Aiven could hear Virelle humming a melody he didn't recognize—a complex, ethereal tune that sounded like something from a different era or perhaps a different world entirely.

  ?As the steam began to curl out from under the beaded curtain, Aiven’s stomach let out a treacherous, hollow growl. He realized with a start that they hadn’t eaten anything since their hurried breakfast back in Lowhaven, before the world had turned upside down.

  Aiven thought Virelle might take a while in the bathroom. Since Prancing Paws was an inn, there should be a place selling food nearby. So he thought taking a quick trip outside to buy some food for both him and Virelle would be a wise decision.

  ?Aiven opened the door slowly, peeking into the hallway. It was silent and empty, the wooden floorboards polished to a soft sheen. He made his way downstairs, the air becoming warmer and more humid as he reached the lobby. Lulu, the bunny beastfolk girl, was slumped behind the counter, her long ears drooping over the ledger as she struggled to stay awake in the early morning stillness.

  ?"Lulu?" Aiven called out softly.

  ?The girl startled awake with a tiny squeak, her ears shooting straight up and her red eyes wide with instant, reflexive terror. She scrambled to stand straight, her white fur bristling. "I-I'm awake! I didn't see anything! I'm not talking!"

  ?"It's okay," Aiven said, raising a hand to calm her. "It's just me. I was wondering if there’s anywhere nearby selling food this early? We’re... pretty hungry."

  ?Lulu’s nose twitched frantically. "Food? Yes! Right! Food! There’s a stall just around the corner, the Old Tortoise makes the best sunrise buns! I’ll go! I’ll go right now!"

  ?Before Aiven could even offer to go himself, the bunny girl had dashed out the front door, her fluffy tail a white blur. Aiven stood in the empty lobby, blinking. He felt a pang of guilt; Virelle’s barbecue threat had clearly left a lasting impression. Now the inn was completely untended, the door swinging gently in the tropical breeze.

  ?Barely five minutes had passed before Lulu came skidding back inside, panting, clutching two steaming bamboo boxes. "Here! Two sets of sunrise buns and grilled reef-fish! Still hot!"

  ?Aiven reached into his pocket and handed her a silver coin. Lulu stared at it, her ears twitching. "I... I don't have change for a whole silver."

  ?"It’s okay," Aiven said, offering a small, tired smile. "Keep it. Consider it a thank you for the quick service."

  ?Lulu gripped the coin as if it were a holy relic, but her expression remained haunted. "Thank you, sir. Truly. Just... please," she whispered, leaning over the counter, her voice trembling. "Please don't let the silver-haired lady make me into a barbecue. I'm too young to be roasted. I have a lot of carrots left to eat."

  ?"I promise, I won't let her hurt you," Aiven said, trying to reassure her. "She just... has a very dramatic way of speaking."

  ?"MASTER!"

  ?The shout erupted from the top of the stairs, vibrating with enough mana to make the decorative ferns in the lobby rustle. Aiven’s heart skipped a beat. Oh no.

  He forgot to tell Virelle that he had left the room.

  ?Three seconds later, a blur of lavender and silver descended the stairs at a terrifying speed. Virelle wasn't just floating; she was practically lunging through the air. She was wrapped in a fresh, white robe provided by the inn, her damp silver hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  ?She landed—or rather, hovered—directly between Aiven and the counter, her eyes flashing with a dangerous, theatrical fire. Lulu froze in absolute terror, her ears pinning themselves so tightly against her head they practically disappeared.

  ?"Oh? What is this?" Virelle purred, her voice dripping with a sweet, lethal sarcasm. She turned her gaze toward Lulu, who looked like she was about to faint. "I leave you for ten minutes to perform a basic hygiene ritual, and I return to find you huddled over the counter with this... this long-eared hussy?"

