A handful of days slipped by in a blur of fabric, sketches, and endless adjustments. The tailor shop had fallen back into its familiar rhythm.
Bolts of silk and folded rolls of linen stacked high across the worktables, threatening to topple with Jean's every shuffle. He darted from one pile to another like a man possessed, muttering under his breath about colors, trims, and deadlines.
Erika, in contrast, sat cross-legged on a stool, sketchbook balanced on her knees. She tapped her pencil against the page, absently humming as she scribbled ideas—minor tweaks to collars, cuffs, and the embroidery patterns that might make Jean's workload a little lighter.
"Ah—damn it," Jean muttered suddenly, rifling through a basket. His expression soured.
"Out of silver-threaded lining. And the ivory buttons. Of course." He pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning dramatically.
"Why does trouble find me as if I embroidered my name on it??"
Erika didn't even look up from her sketches.
"Then stop stitching so much.."
He shot her a glare but pressed on, waving a measuring stick at her like a sword. "Enough sass. Erika."
He looks at Erika, who was sketching idly at the counter. "Hey… Mind running out to pick some up for me?"He added a hopeful smile.
"No."
Jean froze. "…What?"
"It's boiling outside," Erika said flatly, shading in a cuff design. "The only thing waiting for me out there is the joy of becoming a melted northerner on the pavement."
Jean blinked. "A… what..?"
"You know. Puddle of despair. With legs."
He pinched the bridge of his nose again, this time harder.
"Come on, I'm drowning in work here." He gestured at the mountain of fabric surrounding him. "I'll be drowning in silk before I can even breathe."
Erika lifted her head just enough to smirk. "Then drown quietly."
Jean slumping against the table like a man wronged by the gods themselves. He peeked at her from the corner of his eye.
Jean let out a heavy sigh, then muttered, "Fine. I'll give you an extra coin. Buy yourself whatever you want while you're out."
Her pencil stilled.
Erika closed her sketchbook, stood without a word, and walked toward him with unhurried steps. She stopped right in front of him, lifted her hand, palm out, and waited.
Jean stared at the hand, then up at her face, then back at the hand again. His lips twitched.
"Wow. No shame at all." He dropped the coins into her hand anyway.
A quiet chuckle slipped from Erika as she pocketed the money. "Thanks. Suddenly the day doesn't seem so unbearable anymore."
She grabbed her cloak and headed for the door, clearly already daydreaming about new books and snacks on the way.
He arched a brow. "You smile at money but not at me? Cruel woman."
She chuckled under her breath and waved as she headed open the door. "Books and food don't complain, that's why."
Jean gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "Ouch. such cruel words by my own dear friend."
Erika chuckled, " Don't be so dramatic, Jean."
Jean smiled and waved at her as she left the tailor shop.
The bell above the door chimed as she stepped into the glaring heat of the southern streets, the coins in her pocket jingling with promise. For once, the thought of running errands didn't seem so bad. Maybe a new book, maybe something sweet to nibble on the way home. The day had brightened considerably.
Erika stepped out of the fabric shop, a small bag of Jean's precious silks dangling from one hand, and another paper bag from the food stall clutched in the other.
Her eyes softened as she peeked inside: skewered pork, still steaming, stacked neatly inside. One stick was already halfway eaten, held between her teeth as she walked.
Mmm… juicy, smoky, perfectly seasoned. She took another bite, her eyes darting to the bag in her hand.
Jean's going to whine when he smells this. Maybe I'll toss him one. Or maybe not… he doesn't deserve it after making me run errands in this heat.
She smiled faintly at her own thought—right before her shoulder collided with something rock-solid. Her balance slipped; the half-eaten pork skewer flew from her grip and splattered against a man's back with a greasy smack.
Erika froze. …My pork.
The man stiffened, slowly turning his scarred face toward her. His shirt bore an ugly oil stain where the pork had landed. His eyes narrowed when he noticed her familiar pale features and northern-blue eyes.
"You filthy northern bitch," he spat, his lip curling.
Erika instinctively raised her hands, stepping back.
"Wait, I'm sorry—it was an accident. Let me—"
But two more men closed in, cutting off her retreat. One had a knife at his belt, the other a grin that made her skin crawl.
"Well, well," the grinning one drawled, his gaze crawling over her. "If you're really sorry… why not make it up to us with that pretty body of yours?" His laughter was coarse, heavy with intent.
Revulsion shot through Erika's veins, her stomach twisting. She shot him a glare, forcing steel into her voice despite the tremor threatening it.
"You're disgusting. I'd rather choke on my own blood than lay a finger on filth like you."
