In an ordinary bakery within the city, two figures were busy at work in the storage warehouse behind the shop.
“Lara, bring that flour over here too!
Once we’re done you can call it a day!” A burly man stood in the warehouse shouting, his coarse linen shirt caked with flour, pointing at the sacks in the corner for Lara to haul over.
“Yep, on it.” Lara first set down what was in her hands, then turned back to pick up the sack of flour and headed toward the spot he’d indicated.
The Royal Capital of the Hero’s homeland — Inlan — was an exceptionally lively city.
With the Hero’s return drawing near — word had it they’d arrive within five days at the latest — the citizens had thrown themselves wholeheartedly into preparing for the celebrations.
Lara had taken the opportunity to earn some extra coin on the side.
With her “Innate Body,” she had a far more pronounced advantage over others when it came to manual labor.
Outside the bakery, Lara was dressed like an ordinary townsperson: a short-sleeved cloth shirt, brown trouser legs rolled up partway.
These were newly bought clothes — reasonably priced, just twenty coppers.
After tucking the wages she’d just received into the purse at her waist, she set off, walking down the stone-slab road toward her next destination — a magic shop.
It was rare to have time to linger in a city, and in her free moments Lara would also wander the streets to see if she could find anything that caught her interest.
This time, she had heard that the magic shop carried a marvelous spell: ‘a spell to make hair soft and smooth.’ As everyone knew, being a “shut-in,” Lara had not the slightest skill in hair care.
The past several months of travel had been nothing short of devastating to her hair — what had once been jet-black, glossy, straight hair was now frizzy and split at the ends.
She hadn’t paid it much mind at first, but ever since entering the city, she’d kept feeling like the middle-aged women around her were gossiping about her behind her back.
It wasn’t until a chance occurrence that she finally learned the reason.
The day before.
Lara, fresh off finishing her odd jobs, was walking along the street.
The big city’s wares were dazzlingly varied, and her gaze swept across one little stall after another.
After physical labor she wanted to eat something to refuel, but the overwhelming variety of street food made her hesitate.
As her eyes drifted, they passed over a dessert.
She knew it then — she was utterly done for.
No modern soul could endure going nearly half a year without a single dessert.
Especially after manual labor, that craving was magnified to no end.
She pushed open the shop door, and the bell on the frame jingled.
Right in front of her stood a wooden display case, neatly arrayed with one delicate confection after another.
The air was thick with the sweet aroma of butter, frosting, and fresh fruit all mingled together.
“Sssss…!” Lara sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes glued to a cream cake adorned with bright red strawberries and drizzled with an enticingly glossy syrup.
That fluffy sponge, that exquisitely piped cream, those plump, dewy strawberries… every last detail was calling to her like a demon.
She practically floated to the counter, pointed at that strawberry cake, and with a hint of urgency in her voice said: “This one, please — give me a slice.” Standing behind the counter was a young shop assistant who looked about her age, dressed in a clean, neat white apron, head down wiping the counter.
Hearing the voice, she lifted her head with a professional smile in place: “Of course, just one moment.
Will you be eating in the sh— uh?” The young clerk’s gaze settled on Lara’s face, and her smile faltered for a split second.
Then her eyes drifted upward, almost beyond her control.
In that look there was a mixture of surprise, a trace of regret, and the expression of someone with something to say who couldn’t quite bring herself to say it.
Being stared at like that left Lara baffled.
She instinctively touched her own face — she’d definitely already taken her armor off, hadn’t she?
“Is something the matter?” “Ah!
No, no, no!” The young clerk snapped out of it abruptly, realizing she’d been rude.
Her face flushed slightly as she hurriedly waved her hands.
“It’s nothing serious, it’s just… just…” She hesitated, seemingly waging a fierce internal debate, and in the end couldn’t hold it back.
In a low voice, with a faintly admonishing undertone, she said: “Miss…?
Your hair looks… umm… a bit too distinctive.” Her hair?
Mirrors weren’t found in many places in this world, and it had been a long time since she’d actually looked at her own appearance.
