That’s unexpectedly sweet,” she said, playfully brushing her hair back.

  Keira, with chestnut curls, crossed her arms—but the smile on her lips betrayed that she too had liked the compliment.

  “Seems like you two know how to win girls over. Long history of practice?” she teased, a playful edge in her tone.

  Elara, who had been observing him closely, softened even more. She was clearly drawn to not just Astar’s confidence, but how naturally he carried himself in the moment.

  Astar noticed the change and thought to himself: “Well, I guess all that time with James wasn’t for nothing. Those nights at the pub, chatting up strangers and teasing each other… it’s muscle memory now. And to be honest, these girls seem a lot less demanding than the ones back on Earth…”

  “Experience has nothing to do with it,” Astar continued, now looking directly at Elara. “It’s just that when a man sees beauty like this… all his rough edges tend to vanish.”

  This time, Elara’s blue eyes sparkled, and a slow, alluring smile curled on her lips—one that said more than words ever could. She knew the compliments were part of the game, but it was a game she wanted to play.

  “She definitely likes me,” Astar thought, feeling that unmistakable spark—the mutual pull of attraction—and a warm thrill rising in his chest that made it hard not to smile.

  The girls laughed, the sound light and genuine, as if Astar and Lukaris really had brightened their night. Elara glanced at her friends and shrugged lightly.

  “Well then, since you’re being so persistent… I suppose we won’t say no. Why not share a drink? You both do look… interesting.”

  “Agreed,” Keira added with a smirk. “You two don’t strike me as the type to waste time.”

  “Well, since we’re all here, let’s find a table,” Lina said, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear.

  Lukaris was already scanning for an open table when suddenly a new voice called out behind them:

  “Good evening, ladies. Careful not to choose too quickly—or you might mistake mud for gold, ha-ha.”

  They all turned around.

  A young man was approaching with a confident stride. He had long silver hair and striking green eyes. His outfit immediately drew attention—dark, finely woven fabric, a leather belt with a gleaming silver buckle, and a large, ornate ring on his finger. He looked like someone used to being admired.

  Behind him moved three men clad in the distinct white-and-blue robes of the Order of Wanderings and Trade—mercenaries whose light armor gleamed under the tavern lamps. Each of them wore the same crest on their chest: a stylized tower, identical to the ones used to mark danger levels along the roads.

  “Forgive the interruption,” the man said, sweeping the girls with a self-assured glance. “But perhaps you'd prefer to join me instead? I’ve got a fine table—and the best wine and snacks money can buy.”

  He paused, casting a pointed look of disdain toward Lukaris and Astar.

  “You’d be far better off with me than with these… unfortunate souls,” he added, nodding toward the pair. His tone dripped with open contempt. “Beauties like you shouldn’t be wasting time with paupers.”

  The Order mercenaries behind him smirked tightly, as if forced to play along with their employer’s arrogance.

  Elara narrowed her eyes, glancing from the newcomer to Lukaris and Astar. Lina and Keira, too, stiffened slightly but held their silence for now.

  “Excuse me,” Elara replied with a faint smile, though her voice was noticeably cool. “Do we know each other?”

  “Not yet,” he answered with a smug grin, giving a slight bow as if it were meant to earn trust. “But that’s easily remedied. I’m Vilar, en route to the Church of Memoria, where I intend to become an exorcist. And I must say—I have quite a promising chance at success,” he added proudly. “It would be a shame if such charming ladies wasted their evening on… beggars.”

  The bold declaration earned a few surprised glances—not just from the girls, but from onlookers nearby. Still, despite the prestige of his words, the women didn’t seem eager to rush to his table.

  Lukaris visibly tensed. His normally relaxed expression twisted into a grimace, and his fingers curled slightly into a fist. Vilar had clearly crossed a line, but Lukaris wasn’t blind—he saw the dozen or so Order mercenaries seated nearby. These men looked like seasoned fighters. Their armor and weapons weren’t for show—they had seen real battle.

  “Arrogant little whelp,” Lukaris swore mentally. His first instinct—to respond with a sharp remark and put the man in his place—quickly ran up against cold reality. “This Vilar isn’t someone you shut down with a joke and walk away from unscathed. Especially not on the road, where we don’t know who else he might be connected to. If he really does make it as an exorcist, this could get worse…”

  He shifted slightly and cast a quick glance at Astar, trying to gauge his reaction.

  Astar, sensing the tension and reading the frustration on Lukaris’s face, let a relaxed smile spread across his lips. Situations like this weren’t new to him—not back in the corporate world, where ego and ambition often clashed in boardrooms and banquets alike. Men like Vilar weren’t rare. Their arrogance demanded a certain finesse.

  “He needs to be humbled—but without offense. If I can twist the narrative just right, he’ll look foolish, and no one can blame me,” Astar thought swiftly.

  He stepped forward, raising the small coin pouch Sirael had given him earlier.

  “Look!” he called out clearly, drawing not just Vilar’s and the girls’ attention, but that of nearby patrons as well. “This is all I have. My entire fortune—fifteen gray coins!”

