A few days passed quietly before the time came for Baston and Luke to part ways.
The farewell itself was brief.
Luke had insisted, at least once, that Baston should accompany him to his family's house. There had been no arrogance in the offer, only a straightforward belief that it was the most reasonable course of action.
Yet, Baston declined without hesitation. The world that was surrounding the nobles was not one he wished to step into unprepared.
In the end, Luke relented and arranged to drop him off at a nearby settlement which was Maskar Town.
It was an unremarkable place at first glance. Like many towns that were scattered along the routes, it existed to receive the travelers. The place would shelter and forget them just as easily.
Before leaving, Luke attempted to press a pouch of coins into Baston's hand, calling it a compensation for his service.
Of course, Baston refused. It was not out of his pride but more about his calculation.
Luke would need the money more. Baston's own expenses were limited and the funds he carried were already more than sufficient. Even if he chose to stay in the finest inn where Maskar Town could offer, the cost would still be trivial compared to Luminos City.
After the final exchange, Luke soon departed.
Baston remained where he stood, watching the magic carriage shrink into the distance until it dissolved into nothing more than a flicker against the horizon.
Only when he was certain that no one paid him any attention, he stepped away from the road and into the cover of nearby trees.
With a subtle motion, he summoned his new clothes from the book.
The fabric unfolded in the air as though it was responding to an unseen command, settling neatly into his grasp.
These were the garments that he had purchased in Luminos City which was finely crafted and quietly reinforced with protection magic. They were the kind of attire that was meant for the nobles or wealthy merchants.
He had chosen the simplest design available, but even so, the simplicity did not erase its quality.
The memory of the shopkeeper lingered in his mind. The man had offered a discount almost too eagerly as though he was desperate to rid himself of the piece.
Perhaps, it was unpopular among the customer. That was why the man tried to throw it away at the cost price.
After changing, he stepped out of the trees and went inside the town.
The moment he entered the place, he felt it. There were many eyes that were focusing on him.
It was not hostile but it was also not welcoming eagerly. Inside, they were merely curious.
The strangers were common here since the travelers came and went like the passing winds, yet his appearance disrupted the ordinary rhythm. His clothes, though understated, did not belong to this place.
The people noticed and the attention did not fade as quickly as he expected.
Even as he moved past the first row of buildings, the feeling lingered which was thin and almost invisible. He slowed his steps slightly, pretending to observe a nearby stall.
From the corner of his eye, he caught something unusual.
Looking a reflection in a glass pane, someone was moving close behind him yet when he turned, the man stopped while browsing the nearby goods.
Further down, a young woman swept the same patch of dirt over and over again. Her motion was mechanical and almost rehearsed. It was just like rather than sweeping the dust, she just displayed her bountiful body over and over again.
He said nothing but the town had already begun to feel staged. Eventually, he ignored them and continued forward.
The town revealed itself in fragments. There were narrow streets that were lined with modest buildings. The faint scent of bread was drifting from a nearby bakery. The dull murmur of conversation was spilling from the open doorways.
Eventually, his gaze settled on an inn.
It stood neither grand nor neglected. It was just one of many places that he was sure to stay for several days based on the front door. That alone made it suitable.
However, what truly caught his attention was the blackboard that was placed outside. There would be free breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
He paused and he felt tempted. It was either a generous offer or a calculated lure. After a brief consideration, he stepped inside.
The innkeeper greeted him with a practiced smile while serving him to the best of her treatment.
"Good afternoon, young master. What can I do for you?"
Her tone adjusted quickly, shaped by his appearance rather than his presence.
"I want to stay for a week. How much the price?"
The answer came with renewed energy, "Five hundred fifty pounds per day. Seven days would be three thousand eight hundred fifty. I can round it to three thousand eight hundred."
"You don't need to..." the word was simple but firm, "Keep it at three thousand eight hundred fifty."
For a moment, the innkeeper hesitated before she nodded with visible satisfaction.
Once the payment was made, her demeanor shifted entirely. She personally led him to his room, speaking with careful politeness as though she was afraid of making even the smallest mistake.
The room itself was modest. It was clean, orderly, and familiar.
It reminded him of his dormitory though it was quieter. The air that drifted through the window carried the scent of distant wood and women's perfume.
He noticed it immediately but he dismissed it. He walked toward the window and pushed it open slightly wider.
The fresh air drifted in, carrying the familiar scent of wood and dust from the streets below. For a brief moment, the perfume trace weakened but it did not disappear.
That alone was enough to make him pause.
He had learned through experience that small inconsistencies were rarely meaningless. They were often the fragments of something that was hidden beneath the surface.