Lara stood at the counter looking faintly dazed, plainly not grasping what the clerk meant.
Helpless, the clerk could only first see to Lara’s order.
She struggled to keep her expression under control, doing her best to look polite, and held out an open palm toward the strawberry cake: “…Miss, let’s set the hair matter aside for now.
Will you be eating the cake here, or do you need it to go?
So I can prepare it accordingly.” “I’ll eat it here.” Lara, still oblivious to the issue, only wanted to eat the cake now.
Her gaze returned to it, her eyes sparkling.
“One moment, please.” The young clerk didn’t take the cake straight out of the display case.
Instead, she withdrew to the kitchen at the back.
Seeing that, Lara didn’t just stand there either.
She found a seat by the window and sat down.
Through the glass she could see the busy merchants and passersby out on the street.
Before long, the clerk emerged from the kitchen and set a strawberry cake on a plate down on the table.
“Please enjoy.” Once she had placed it down, the young clerk retreated behind the counter to observe Lara.
Set on the table along with the cake was also a small mirror.
?
‘What’s this supposed to mean?’ The clerk had said nothing in advance about a mirror, and Lara assumed it was a freebie.
She picked it up and took a look at herself — an old habit, that of inspecting anything that came into her hands.
‘Letting the eyes see the truth is always more direct than explaining with words.’ A single curled-up cowlick was swaying atop her head.
She thought she finally understood what the clerk had meant.
Her hair was like a clump of long-parched dead grass — dry, tangled, utterly without sheen, with the ends so badly split they looked like thin branches snarling and clawing in every direction.
Lara slowly set the mirror down.
This was the reason she wanted to learn a new spell.
People might be too lazy to look after themselves, especially a “shut-in.” But if a once-and-for-all solution was sitting right in front of her, Lara was still willing to give it a shot.
The magic shop wasn’t far from where she worked.
After turning two corners, Lara spotted its signboard.
Perhaps in accordance with the principle that “a magic shop must be situated in a thinly populated area to maintain an air of mystery,” there weren’t many pedestrians on this street.
Without even stepping inside, one could see all manner of spellbooks and scrolls.
The entire storefront was decorated with glass — whether or not that counted as high-class was up for debate, but that alone was enough for Lara to deduce: the shopkeeper was definitely loaded.
Which also meant… Inside the shop there was no counter, only a slovenly-looking man slouched in a chair with a spellbook draped over his face, leaning back against the chair as though napping with his eyes shut.
Standing outside the door, Lara ran her eyes over the price tags on the wares — not a single one under a gold coin.
Looks like having a marketable skill really does rake it in.
Wouldn’t you agree, 0083?
‘0083, copy that scroll over here for me!’ Lara fixed her gaze intently on the “Hair Care Magic” scroll, and only after about ten minutes did she leave, thoroughly satisfied.
After she’d gone, the man inside the shop gently lifted the book, peered through the gap in the direction Lara had departed, and let out a quiet sigh.
“Hah… not buying anything again?
Is this shop cursed or something…” Then he let the spellbook drop back onto his face, folded his hands over his belly, and went still.
Lara left the magic shop and returned to the inn.
What she needed now was a quiet environment in which to study the magic.
0083 rendered the copied spell into text and projected it into the air.
From here on, it was up to Lara herself.
Fortunately, this particular spell was on the simpler side — she ought to be able to learn it before the heroes returned… probably.
The next day.
The sun in the sky was brilliant and dazzling.
Cheers and the boom of ceremonial salutes rolled across the streets without a break.
The long-shut city gate had been thrown wide open.
Guards who had appeared from who-knows-where lined the road in two parallel ranks, holding back the impassioned citizens to leave room for the Hero’s party to walk through.
The colored silk ribbons scattered through the air were the people’s joy; what they sang of was a beautiful future.
Accompanied by the soaring notes of musical instruments, the Hero’s procession passed through the city gate.
This was the Hero’s triumphant return.
Through her window, Lara watched everything unfolding at the city gate.
For today’s sake, she had deliberately picked an inn as close to the gate as possible.
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