Aeren stepped into the shopping district, where the air buzzed with vibrant life. Crowds filled the streets—voices overlapping, laughter echoing between the stalls. Merchants smiled their rehearsed smiles, their voices bright and persuasive as they called out to customers, weaving charm into every single word. A few were loud enough to draw attention from half the street, while others worked quietly, confident in the inherent quality of their goods.
Everywhere he looked, people were moving with deliberate purpose—browsing, bartering, enjoying themselves. The scene pulsed with color and sound, a rhythm that belonged entirely to human desire.
Aeren stood still amid it all, his expression calm and perfectly distant. His black eyes swept across the marketplace—the wide plaza glowing warmly under sunlight, the narrower alleys weaving through the district like veins. Despite the chaos surrounding him, there was genuine beauty here. The life in motion, the laughter, the shouts, the quiet exchanges—it was all a single, vivid picture of human connection.
He noticed nobles among the crowd, distinguishable easily by their refined clothing and subtle arrogance. Yet even they mingled, at a careful distance, among well-dressed commoners—people who looked wealthy enough to stand near them, if not as equals, then as exceptions.
Aeren observed quietly, his thoughts drifting deeper into contemplation.
Humans… they seek connection in everything.
They shopped not only for items, but for a feeling—a sense of belonging, of inherent worth. Though they were born the same, power had divided them fundamentally. Yet here, within this crowded marketplace, money blurred those rigid lines. Gold replaced bloodline. Desire replaced order.
So this is what they call civilisation, Aeren mused silently. Power reshaped as currency, and hierarchy rewritten in coin.
He could see the truth glimmering beneath the surface clearly: gold was the great illusion, the silent god humans had built for themselves. Whoever possessed it could rise to nobility; whoever lost it could fall into dust. Nobles bowed to gold just as commoners did—each enslaved in their own distinct way.
Aeren's gaze softened slightly as he continued observing.
Humans… they find meaning in an instant, only to lose it the next moment.
And yet, perhaps that fragile cycle—the rise and fall of fleeting meaning—was what made their existence so bright, so unbearably alive.
Aeren ignored the noise around him carefully, letting the hum of human life fade into the background. He had already understood the nature of humans long ago—but seeing it again, here, in this vibrant marketplace, made him realise that knowledge and awareness were fundamentally not the same thing.
He continued walking through the shopping district, eyes drifting from one side to the other, scanning every shop he passed methodically. He was searching for a place that might satisfy him—a store with clothes that fit not only his altered form but his quiet standards of perfection.
Then, just as he turned toward a broader street, he sensed someone approaching purposefully. Aeren's gaze lifted, and a man stepped forward from the flowing crowd.
"Hello, good sir!" the man greeted warmly, bowing slightly with practiced charm. "I'm Gayle, an assistant for all types of customers across this district. Whatever you need, I can arrange it—clothes, jewelry, weapons, or even rare gifts. I have connections everywhere, and I assure you, you'll get the best this market can offer."
Gayle's smile was wide and professionally crafted. He had already assessed Aeren at a glance—young, noble-looking, and clearly unfamiliar with the area. A perfect client, he thought. A generous one, perhaps. Helping him would bring both gold and valuable reputation.
"May I help you with something, sir?" he continued, his voice smooth and carefully polite. His posture straightened, chin slightly raised in a display of quiet confidence. His elegant clothes were clean and well-fitted, suggesting wealth—or at least the convincing illusion of it. Everything about him, from his measured speech to his stance, was crafted deliberately to appeal to nobles and rich commoners alike.
Aeren studied him silently for a long moment, reading every flicker of intent behind that polished smile. Then he spoke.
"Gayle, is it?" His tone was calm but carried an edge that made Gayle instinctively straighten further. "I'm looking for clothes—something suitable for me. And," Aeren's gaze sharpened slightly, "a gift for my fiancée. Her birthday is in a few days."
He paused for a meaningful heartbeat, then added quietly, "If what you show me satisfies me… you'll be rewarded generously."
