Chapter 7 Clothes

"Who are you two?" he said, pointing a finger at them. 

Before he could say more, the two lunged toward him. "Catch him!"

"This time we're going to get a big reward for finding such a handsome male for the queen!"

He froze for a moment. Handsome male for the queen?

As they lunged, he easily dodged their attempts to grab him. The two men were just normal humans, which made it simple to avoid their clumsy grasp.

They quickly realized they were dealing with someone unusual. After all, who could dodge them so easily?

One of them changed his approach, calling out, "Hey! If you come with us, it could be a big opportunity for you!"

He narrowed his eyes. "Opportunity? What kind of opportunity?"

"We're looking for someone special, and we think you fit the bill," the other man said with a grin. "The queen likes extraordinary people, and you seem extraordinary."

He scoffed. "Extraordinary, huh? Why do you think I look extraordinary?" He glanced down at his dirty, tattered clothes, then back at them. He felt more like a handsome beggar than anything special.

The two looked at each other. "You see, your face is very pretty and handsome, and the queen is searching for a man."

"You would be fortunate to be with the queen. You know she is very beautiful. Imagine sleeping with her. Just come with us," they said.

"..."

He opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by a sweet female voice. "Don't listen to what these two are saying."

He turned to see her—a woman whose face was mostly hidden by the shadow of her hood. Her snow-white skin glimmered in the light, and despite her obscured features, he could sense an air of elegance and strength.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I am no one."

"I was just passing by and heard the conversation."

"Oh? Then what are these two guys saying wrong?"

"They're not saying anything wrong; it's just that they didn't tell you the queen is an absolute whore who hasn't even left her sons alone."

She continued, her voice steady. "She usually looks for handsome young men to sleep with and then kills them through public execution. She's just a crazy bitch."

As she finished speaking, the two men glared at her, their faces twisted in anger. Talking about the queen like this was taboo in the kingdom, and they couldn't let it go unpunished.

With a roar, they rushed towards her, weapons drawn, ready to strike. But before they could reach her, she moved with a speed that took him by surprise.

In a single swift motion, she drew a blade from beneath her cloak. With precision, she severed both of their heads in one fluid movement, their bodies collapsing to the ground.

"..."

"You're new in this city?" she asked, glancing at him.

He nodded. "Yes, yes."

"Hmph. Then take care, and don't tell anyone about what happened here," she said, turning to leave.

"Wait!" he called out, his voice rising with urgency.

She paused and looked back at him, her eyes narrowing. "What now?"

"Miss, I'm new in this city. I don't know anything about what's going on, so it would be nice if you could give me some guidance."

"Just leave this kingdom; that's the best guidance," she said, starting to walk away. As she disappeared into the shadows, his expression returned to normal.

"Hmmm… what an interesting woman," he muttered to himself.

"Well, at least I got some information," glancing down at the blood pooling around the bodies of the two men. The sight was unsettling, but he was surprised to find it less disturbing than he expected.

"This doesn't look as disgusting as watching someone burn alive," he thought, eyeing his reflection in the dark liquid.

"Indeed, I do look good," he remarked, taking a moment to appreciate his appearance. His long black hair hung loosely around his face, framing his sharp features.

"is my hair turning red?" he wondered as he noticed a few strands that had taken on a crimson hue instead of black.

[It is the effect of the Mist of Depravity. It alters your appearance over time. Your hair will turn crimson, as will your pupils,]

"Oh, so I wasn't imagining it," he muttered, glancing at the faint red streaks in his hair.

Still, his tattered clothes stood out, and he needed something better if he was going to move around freely.

With a sigh, he walked away from the scene and arrived at a nearby street.

He scanned the street until he spotted a well-dressed man walking alone, a coat draped over one arm and looking as if he belonged to the wealthier circles of the city.

Deciding quickly, he slipped into a side alley, waited until the man was close, and then called out.

"Excuse me, sir! Could you help me?"

The man paused, intrigued but cautious. "Yes? What is it?"

"I think I took a wrong turn," he said, gesturing to the alley. "Could you point me in the right direction?"

The man, appearing polite but slightly annoyed, nodded and stepped into the alley to help.

As soon as he was within reach, he acted swiftly, grabbing the man and covering his mouth before the man could react.

With a precise knock to the back of the head, the man slumped, unconscious.

"Nothing personal," he murmured, quickly stripping him of his coat, vest, and boots. Once dressed, he checked the fit, adjusting the sleeves and collar.

"Now I look like a proper gentleman," he muttered, adjusting his collar as the last of the daylight faded. The sky was turning to twilight, shadows stretching across the cobbled streets.

"Where should I stay tonight? Sleeping on the streets isn't an option," he thought aloud, glancing around.

Then an idea struck him, a smirk forming. "Maybe I can put this face to good use."

He strolled along, looking for a modest house—one that seemed like it might belong to someone without too many prying neighbors.

His plan was simple: find a kind-hearted woman who'd let him in under the pretense of being a traveler, new to the city and just unlucky enough to be robbed.

Finally, he spotted a house that fit the description. A small garden out front, lights flickering in the windows, and a welcoming look to it. He knocked, putting on his best weary, innocent expression.

After a few moments, the door creaked open, and a woman in her thirties appeared, looking at him.

She had a mature, elegant face framed by soft curls, and her figure was undeniably eye-catching—curves accentuated by her fitted dress.

"Good evening, ma'am," he said, doing his best to sound earnest. "I'm new to the city, and I had the misfortune of being robbed.

I know this is unexpected, but I was hoping you might allow me to rest here for just a night or two until I can get back on my feet."

She looked him over, her expression softening as she took in his worn appearance. "Oh, you poor thing," she murmured, her voice kind.

"People can be so cruel. It's not often I take in strangers, but you look like you could use a little help."

"Thank you," he said, relieved. He took a careful step inside, feeling a warmth radiate from her presence.

Her home was cozy, with soft lighting and the faint scent of freshly brewed tea.

She smiled, closing the door behind him. "You can call me Elara. Why don't you sit down, and I'll make you something warm to drink?"

He nodded, settling into a comfortable chair as he took in his surroundings.

The warm ambiance of her home, the soft lighting, and her gentle presence made him feel at ease, if only for a moment.

Elara moved gracefully, disappearing into the kitchen.

He heard the clinking of dishes, the soothing sounds of someone preparing tea, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of gratitude. Perhaps this night wouldn't be so bad after all.

But just as he began to relax, a chill swept through the room, a sudden sensation that prickled at the back of his mind. It felt like a warning, but he brushed it aside.

Next second a sharp pain pierced through his chest. It was so quick that he barely had time to react. He looked down, his expression shifting from confusion to horror as he saw the glint of a blade protruding from his chest.

"What—" he gasped, his voice barely a whisper.