  ?"Virelle, she’s just the receptionist," Aiven said, stepping forward to intercede. "She was helping me get food—"

  ?"Helping? Or seducing?" Virelle interrupted, pointing a slender finger at the trembling Lulu. "Look at her! Twitching her nose in that provocative manner! Displaying her fur with such unbridled audacity! Do you think I am blind, Master? Do you think I don't recognize a move for your affections when I see one?"

  ?"She was terrified of being cooked, Virelle! Not seducing me!" Aiven groaned. He grabbed Virelle’s arm—the fabric of her robe still slightly damp—and began to pull her back toward the stairs. "We have the food. Let's go back to the room before you cause a scene."

  ?"A scene? I am the scene!" Virelle protested, though she allowed herself to be led away, throwing one last smoldering look over her shoulder at Lulu. "Stay away from him, rabbit! Or I shall discover if beastfolk truly do taste like chicken!"

  ?"I'm sorry, Lulu!" Aiven called back over his shoulder, his face burning with embarrassment as he dragged the fuming mage up the stairs.

  ?Lulu didn't answer. She was still standing perfectly still, a single tear rolling down her cheek, clutching her silver coin as if it were her last will and testament.

  Once back inside Room 204, Aiven kicked the door shut with his heel and let out a long, weary sigh. He set the steaming bamboo boxes on the floor near the bed.

  ?"Virelle," he said, turning to her with a stern expression that was undermined by his own exhaustion. "You need to tone down these fits. Attention is the absolute last thing we want right now. We are fugitives, remember? If the city guard gets word of any incident involving us, they'll find us in an hour."

  ?Virelle, now dressed in her usual outfit, hovered by the window, her arms crossed and her lower lip jutting out in a pout. "I was merely establishing the hierarchy, Master. It is my duty to ensure no common—" She stopped, seeing the genuine worry and frustration etched into Aiven's face. Her arrogance faltered, and she drifted closer to the floor, her hair drooping. "I... I apologize. I may have allowed my protective instincts to bypass my tactical discretion."

  ?Aiven rubbed his eyes with his right hand. "As long as you understand. If we're going to stay here even for a night, we need to be invisible. Maybe you could try throwing Lulu a friendly smile tomorrow morning? Just to show her you aren't actually going to eat her."

  ?Virelle looked like she had been asked to swallow a live frog. "A... friendly smile? At a rabbit?" She looked at Aiven’s pleading eyes and sighed dramatically. "Very well. I shall attempt to perform a convincing display of common amiability. But do not expect me to enjoy it."

  ?"I'll take it," Aiven said.

  ?He gestured to the bamboo boxes. Since there was only one chair in the room, Aiven sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the side of the bed. He patted the space on the floor across from him. "Food's ready. Let's eat while it's still hot."

  ?Virelle hesitated for a moment, looking at the floor as if it were a foreign planet. Then, slowly, she lowered herself until she was sitting cross-legged across from him. It was a strange sight—the regal, silver-haired archmage sitting on a wooden floor in a cheap inn, surrounded by tropical wallpaper.

  ?Aiven opened the boxes. The sunrise buns were golden-brown and puffed with steam. Curiously, each bun had a small, somewhat cute cartoon tortoise stamped onto the top with edible ink.

  ?Virelle picked one up, inspecting the tortoise with a skeptical eye. She took a dainty bite, her eyes widening as the savory filling hit her tongue. "This is... actually quite delicious," she admitted, chewing thoughtfully. She pointed at the cartoon tortoise. "Tell me, Master... is this tortoise meat? It has a remarkably robust flavor for such a slow creature."

  ?Aiven nearly choked on his own bun. "No! No, I highly doubt the Old Tortoise stall owner would be selling his own namesake. It's probably just pork or reef-fish. The stamp is just a logo."

  ?"Pity," Virelle remarked, taking a much larger second bite. "I imagine a tortoise would be very easy to catch. Even for a clerk."

  ?Aiven smiled despite himself, the tension of the escape finally beginning to ebb away as they shared their quiet, floor-side breakfast in the dim light of Fangreach.