"Here are some of my personal recommendations."
The old woman placed several earrings onto a velvet tray before Noa, her movements slow and deliberate, like a priest presenting sacred relics rather than a merchant selling jewelry. The soft lighting inside the shop reflected against the polished glass cases, scattering fragments of light across the wooden floor like fallen stars that had lost their way home.
There were many designs.
One design caught the eye immediately.
The cuff formed two interwoven arcs—one polished ivory metal, smooth as moonlight frozen in solid form, and the other deep crimson crystal, burning like frozen blood beneath glass. The arcs spiraled upward like entwined flames or two lovers eternally reaching for each other yet never touching. The contrast between ivory purity and crimson intensity made it look both balanced and quietly dangerous, like a blade that had learned how to pretend to be jewelry.
Another design was minimal and refined.
The cuff itself was white and polished, as if carved from winter marble. A short vertical line of small silver spheres hung delicately, each sphere reflecting light like tiny planets orbiting a silent star. At the end rested a geometric crimson prism, edged with thin gold trimming. The shape caught sunlight sharply whenever it moved, creating flashes of red light—like distant warning signals in a peaceful sky.
But what truly captured Noa's attention was the last one.
A slim white-gold cuff formed the base, elegant as royal architecture. From it hung a delicate silver chain. At the end of the chain rested a small inverted diamond-shaped crimson crystal, wrapped at its center by a thin ivory band. The crystal looked like a suspended drop of royal blood frozen mid-fall, as if time itself had decided that even blood could become beauty if it refused to touch the ground.
Noa turned it slowly between his fingers, feeling the cool weight of craftsmanship rather than material value.
"This one's good."
"Ho-ho! Nice choice, young man," the old woman laughed softly, pleased by his selection. Her eyes softened, like someone watching a child choose something meaningful rather than expensive.
Meanwhile—
The duke's son, Lucien, stood inside the shop.
Lucien had soft brown hair that fell neatly across his forehead, styled carefully to maintain noble elegance without appearing arrogant. His piercing red eyes were sharp, like polished rubies cut for war rather than decoration. He wore a fitted light-red coat with gold trim over a cream vest and white shirt, black trousers tucked into polished leather boots that clicked faintly whenever he moved. A simple crimson sash rested at his waist, marking his noble lineage with quiet confidence rather than loud pride.
Poised.
Controlled.
Raised like a sword that had never been allowed to rust.
He was walking slowly through the shop, examining jewelry like a hunter searching for the perfect prey.
"What will Elan like?" he muttered.
He picked up several pieces, turning them under the light, watching how crystals caught reflections of his own eyes. Then he would place them back down—nothing was perfect. Nothing felt like the right gift.
Like trying to capture someone's soul inside metal and stone.
Frustrated, he turned around.
And his eyes landed on the earring Noa was holding.
Lucien's pupils widened.
"That's it. That will be perfect."
The crimson crystal reminded him of Elan's eyes. Not just color—but feeling. Passion. Fire hidden behind calm demeanor.
He examined Noa carefully.
Not a noble.
His clothing was high-quality, yes—woven from expensive fabric—but not decorated with family crests or noble insignias. Just practical elegance. Like someone who had money but didn't want to announce it to the world.
"I would like to buy this," Noa declared.
Noa was handing the earring to the old woman for checking and packaging.
"It's mine!" Lucien suddenly shouted, lunging forward.
Noa already moved.
His body shifted with lazy efficiency, like water slipping around a stone.
Rose immediately recognized Lucien.
The duke's son.
Cold sweat formed along her back.
Oh no. The lord is too kind. He will probably just give away the earring. He doesn't even have aura pressure like nobles who train from childhood.
Rose started to move, preparing to intervene.
I must sto—
"What?" Noa grinned, teeth showing slightly. "What did you say?"
His eyes locked onto Lucien.
And Rose noticed something change.
The air around Noa thickened—not with magic, but with intent. Like a predator slowly realizing prey had stepped into its territory.
"I said that earring is mine. You will hand it over immediately," Lucien declared, lifting his chin slightly, trying to project authority like a boy wearing his father's armor too early.
"This is an order from Duke Blackmoor's son, Lucien Blackmoor."
The name hung in the air like a royal decree carved into stone.
"…The duke's son?" Noa repeated.
"Sir, perhaps—maybe—he will forgive you if you hand it over," the old woman said nervously, already imagining political disasters unfolding like falling dominoes.
