Eklavya stepped out of the administrative region, the steady rhythm of clan activity fading behind him as he prepared to turn toward the main gate. Just as he shifted direction, a familiar voice rang out across the courtyard. “Eklavya!” Aashi called, her tone sharp enough to halt him mid-step.

  He turned and saw his mother approaching from the residential area, her pace brisk, eyes already narrowed with the unmistakable expression of a mother who suspected her son was about to wander somewhere inconvenient.

  He waited as she reached him. “What is it, Mom?” he asked calmly.

  She crossed her arms slightly. “Where are you going?”

  “To buy herbs,” he replied, lifting one shoulder casually. “The elder asked me to bring them.”

  Her brows rose, suspicion melting into mild approval. “Oh. Alright then.”

  He nodded, then tilted his head. “Where are you going?”

  For a brief moment she hesitated — just enough for him to notice — as though weighing whether to say more. Then she sighed softly. “To the Head Office.”

  Without further explanation, she turned and resumed walking toward her duties, leaving Eklavya faintly curious but unwilling to pry. Shrugging lightly, he stepped through the clan’s main entrance and into the city beyond.

  The street outside unfolded in vibrant motion. Morning had fully awakened the marketplace. Wooden carts rolled into position, merchants lifted colourful awnings overhead, and vendors arranged crates of herbs, spices, and tools with practiced efficiency.

  Children darted barefoot between stalls while the scent of roasted nuts and freshly fried dough drifted warmly through the air, strong enough to tempt even disciplined cultivators. Eklavya stretched lazily, arms rising above his head as tension left his shoulders, then began walking toward the far end of the market — his destination already decided.

  Merchants shouted prices, customers bargained passionately, and handlers guided spirit beasts carefully through the crowd, their animals snorting impatiently at the noise. The air carried a strange but comforting mixture of soil, herbs, cooked food, and occasionally the unmistakable scent of beast fur.

  He passed weapon shops displaying polished swords glinting beneath sunlight, their blades catching flashes of brilliance as if eager for battle. Nearby, alchemy stalls showcased simple medicinal pills stored in jade bottles, while textile vendors hung bright fabrics that swayed gently in the breeze like captured fragments of sunset.

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  Normally, Eklavya might have lingered, but today his purpose was clear. At the far end of the market — away from the crowded center and tucked quietly between a pottery shop and a talisman stall — stood a small herb store he knew well.

  The door was closed. A wooden board hanging outside with Closed painted neatly in white. Eklavya ignored it entirely and pushed the door open anyway. A faint bell chimed overhead, announcing his arrival.

  Inside, cool air greeted him immediately, scented with fresh herbs, soft incense, and a faint floral fragrance he could never quite identify. Shelves lined every wall, filled with jars and containers — some transparent, revealing roots, petals, powders, and dried leaves, others sealed and opaque, guarding rarer ingredients from curious eyes.

  Behind the counter sat a young woman on a tall chair. Purple hair flowed down her back like silk touched by twilight, catching the morning light in soft glimmers. A notebook rested over her face, concealing her expression as though she had fallen asleep mid-reading. Eklavya approached quietly, footsteps nearly soundless — yet the instant he reached the counter, the notebook lowered smoothly, as if she had sensed him long before he entered.

  Amethyst eyes met his. Anshvi.

  She was striking — not merely beautiful but composed, carrying an effortless confidence that separated her from others. There was maturity in her gaze, a calm self-assurance that had allowed her to reject countless marriage proposals from nobles and heirs without hesitation. And yet, strangely enough, she always found reasons to speak with Eklavya.

  She rose slightly, a teasing smile forming. “Young Master Eklavya,” she said, voice melodic and playful, “what brings you here today?”

  He retrieved the list from his storage ring and handed it across the counter. “I need these herbs.”

  She accepted the paper, scanning it quickly with practiced familiarity. A small smirk curved her lips as she finished reading. “And anything else?” she asked, tone deliberately light — a question she asked far too often to be accidental.

  Eklavya shook his head calmly.

  She hummed thoughtfully, reviewing the list again. “I don’t have a few of these,” she admitted. “You’ll need to gather them from the mountain behind the city.”

  “That’s fine,” he replied. “Give me what you have. I’ll collect the rest myself.”

  As she reread the list, her confident composure softened slightly. A faint blush appeared on her cheeks, subtle but unmistakable. She looked away briefly before speaking again. “Coincidentally… I also need herbs from the mountain,” she said carefully. “Why don’t we go together?”

  Eklavya stared at her in silence.

  He understood perfectly. She had used variations of this excuse before. Despite gentle rejections, she never truly stopped trying, always finding another reason to walk beside him. And yet… he felt nothing romantic in return — no racing heartbeat, no awkward nervousness, only quiet neutrality.

  He sighed inwardly. Refusing outright would only lead to persistence later.

  So he said nothing.

  Anshvi’s smile widened slightly, interpreting his silence exactly as she wished.

  And just like that, without formal agreement or declaration, their journey for the day began — one walking with calm acceptance, the other with quiet triumph, while somewhere in the distance fate likely watched with great amusement at how complicated cultivation life could become outside of battle.