The men laughed, mocking her defiance. One stepped closer, hand reaching out for her arm. "You've got a sharp tongue. Let's see if your body's just as feisty."
Then he stopped. His wrist was caught—no, crushed—in a grip like iron.
"What the—" His voice cracked as pain shot up his arm.
The others looked up, their bravado faltering. A hooded figure towered over them, copper strands of hair glinting beneath her cowl, eyes like emerald fire boring into theirs.
Those eyes. They knew those eyes.
"You're that lady…" one whispered, remembering the alley weeks ago.
Lady Liana Green's smile was faint, almost playful as she twisted the thug's arm just enough to make him groan.
"My, what fine gentlemen. Three against one woman… over a smudge of meat. I guess chivalry is dead."
She released him abruptly, and he stumbled back, clutching his wrist. The other two hesitated, but she tilted her head, still smiling.
"If such a tiny stain drives you to rage…" she said softly, her voice edged with steel, "imagine what I could do if I painted your clothes with your own blood. Shall we test it?"
The men paled. One cursed under his breath, and the three of them bolted into the crowd.
Erika stood frozen, chest heaving. Her heart pounded—not just from fear, but from shock at the sheer effortless menace Lady Green carried.
They ran like whipped dogs… from her…?
Swallowing, she quickly bowed, voice hushed. "Th-thank you, Lady Green. I… I know what people think of northerners like me. You didn't have to step in. But… I'm grateful."
Lady Green studied her for a moment, then placed a gentle hand on Erika's shoulder, coaxing her upright.
"No need for that. Trouble doesn't care about where you're from. And neither do I."
Erika blinked, meeting those sharp green eyes as she straightened her posture.
Lady Green's lips quirked into a smile. "Besides… us ladies ought to watch each other's backs, don't you think?" She winked.
Erika's breath caught, her heart thudding at the unexpected warmth behind those words.
She shifted awkwardly, unable to meet Lady Green's piercing gaze. Her cheeks burned as she mumbled, "Y-yes… you're right, my lady."
Inside, though, her thoughts ran wild.
How did she handle them so easily? Three men, twice her weight—and she sent them scattering like frightened dogs. I've never seen anything like that. She's… terrifying, but at the same time… dependable. If she hadn't stepped in…
Her wandering thoughts were cut short when Lady Green's voice reached her again, smooth and curious.
"And where might you be headed, Miss Erika?"
Caught off guard, Erika nearly dropped the bags in her hands. She scrambled to compose herself, shoulders stiff as she replied.
"O-oh… um—I was just going to the bookstore, my lady. There's a copy I've been meaning to get. After that, I'll head straight back to the tailor's shop."
Her voice trailed off, hesitant, before she dared to add, "Though… forgive me if I'm being too forward, my lady, but… what are you doing here? In the lower city alone, I mean."
She glanced around uneasily, then leaned in just a little, lowering her voice.
"A noble like you shouldn't be walking around here so casually. Especially without a guard…" Her brows knit, genuine worry in her tone. "If someone worse than those three had shown up—"
Lady Green chuckled softly, cutting her off. A quiet, confident laugh that seemed almost amused by Erika's concern.
"You needn't trouble yourself over me. I came simply to look around. Sometimes the lower city has more life in it than all the gilded halls combined."
Her eyes gleamed faintly as she tilted her head. "And as for guards… well, after what you just saw, do you truly think I need them?"
The memory of those thugs stumbling away replayed vividly in Erika's mind. Her lips parted, but no words came. She could only nod stiffly, nerves prickling at her skin.
Damn, she has a point though…
Jean did mention she was the daughter of a noble knight. I guess that explains it. Still… seeing it firsthand is another matter entirely.
While Erika in her thoughts. Lady Green tilted her head slightly, her smile soft but curious.
" Truth be told, I'm a little lost in this part of the city. May I walk with you for a while? If you don't mind the company, that is."
Erika blinked, startled. A noble? Wanting to walk side by side with her? With a common northerner like her? Every part of her brain screamed that this was a bad idea—Lady Green could get judged, she could get judged. It was reckless, absurd—
But then Erika's eyes met hers. That bright, eager smile. The kind of smile that wasn't a command, but a hopeful request. A smile that said she was already expecting to be welcomed.
And just like that… Erika's will collapsed.
Oh, great. How am I supposed to say no to that face? God help me, I'm doomed.
With a sigh that barely made it past her lips, Erika straightened. "If… if that's what you'd like, my lady. I don't mind."
And so, the two of them set off together, their steps falling into rhythm—an unlikely pair bound by chance, weaving quietly into the bustle of the lower city.