"That's right. I'm Duke Valric Blackmoor's s—"
"Well… this is interesting," Noa interrupted. "Not the owner, but the buyer making the decision, huh? And it's the duke's son too."
He smirked.
He had not expected to meet nobles like this so quickly inside Crimvane.
Well, can't blame her. She was busy finding me.
Rose's internal evaluation of Noa continued to shift like unstable scales.
He knew who Lucien was.
Yet he was smiling.
Maybe because he was Vionette's partner.
But Rose felt something deeper was wrong.
This wasn't kindness.
This was anger.
"You… knights, put him down and grab the earring," Lucien ordered.
To Lucien's command, the four knights moved immediately.
Then—
[Blink]
Noa's body blurred.
snapp
crack
crunch-squish
snapp
Four sounds followed almost simultaneously, like snapping branches during winter storms.
In an instant, the four knights collapsed.
Their bodies hit the floor like broken statues whose souls had been violently removed.
Rose's breath stopped.
Noa grabbed Lucien by the head and lifted him effortlessly, making the young noble's feet dangle above the floor like a child being punished by a strict parent.
"Uhekk!" Lucien struggled, grabbing Noa's wrist.
"Wh-what do you think you're doing?"
Noa's smile widened.
"What am I doing? Let's go meet your father."
He glanced at Rose. "Pay for the earring."
Here, unlike Eryndor, he could punish nobles using Vionette's authority. But he would only strike people like Lucien.
Because Noa respected strength regardless of birth.
Weakness was not shame.
Arrogance was.
Rose stood frozen.
Her carefully constructed image of Noa shattered and rebuilt at the same time.
Kind.
Calm.
Honest.
Aggressive.
Arrogant.
A piece of shit.
Noa's own words echoed in her memory.
"Hey, what should we do with this g—"
"KYAAH!"
A scream exploded outside the shop like glass shattering against stone.
slrrr
The ground trembled faintly beneath their feet, like something massive had taken its first painful breath.
Noa and Rose rushed outside, dropping Lucien onto the wooden floor without ceremony.
What they saw was nightmare and tragedy fused together.
They were human.
But something had rewritten their existence.
Bodies twisted like living sculptures carved by madness rather than anatomy. Some grew tall and broken like cracked towers of flesh. Others crawled low and fast, limbs bending in directions nature had never intended. Their skin was stained with dark shadow-like corruption, as if darkness had seeped into their blood and replaced it.
Yet within their distorted faces—
Behind jagged teeth and hollow eyes—
Was humanity.
Sadness.
Fear.
Anger.
Like children who had been swallowed by darkness but still remembered sunlight.
Four could be seen clearly, but the destruction they caused was enormous. Burned houses released black smoke that curled upward like mourning spirits. People screamed in streets turned into battlefields.
"What the hell is that?" Noa whispered, eyes widening.
"They are the ones I told you about," Rose said, teeth clenched. "The ones not recognized by the void. But…"
"But?"
"This is different. Real cases are so rare there shouldn't even be two at once. These are weaker. Artificial."
"So… handmade monsters?"
"Most likely."
Rose's hand moved toward her sword.
"Rose, wait," Noa said.
He stepped forward.
He was not going to let Vionette's people die.
"Protect the civilians. Move the injured to the back and shield the healers."
Four knights stepped forward immediately, swords leaving sheaths with metallic hymns of war. Their leader stood at the front.
Dark blue hair, faintly shaded with black, fell neatly around his temples. His face was handsome but calm, like a sea before a storm decides to awaken.
Kaelen Veythorne.
"But…" Rose worried.
Those knights were not enough.
If she and Noa fought together, victory was guaranteed.
Noa tapped her back gently.
"Don't worry. If anyone's going to die, I'll step up."
Then why don't you fight now? Rose thought.
Noa didn't move because he felt something else.
Some strange feeling that 'something is going to happen'.
Kaelen stepped forward.
"Your three, hold them off as long as possible."
Then he rushed forward.
He could hear them.
Not just screams.
But the trapped voices inside those monsters.
"I will free you from your agony," Kaelen said quietly. "If kindness cannot save you… then I will become the mercy you cannot give yourself."
He stepped into battle like a knight walking into judgment day.
And the wind carried the scent of burning wood, blood, and something far more ancient—
The smell of destiny beginning to move.