Chapter 65: Shopping 2

Chapter 65: Shopping 2 They continued their exploration of the places, visiting several shops, looking at the beautiful places, and leaving strong rumors in their wake. The light had mellowed into a soft gold when the carriage finally came to a stop. A breathtaking view unfolded before them—rolling river water shimmering under the sun, reeds swaying in the wind, and the hush of nature cradling the entire scene like a secret. Kesha was the first to leap out, taking the lead as usual. Without so much as a grunt, she pulled out a folded cloth from her ring and flung it across the grass. It expanded, flawlessly pressed and elegant. Then came three chairs, conjured or cleverly packed, and a small table that looked far too expensive for the wilderness. She even had a tea set, jars of fruit, sugar-dusted confections, and warm bread wrapped in fine napkins. All laid out with the efficiency of a battlefield general, a beautiful battlefield general. "Sit, you two," she said sweetly, motioning like it was a royal order."You’ve walked enough, and I can’t let my future husband get tired because of something as boring as movement." Mozrael blinked. It was like watching an enchantment unfold- perfect placement, warm smells, and colors that felt handpicked to match the landscape. A soft breeze passed, making Kesha’s hair flutter just as she took a seat with a sigh, patting the chair beside her for Aramith. He hesitated. "If you don’t sit, I might cry." He sat after glancing around and realizing that Kesha might cause a scene. Mozrael sat too, but a little slower, her eyes lingering on the food like she wasn’t sure it was real, or edible. Then came the soft laughter, occasional teasing, and Kesha’s relentless, doting comments. She cut food for Aramith. Wiped a crumb from the corner of his mouth. Complimented how the breeze made his hair "look like poetry." He wasn’t too comfortable, but he could still bear with it. "Try this," she said, holding a candied fruit to his lips. "You can pretend I didn’t kiss it first." He pulled his head back, then refused. Gently, of course. But every refusal was met with another teasing retort from her, sometimes worded so smoothly even Mozrael had to look away, unsure whether she was blushing or boiling. And they weren’t alone. They hadn’t noticed the gathering. It began with just a few people peeking from the trees or along the path. Then more. And more. Until a small crowd stood quietly behind the bushes, across the river, or behind crates in the distance. Merchants, nobles, locals. All spellbound by the serene, ethereal image of the three children eating by the river, dressed in fine clothes, sunlight pooling around them like a painting. Kesha in white, glowing softly, then Aramith, calm and unreadable, and Mozrael, delicate and watching them both. Kesha leaned slightly toward Aramith, her voice low and sweet as she said— "Husband, say ’aah~’" Aramith’s reply came without hesitation. "Stop calling me that." "Why? You don’t like it?" "No." "Hmm. Then I’ll just say it louder next time." Mozrael gave a soft cough. Half-choked on a bite, half-secondhand-embarrassment. And that’s when it happened. From somewhere behind the cover of a bush, or maybe just beyond a tree, a voice suddenly burst out. "What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you know how many men would want that?" "I don’t care if you’re some prince or demon or whatever—you don’t deserve her!" Silence. The wind stopped. All three turned toward the direction of the sound. Slowly. The young man who had accidentally spoken, the one whose heart had been thudding way too hard for far too long, was already palming his mouth, eyes wide with horror. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. At all. But he couldn’t control himself. He wished he could switch places with Aramith, but- He wasn’t alone. Behind him were dozens of others scattered in hiding spots- some peeking behind crates, others crouched in grass, some even up in trees. It was like an ambush of embarrassment. Mozrael looked from the crowd to Aramith, then to Kesha, who... was just smiling. "Oh my, I think we’ve made a scene." Aramith tilted his head, a frown just beginning to form. Mozrael squinted, trying to place the voice. "...Did you say something?" Aramith asked, voice flat. The boy looked around like he could still escape this timeline. "No! No, I—I was talking to myself!" "You screamed at yourself?" Aramith asked, eyebrow rising. Someone hissed from behind a tree, "Idiot! You blew it!" Another cursed under his breath, "Now they know we’re here—go! Scatter!" And like a swarm of startled cats, the crowd broke apart, people sprinting in all directions, trying desperately to look casual. A noblewoman pretended she’d been birdwatching. One man started stretching, mumbling, "Just out here exercising... nice weather!" while slowly tiptoeing away. One guy tried to disappear behind a tree thinner than his leg. Kesha picked up her teacup again, taking a calm sip as she murmured, "That was a little rude." Aramith leaned on one hand, sighing as he looked at another who stripped and plunged into the river. "So much for a quiet afternoon." "This is why I said let’s stay home," Aramith muttered. Another man fell, twisting his ankle and calling for help. Two guys, probably friends of his, came back to help him up. "This is exactly why I didn’t listen," Kesha replied sweetly, taking another bite of fruit. Mozrael looked across the river, where a few stragglers still pretended to admire fish. "We should go," Aramith said Kesha looked toward Aramith, tilting her head. "If I say no, will you stay?" "No." "Then yes. We’ll go. I can’t make my husband uncomfortable." Aramith and Mozrael were sure they were finally heading home, but they seemed to have underestimated Kesha. She decided to drag them to another location. As the trio approached the towering glass-and-stone structure of the renowned Vermillion Auction Hall, the mood shifted. All around, curious eyes widened. Conversations stalled. Some adjusted their masks. Others whispered in hushed panic. "That’s... is that—?" "Wait, is she—?" "And the boy...isn’t that?" They hadn’t even reached the gold-trimmed steps before two sharp-dressed attendants broke rank and hurried forward, barely keeping their composure as they bowed low. "You honor us with your presence, esteemed guests," one said, voice shaky but respectful. "The VIP lounge has already been prepared. Please, allow us to escort you directly." Kesha offered a smile so elegant it somehow managed to carry the weight of a royalty’s nod and a war general’s smirk. Aramith didn’t say anything. Mozrael glanced sideways, ever unsure whether she should be walking with them or behind them. The doors opened into opulence. Velvet floors. Crystal chandeliers. Rich colors of deep crimson and regal gold painted the space in a way that screamed money. Masked figures milled about—nobles and dignitaries, wealthy merchants and eccentric collectors, some entering private curtained rooms, others choosing to stay in the central hall where visibility meant status. The trio was led to a luxuriously curtained VIP room, complete with plush seating, a tray of delicate snacks, and even a stack of cold towels. They were handed a bidding number -1, of course, and a communication stone, which gleamed faintly in its cradle beside Kesha. A booming, polished voice echoed through the hall. "Ladies, gentlemen, and distinguished guests from afar—welcome!" The auctioneer, a man with a shock of white hair and a flamboyant emerald suit, strode onto the stage with a grin that rivaled the chandeliers. "Tonight, we bring you treasures beyond imagination! Rare relics, lost heirlooms, items of ancient magic, and even curiosities only the most eccentric among you will dare to bid for! And might I say what a turnout! We’re nearly at full capacity, and our VIP lounges are the fullest we’ve seen in years!" The room thundered with polite clapping.