Chapter 118 Unfamiliar Luxury

Words : 700 Updated : Sep 17th, 2025

*** {Outside The Projection} The moment the projection paused, the crowd burst into noise. "Man. Does. Not. Play!" "I swear on my ancestors, I thought that bitch was about to cut Madam Layla's throat!" "Yeah, but even back then our lady was the best haha!" "She's not a heroine that needs saving!" "Forget all that. Did you hear what she said? We nearly guessed everything correctly!" "And they almost got away with it. Imagine if it wasn't him they tried fooling." "Haha, I know..." While they went on and on, Layla stared at the projection, lost in thought. She barely heard the crowd. Barely felt their eyes on her. She was somewhere else. Somewhere in the past. It had been a quest. A little adventure. To do some good.@@@@ That was what she told herself. Save the kids. Deal with the kidnappers. Simple. But that wasn't the whole truth, was it? Layla wanted to help, yes, but if she was honest with herself... A selfish part of her—one she didn't want to admit existed—had been excited to go because of him. Malik. She wanted to see him in action, wanted to be close to him, to be involved in whatever crazy, impossible, and thrilling life he seemed to have lived. And what happened? Layla got exactly what she wished for. ...It terrified her. Back then, she had thought herself strong. Thought herself capable. But when it all came down to it... When blood was spilled... When the reality of life and death pressed against her throat... She froze. Malik hadn't. Malik blinked. That was not what he expected. He scratched his head. "Uh... no problem." And that was that. Malik grabbed a piece of bread and then headed straight for his room, too drained to stick around. Eating it while walking, he crashed onto the bed and was out before his head even fully hit the pillow. Morning came. They got up, packed their things, and made a final sweep through the market, picking up what they ordered yesterday. Fresh supplies, dried rations, waterskins—everything they'd need for the road ahead. Layla seemed... steadier. Maybe not completely okay, but she wasn't as shaken anymore. With their carts heavier, their pouches lighter, they regrouped with the caravan. The carriages were packed, the steeds were fed, and the path was mapped. With the first light of dawn warming their backs, they set off. From there, the journey stretched into days, weeks, then months. The road blurred into a never-ending cycle of dusty trails, campfires, and starry nights. One Thousand Nights moved steadily, passing through villages, trading goods, updating maps, and ensuring they had enough supplies to make it to the next stop. They, of course, involved themselves in the occasional quest, but none were too dangerous. Malik made sure of that. He couldn't risk her life; his curse was unreliable. In turn, that made everything feel a tad peaceful. Despite the occasional man he killed or the horde of monsters he annihilated. He had never lived like this before—never had the luxury of a somewhat predictable routine. It felt strange. Almost unnatural. And then there was Layla. From the moment they left the first village, she stuck to him like glue. If he was walking, she was right there. If he was sharpening his curved sword, she sat beside him, watching with wide, fascinated eyes. If he was eating, she'd take bites off his skewer like it was the most natural thing in the world. And if he was trying to relieve himself? She'd be nearby, standing guard—or at least, that was what she claimed. Malik had given up trying to shake her off. "Can't you bother someone else?" He grumbled one evening as she sat next to him, legs crossed, arms wrapped around her knees. "Nope. I might collapse from Malik deficiency." She rested her chin on her knees. "You're the most interesting person here. Plus, you're handsome... And I like you." Ali Baba snorted at that, passing by with a knowing look. Malik just sighed. Though... much to her frustration, she didn't always get him.

Chapter 118 Unfamiliar Luxury

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