  Shock flickered across Vilar’s face before it twisted into a smug, mocking grin. But Astar continued as if he hadn’t noticed:

  “Just this morning, I was practically a beggar. I couldn’t afford lunch, and even these clothes—” he gestured to his fine outfit “—weren’t bought with my own money.”

  His voice rang with such calm confidence that Vilar began to falter, confused by his strange composure. Lukaris, too, felt a flicker of awkwardness, unsure where Astar was taking this.

  But then Astar shook the pouch, the clink of coins inside sharp in the silence.

  “These fifteen coins are everything I own. My only possessions. And I’m ready to spend every last one of them just to share an evening with ladies as beautiful as you,” he said, giving a graceful bow to the trio.

  Elara raised an eyebrow, and her friends exchanged curious glances. They understood that Astar was, in part, exaggerating—he wasn’t truly destitute, he had only just emerged from the forest that morning. But that only made the performance more intriguing.

  “To a rich man, who can offer you fine wines and fancy treats, entertaining you is a whim,” Astar continued, turning his gaze back to the women. “But for me—it’s everything I have.”

  His words rang with such heartfelt conviction that even the surrounding patrons, who had become silent spectators to the scene, nodded with quiet respect.

  Vilar, who had just been standing with a smug expression, visibly tensed. His face twitched, and his smile faltered slightly. Clearly, he hadn’t expected the situation to take this turn.

  Elara, watching Astar, couldn’t suppress a wide smile. There was a spark in her eyes—amused, entertained, and intrigued. It was a blend of brazenness, excitement, and unexpected admiration.

  To everyone’s surprise, the girls laughed—almost at the same time. Their laughter was genuine, bright, and just contagious enough to make nearby patrons turn their heads. Even Lina, who had seemed the most skeptical earlier, pressed a hand to her mouth, struggling to hold back a grin.

  Still smiling, Elara suddenly stepped forward, circling around Lukaris and moving to stand beside Astar. Then—to the astonishment of everyone—she slid closer and wrapped an arm around his waist, raising her gaze to meet Vilar’s. Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was also unwavering confidence in them.

  “You know, Vilar,” she began, her tone polite but crisp, “it’s not about money, or prestige, or who can offer more.”

  She gave Lukaris a brief glance—he was clearly fighting the urge to burst out laughing—and then looked to her friends. Lina and Keira were silently observing, their expressions saying, This is getting interesting...

  Elara turned back to Vilar and continued:

  “We agreed to spend the evening with them earlier today. If I were to join your table now, I’d make myself look rather foolish. That wouldn’t be very dignified, would it? Especially since tomorrow you’ll be gone, and I still live in this town.”

  She tilted her head slightly, a subtle signal that the conversation was over.

  “I wish you a pleasant evening, Vilar,” she added with a gentle smile. “May your journey be as grand as your ambitions. I’m sure you’ll make a fine exorcist! And thank you, sincerely, for your future service in protecting the continent of Mnemoris.”

  Not giving him a chance to respond, Elara took Astar’s hand, gently tugging him to follow her.

  “Let’s go,” she tossed over her shoulder to Lukaris and her friends.

  Lukaris, who had been barely containing his laughter, broke into a wide grin.

  “Absolutely—we’ve already stayed longer than necessary,” he said cheerfully, shooting one last glance toward Vilar.

  Keira and Lina exchanged looks, then quickly followed Elara and Astar as they headed toward the tavern’s exit.

  As the group moved toward the door, Astar noticed Vilar’s face twist with rage. His smug smile was gone, and his eyes flared with fury. Arms crossed, he stared at their retreating backs, as if unable to believe he’d just been so thoroughly dismissed.

  “Hah!” he scoffed loudly, drawing attention from several nearby patrons. “Bumpkins! You just don’t understand greatness.”

  His voice dripped with disdain, and his words radiated irritation. He stared after them, clearly hoping someone might turn back and acknowledge him.

  “Let beggars keep company with beggars,” he sneered, lifting his chin high in a final attempt to salvage some dignity.

  With that, he spat on the floor—eliciting a few murmurs from those still watching the scene unfold—then turned sharply and strode back toward his table, where his hired mercenaries exchanged uncomfortable glances, clearly uninterested in involving themselves.

  At the door, Lukaris paused, having heard Vilar’s parting words. He took a deep breath, visibly restraining himself, and muttered under his breath without turning around:

  “That guy’s going to get himself into trouble...”

  Astar smirked, shaking his head slightly.

  “Why waste energy on someone who can’t manage his own ego?” he said quietly as they continued walking.

  Elara pulled a little closer to him, still holding his waist, a pleased smile playing on her lips.

  “Don’t mind him,” she whispered, looking up at Astar. “People like that are quickly forgotten.”

  “And people like us leave unforgettable impressions,” he replied, leaning down slightly so only she could hear.

  Laughter burst from Lukaris and the others, echoing down the street as they stepped outside, leaving behind the heavy air Vilar had brought with him. The night breeze was cool and refreshing, washing away the last remnants of tension.

  “So,” Lukaris turned to the girls with a grin, “where to next? The night’s still young!”