"Suuuuuupeerrrrr!!"
Seojin exclaimed. He raised his fist like a superhero while squatting so hard that his legs trembled badly.
"Suuuuuppppeerrrrrrrrr!!"
The children echoed him in unison and mimicked his pose exactly. Anyone watching without knowing the context would probably think they had completely lost it.
Thankfully, the villagers nearby, or more like the elderly as there were hardly any adults here, understood the harmlessness of the scene.
"Isn't that boy your lover, young lady?" an elderly woman with a hunched back asked, handing a bag of apples to Iria. "I envy you. He's such an energetic man! Ah, youngsters these days sure are built different."
Iria accepted the apple, her cheeks blushing slightly.
She wasn't in her maid uniform every time she visited the village to shop, so these kinds of misunderstanding were not unusual.
Today, she wore just a simple white dress. If paired with Seojin's neat white polo, they looked like a perfectly matched couple.
"Ah, I think you've got it wrong, Madam Cheng," Iria replied, shaking her head. "That's not the case! I… I don't think he would feel that way about me."
"Oh, young lady!" the old woman scolded gently, patting her back. "That's not good to say! How could he dislike those emerald eyes of yours?"
"Haha. I'm off then, Madam Cheng," Iria handed over a golden bead. "Ah. Thank you for the apple as always! The Young L— no, he really likes these."
She hurried off, carrying three bags filled with different kitchen ingredients. The bag was woven from coco leaves.
Seojin glanced back. The children were still running around, chasing falling snowflakes and shouting in their made-up game.
"SSUPEEERRRRRR!"
Their voices rang out in unison.
His gaze shifted to Iria, struggling to balance the bags in her arms. He rubbed the back of his neck, then crouched slightly to the children's eye level.
"Alright, alright," he said. "You guys win. Go on without me. Looks like a beautiful lady over there needs my help."
Three of the children puffed out their cheeks at once.
"Hmph. You just want to flirt with Lady Iria."
"That's right! Mister's definitely planning something weird."
"Mister, you're such a bad man."
"What?! H-Hey—!"
Before he could defend himself, the children burst into laughter and scattered in every direction, leaving him standing there.
Seojin stared after them for a second, muttering "sigh, those kids" somewhere along the line then hurried toward Iria.
"…You're finished?" he asked. "Allow me, milady. That's far too much for one person."
Before she could properly refuse, he took the bags from her hands and stacked them awkwardly against his chest.
"Ah. Young Lord," Iria said, pausing. "That is not your responsibility."
"What are you saying? Of course it is. I offered to accompany you. This is part of it."
She looked away, lips pursed ever so slightly.
"…Thank you."
Ironically, Seojin said he would accompany her shopping. Instead, he had spent most of the time yelling nonsense with children after Mutya announced to the entire village that Miss Iria had brought a 'kind' man with her.
"Bye, Mister! Come back next time, okay?"
Mutya waved at the distance.
They barely had time to turn before Mutya and the other kids were already running off again, chasing snowflakes and shouting their beloved chant.
That was the game he taught those children. Somehow, they loved it.
He chuckled.
"That was fun," he muttered. "Kind of weird, though. They didn't even know me, but they got comfortable way too fast. Do I just give off the kid friendly vibes or something?"
"I doubt that, Young Lord," Iria replied calmly. "They simply don't see you as an adult, so they treat you as if you're one of them. Children are honest about such things."
"…I know, damn it. You didn't have to say it bluntly like that."
"Mmm?" she tilted her head. "I only said what is obvious. Is something the matter, Young Lord?"
He glanced toward her again.
"Nothing," he slumped. "Regardless, I owe you an apology. I said I'd help you shop, but you ended up doing everything while I messed around."
Honestly, even he was surprised at himself.
Back on Earth, he had never been good with children. The one time he tried, he teased a kid until the poor thing cried. And yet here, after just a few words from Mutya, he had somehow ended up surrounded.
"Don't worry about it, Young Lord," Iria said. "There's still one more place to visit."
He nodded. However, he cursed inwardly inside his mind.
'Seriously? Damn it. I'm tired as hell already. These things are damn so heavy.'
