The journey to the capital's center was brief.
Too brief to prepare a proper expression.
The cobblestone streets were filled with merchants and passersby; the scent of freshly baked bread drifted through the air, blending with the echoes of shouted advertisements. It was a living chaos, ordinary… and чужe to him.
Lusian looked around.
Not as a noble.
But as someone who had arrived late to a world that was already in motion.
When the carriage stopped, he stepped out first and offered Emily his hand.
She took it.
And that was enough.
The gazes didn't come all at once.
They spread.
One first.
Then another.
Until the noise dulled slightly… just enough to notice.
A merchant stopped shouting mid-sentence.A mother pulled her child closer without realizing.A group of knights straightened their posture too quickly.
It wasn't curiosity.
It was recognition.
The Douglas emblem didn't need introduction.
It was felt.
Emily's fingers tensed slightly.
Lusian noticed.
He didn't let go.
But his posture stiffened.
—This is drawing too much attention, —he murmured.
Emily smiled.
Perfect.
Rehearsed.
Necessary.
— I suppose everyone wants to see the newly engaged couple.
It wasn't true.
But it was good enough.
Lusian didn't respond.
Because he understood it too.
They weren't being watched out of interest.
They were being watched… out of caution.
He moved before the silence could grow.
First shop.
Without thinking.
A magic item store.
The interior was another world.
Quiet.
Orderly.
Controlled.
Glass shelves displayed artifacts pulsing with mana: rings, bracelets, floating spheres, weapons suspended as if weight did not apply to them.
Lusian slowed without realizing it.
He had seen systems like this before.
Interfaces.
Inventories.
But this wasn't a screen.
A lamp lit up as he passed.A brush moved on its own, sweeping dust in precise lines.A mirror changed its reflection depending on the light.
Everything worked.
Everything lived.
The shopkeeper—a young woman with brown hair—spoke calmly, but her eyes flicked once toward the door… toward the crest.
Then back to him.
More careful now.
Lusian asked.
And this time he didn't pretend.
A necklace that allowed levitation.A wand sealed with a high-tier spell.A genuine wind artifact.An earring that amplified the voice.
Simple.
Impossible.
He listened carefully.
Too carefully.
When he tried to pay—
he stopped.
Empty hands.
An awkward second passed.
Before he could speak, the duchy maid stepped forward and paid without hesitation.
Without looking at him.
Without asking permission.
Lusian exhaled slowly.
Right.
A noble doesn't buy things.
Things simply become his.
And that—
didn't sit with him as comfortably as expected.
Outside, the noise returned all at once.
Emily glanced at him sideways.
There was something lighter in her expression.
—You look like a child in a candy store.
Lusian gave a faint smile.
—It's the first time I've seen it like this.
He didn't elaborate.
Emily didn't ask.
—In the Douglas estate… this is normal, —she said.
A pause.
—But it's not something people enjoy.
Her voice dropped slightly.
Lusian noticed.
He didn't press further.
But he understood.
There, magic wasn't wonder.
It was a tool.
Or worse—
habit.
The jewelry store came later.
Lusian stopped.
Without realizing it.
The pieces shimmered with restrained elegance: enchanted gems, fine metals, magical engravings almost invisible to the eye.
He hadn't planned to enter.
The maid spoke.
—Young master, it would be appropriate to offer a gift.
Lusian blinked.
—A gift?
—It is tradition.
That was all.
Emily looked at him.
Amused.
Slightly.
Just enough.
Lusian sighed.
Right.
There were rules for this too.
He entered.
The interior was warm.
Soft incense.
Polished metal.
The jeweler—an elderly man—bowed deeply.
Lusian didn't analyze.
He pointed.
A silver pendant.
Blue stone.
Simple.
Correct.
The jeweler studied it for a moment.
—The young lady's affinity?
—Light, —Emily replied.
The old man swapped the gem.
Same design.
Different core.
Emily took it.
And the stone reacted.
A soft glow.
Stable.
Compatible.
Lusian watched in silence.
The pendant was wrapped.
Handed over.
He hesitated slightly.
—I suppose… that's how this works.
Awkward.
Honest.
He offered it to her.
Emily looked at him a moment longer than necessary.
And smiled.
Not the social smile.
Another one.
More real.
—Thank you, Lusian.
She held the piece.
The light reflected in her eyes.
Or perhaps—
it was her eyes that made the light seem different.
Lusian didn't analyze it.
He didn't want to.
They continued walking.
Slower.
Closer.
Without much conversation.
But the silence was no longer the same.
Lusian watched her.
More closely.
How she moved.
How she responded.
How she adapted to every gaze without breaking.
She wasn't fragile.
She wasn't a victim.
And she wasn't—
what he remembered.
Emily wasn't an event.
She wasn't an ending.
She was a person.
Here.
Now.
And for the first time—
Lusian stopped thinking about how the story ended.
And began to wonder…
if it was truly written at all.