Arthur pushed the empty cart along the streets he knew by heart, but every step weighed more than usual.
The conversation with Talia still buzzed in his head.
She had not shouted, she had not openly accused him, and precisely for that reason it had been worse.
She had put the pieces together—the constant deliveries, the loose clothes, the scent, the way he kept his distance—and had placed in front of him the fact that it was becoming obvious.
Five percentage points just from talking with her.
His body had reacted to the stress as it always did, and now Arthur felt the skin too sensitive under the shirt and the sweet scent that seemed more present than when he had left that morning.
When at last he spotted the sign of the shop, he slowed down.
He did not want to go in.
But he had no choice.
He left the cart in the small space at the side of the building and crossed the threshold.
The hot air thick with iron and coal wrapped around him.
Brandt was still bent over a piece at the forge.
Ysolde was arranging orders on a side counter.
Tessa, sitting near the window, immediately raised her head.
Her gaze settled on Arthur and stayed there too long.
“You’re late,” she said.
“There were three deliveries.”
Tessa did not answer right away.
She watched him while he took off his jacket and hung it up, trying to move naturally.
The loose shirt clung to him a little from the sweat of the walk, and Arthur had a moment of panic at the idea that something might show.
He turned three-quarters, buying time.
“You’ve got an even stranger face than this morning,” Tessa said in a low voice, just loud enough for him to hear.
Arthur did not answer.
He went toward the back of the shop, pretending to check whether there were other orders to prepare for the next day.
He could feel Tessa’s gaze following him.
Ysolde approached with a small, tired smile.
“Did you eat something while you were out?”
“Yes,” he lied.
Dinner is almost ready.
We’ll close soon.”
Arthur nodded and tried to make himself useful by arranging tools that were already in order.
Every movement reminded him of the fabric against his chest, the sensitivity of the skin, the fact that at 59% the changes were no longer so easy to ignore even when dressed.
When Brandt extinguished the forge and declared the day closed, they all went upstairs.
Dinner was silent in a way Arthur found suffocating.
Ysolde served the soup and the bread.
Brandt ate with his usual practical concentration.
Tessa, on the other hand, raised her eyes toward Arthur every few bites.
She said nothing, but she did not need to.
That look was enough.
At a certain point Ysolde broke the silence.
“Lately you’ve been very closed off, Arthur.
Are you well?”
The question was gentle, but it landed like an extra weight.
“I’m fine,” he answered, looking at his plate.
“Just a bit of a tiring period.”
“If you need to take it lighter in the shop you can say so,” his mother continued.
“It’s not a problem.”
“There’s no need.”
Tessa set down her spoon.
“It’s not just tiredness.
You’ve been like this for days.
And it’s not normal.”
Brandt raised his eyes from his plate for the first time, looking first at Tessa and then at Arthur.
He said nothing, but his silent presence made the air even heavier.
Arthur clenched his fingers around the edge of the table.
“It’s something of mine.
“When you start isolating yourself and answering like that, it involves us too,” Tessa replied, her voice low but tense.
“I’m not blind.”
Ysolde placed a hand on her daughter’s arm in a quieting gesture.
“That’s enough for tonight.
Both of you.”
The silence returned, more uncomfortable than before.
Arthur finished eating quickly, excused himself with a murmur, and stood up from the table.
He felt the gazes following him as he climbed the stairs, and only when he closed the door of his room behind him did he allow himself to draw a long, uneven breath.
He leaned against the closed door and shut his eyes.
The house was no longer a safe place.
Tessa would not let it go.
Ysolde had started asking questions.
Even Brandt’s silence weighed.
And outside there was Talia, who had already put too many pieces together.
He took off his shirt and looked at himself in the mirror only for a moment, long enough to confirm what he already knew.
The body continued to change.
The chest had a clearer shape.
The hips were softer.
The scent filled the room.
He opened the Status.
[Name: Arthur Age: 18 Level: 1 Class: Apprentice Blacksmith (Weak) Strength: 4 Agility: 6 Endurance: 5 Magic: 3 Intelligence: 12 Dexterity: 8 Skills: – Basic Sharpening (Lv.2) – Tool Organization (Lv.3) – Excessive Shyness (Passive) [Curse: Gender Transformation – Blood of Lysara] Phase: 1/4 Progress: 61%]
Another two points.
Just from the tension of the dinner and the return.
Arthur let himself fall onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.
He was losing ground on every side.
And he no longer knew how much longer he would still be able to hold everything together.