He had only offered to carry the bags partly out of guilt, partly to ease the tension between them. It worked. Their conversation felt lighter, more casual, almost as if Seven Hart had never hated her in the first place.
"We've arrived. That is Madam Puti's herbal store, Young Lord."
They stopped near a small field. Beside it stood a short lighthouse-like building. Iria pointed toward it.
"But would you purchase five stacks of camelia leaves in my place?" she gestured behind them. "I'll help that Mister."
An old man was crouched on the roadside, hurriedly gathering potatoes that had spilled from his basket. Though it felt like he had seen him before.
"…You know, you could've just asked me to help."
"Yes," Iria replied, placing a golden bead on his palm. "But I would like it if you let me be the one to do it."
He looked at Iria. There was no ounce of hesitation on her expression, nor any indication that she was lying. He let out an umpteenth sigh.
'I swear all healers are written altruistic.'
If that old man had bad motives in general, then both Iria and him would've been already doomed since no knights had accompanied them going out the castle. Perhaps it was because the place seemed peaceful, but that was also the reason as to how Seven Hart was assassinated in the novel.
It took him so long, but he finally accepted the bead and turned toward the lighthouse.
"Cito," he murmured, weighing the golden bead in his palm. "It's quite light."
[Cito] was the primary currency of this world. They were natural but inconsistent. No two beads were ever the same size, which meant no two held the same value.
Back when he had first read the novel, he spent an unreasonable amount of time wondering how an economy like this functioned at all! Rivers and caves produced money and people eyeballed their worth, and somehow the economy still stood strong.
Fantasy worlds truly did play by different rules.
Upon arriving, the lighthouse really was indeed a small herbal shop.
As he approached the window, an elderly woman peered out, her sharp eyes sweeping over him from head to toe.
"A young man, huh?" the old woman said. "You look pretty well-off. Those clothes are neat. What business do you have here?"
"Ca… Camelia leaves. Five stacks, if you please."
"Hmm, let's see. Camelia, huh?" the old woman rubbed her chin. "Are you perhaps acquainted with a beautiful woman named Iria?"
"I fail to see the relevance, but yes."
"Fool, of course it's relevant! That girl is the only one who ever buys Camelia Sinensis around here. These elders living in that secluded village just don't know quality even if it grows under their feet."
She abruptly stopped.
Her gaze drifted toward the shelves behind her, stacked with dried herbs, leaves, roots, and bundles of things Seojin could not begin to identify.
"…Now then, camelia. Camelia…?" the old woman muttered. "Which one of these was camelia again?"
"Eh?!"
- – – 777 – – -
Seojin and Iria were now walking back together back to the mansion.
In the end, Iria still followed to the lighthouse herself after helping the elderly man with his dropped goods as the Young Lord sure took his sweet time. Who would've known he did not know what camellia leaves looked like!
"What an odd old hag," he muttered. "Is it truly wise for her to keep a shop open at her age?"
"That is an odd thing to say in itself, Young Lord," Iria replied. "How can you be so ungrateful. Without Madam Puti, you would not have a daily green tea to drink."
"…I'd rather not drink them anyway. They taste real damn nasty."
Realizing his mistake, he covered his mouth.
"Oops. I was just joking."
Camelia had way too beautiful leaves only for it to have such a nasty taste.
"Nasty?!" Iria blinked, as if it was her first time hearing those words. "Stop joking, Young Lord. You're going to incur the wrath of Madam Puti if she hears you."
"Okay, okay," he playfully waved his hands off. "Like I said, I was just joking. Joking. Okay?"
They both chuckled.
Upon arriving at the [Ascendance Castle], his thoughts were cut short when he noticed a familiar figure near the front gate. It was the same old man from earlier, handing a basket of potatoes to one of the knights.
"That old man. He's—"
"Ah. Mister Aizen," Iria interrupted. "He comes by occasionally to give his grandson potatoes from his garden, Young Lord."
Seojin narrowed his eyes, unconvinced. "Oh."
"Mister Aizen!"
Iria called out the old man.
"You should have said you were coming. We could have helped you carry the basket. I thought you were heading home already."