Gayle's eyes glimmered brightly, just briefly, before his expression brightened again with genuine enthusiasm. "Of course, my lord. Please, follow me! I know exactly the places that can meet your expectations perfectly."
Gayle's expression brightened as he prepared to lead the way, but Aeren's calm voice stopped him firmly.
"Is that so?" Aeren said, his tone faint, almost indifferent. "I've never seen anything that met my expectations… not in others, not even in myself."
The words were quiet, yet they carried something that froze the air around them completely. Gayle blinked, confused by the cryptic statement. The meaning slipped past him, but the inexplicable weight of it pressed against his chest all the same. For a moment, his breath caught—then a shiver ran through his body, though he didn't understand why.
He forced a faint smile, steadying himself with the pulse of mana that flickered inside him. It's fine. Just a customer. Just another noble with odd words.
"You'll find what you're looking for, my lord," Gayle said with renewed confidence, pushing past his unease. "That's my promise. Please—follow me. I'll make sure you see something worthy of your expectations."
Aeren watched him in complete silence, his black eyes utterly unreadable. He could see through the man's thin layer of confidence—the trembling will hidden beneath it, held together precariously by greed and faith in his own words.
"Hmm. I will," Aeren replied softly. His gaze shifted forward. "Go ahead."
Gayle nodded, taking the cue as permission, and turned toward the main street. The crowd bustled around them—voices merging into a single wave of sound. Merchants shouted prices, laughter rose from various corners, and the faint scent of baked goods lingered pleasantly in the air.
"What do you need first, my good sir?" Gayle asked as they walked together.
"Clothes," Aeren answered simply.
"Understood." Gayle's tone brightened again, professionalism masking his lingering unease. "Then this way, please. I know the perfect place for fine attire—something that will surely suit you perfectly."
They turned down a narrower street. The noise faded behind them gradually, replaced by a quiet hum of conversation and the soft clatter of carriage wheels. The air here was calmer, distinctly cleaner. Shops stood with polished signs and subtle displays—no shouting merchants, no crowded stalls anywhere.
The decoration here was refined—elegant, but never gaudy. Gold-lined windows, marble pillars, and faint music from within the stores created a serene atmosphere.
Aeren's gaze swept across the refined street. The silence here was fundamentally different—intentional, almost sacred. It was the silence of wealth and refinement, where noise was utterly unwelcome, and desire was dressed carefully in grace.
Gayle smiled, gesturing ahead with pride.
"This, my lord, is where the true quality lies."
Aeren saw the luxury showroom from outside the shop, and the design and presentation displayed undeniable nobility. He could see two knights standing outside the entrance gate of the showroom. Aeren had witnessed too much beauty throughout his journey, so this shop did not appear to him as it appeared to many ordinary people. Aeren had seen reality—a reality that existed far beyond the beauty of this worldly desire. And that's why Aeren understood that all things in this world were merely trash.
But he showed no expression outwardly. "Good, it's a good place to shop," Aeren complimented Gayle as his eyes examined the shop carefully, and a smile appeared on his face that Gayle could observe.
Gayle saw his smile, and he felt relief wash over him as he watched him. "Yes, my lord. This is the best place for clothes shopping," Gayle replied with genuine enthusiasm and showed deepening respect toward Aeren. "Sir, please go ahead and lead the way. I will follow respectfully behind you." Gayle bowed himself with respect and asked politely for him to take the lead.
Aeren nodded at his words. "Sure, I will do," he replied with a polite tone. He showed less expression than before, and Aeren started walking toward the gate as he observed the elegant shop before him.
Two knights blocked his path as he reached near the gate and looked directly at Aeren. Aeren was confused by their unexpected action as he turned back to Gayle.
Aeren stopped, his gaze turning cold as he looked at Gayle instead of the knights.
"What does this mean?" he asked, his voice calm but carrying quiet weight.
He did not question the knights directly. His words were for Gayle—the man who had led him here. If Aeren was to face such disrespect after following him, then what was the point of bringing him along in the first place?
Aeren's eyes lingered on Gayle, unreadable yet sharp. His very silence carried the question further: If this is how I'm treated while following you… then why do I need you at all?