He leaned slightly toward the window and looked outside.
A cart rolled by at a steady pace, two children ran past with their clear and unrestrained laughter, and an unmoving old man sat quietly at the roadside.
Everything appeared ordinary as if the town had carefully arranged itself into what it was supposed to look like.
He slowly closed the window while the scent remained behind him.
The innkeeper left shortly after, promising any assistance if needed.
Baston stood alone. This was the first time he had traveled without someone beside him.
There was no Panto, no Alicia, and no Luke. Each journey before had led to something which was the conflict, danger, or unexpected responsibility.
He exhaled slowly, "Just this once… Nothing happens out of ordinary…"
A knock interrupted him with three soft taps.
The innkeeper returned, carrying a tray of snacks and a drink. She placed them neatly on the table before excusing herself once more.
He thanked her and attempted to offer a tip. She refused but he insisted, telling her that this was not a tip but a request.
"For dinner… Please, make it better…"
After listening what he meant, she accepted. After confirming the dinner hour, he left the inn.
*****
Maskar Town felt different once he stepped back outside.
At first, he thought it was simply the shift from the solitude into noise. But the longer he walked, the clearer the difference became.
There were no guards, not a single one.
For a town that was positioned along a travel route, that absence was unusual. Even the smallest settlements maintained some form of watch. It was done only to discourage the petty crime or wandering troublemakers.
Here, there was nothing. There were no people with uniforms, patrol routes, and visible authority.
His gaze moved across the buildings again and it was done more carefully this time.
The people were present and the activity continued yet the meaning behind it all felt missing.
Perhaps, it was just hidden. At first glance, it remained the same but now, he noticed the gaps.
The pauses between the sounds and the way certain conversations stopped when he passed.
He walked without direction, observing a clinic, a bakery, a general store, and some ordinary things. Then, farther ahead, he met something less ordinary.
A section of the town was set slightly apart even though it was not hidden.
The laughter that was drifted from that direction was louder and looser. The lights burned brighter there, even in the daylight. Many enticing figures lingered at the entrances and their posture relaxed but their eyes were sharp.
There were a pub, a gambling house, and a betting ring. And beyond them, there was the brothel.
He stopped, looking at the word of happy lair that was painted across its entrance that felt almost mocking.
He understood its purpose without needing to step closer.
The places like this existed everywhere. It was not because they were welcomed but because they were needed. At least, people claimed so.
He did not judge it nor did he accept it. He simply observed before he turned away. Before he could walk away, a soft sound unexpectedly interrupted his movement. A coin fell to the bottom.
It slipped from his pocket and struck the ground with a sharp and deliberate note.
He frowned because he hadn't touched his wallet but the coin rolled out of nowhere. It was not randomly since its movement was too smooth and too deliberate.
It did not bounce against the uneven ground or slow down from the friction as it should have. Instead, it maintained a steady pace as though it was guided by something else.
Baston did not move immediately. Instead, he watched and measured his next steps.
The coin continued forward, unwavering in direction toward a single destination which was the brothel.
A faint tension settled in his chest.
The coin should not behave like this and yet, this one had done so before. It moved with its own direction just like it was sentient.
He stepped forward and stopped the coin beneath his foot. He picked it up, examining it briefly before returned it to his pocket.
The silence followed and before he turned to leave, the coin fell again. This time, it was faster. It rolled farther before stopping right at the edge of the brothel's entrance.
A woman bent down and picked it up. When she looked up, her smile was effortless.
"Handsome boy, is this yours?"
Baston blinked confusingly. For a moment, he glanced behind him since he was half-expecting someone else to be there. Still, no one was.
"Yes, it's mine…" he replied.
The woman's smile widened slightly, "Do you want it back?"
She leaned forward just enough to make the invitation clear, "Come inside if you want to get it back..."
He watched her then slowly, he nodded, "Alright…"
The response surprised and amused her, "Good… You'll enjoy yourself…"
She returned the coin as he approached. For a brief moment, Baston did not take it.
He simply looked at the coin that was resting in her palm.
The surface was unchanged with no marks, no glow, and no trace of magic. It looked as ordinary as any other coin in circulation.
And yet, he could feel it. The event was just the same as before when Alicia and Luke decided his disguise.
When he finally took it, the metal felt colder than it should have. It was not the coolness of shade but the stillness of something that had never held warmth to begin with.
Her fingers brushed his hand. It was cold and unnaturally so.
He noticed the different treatment but he said nothing. As she guided him inside, his thoughts shifted.
The coin was the same coin he used before. The one that had once decided his fate between two choices. The one that never seemed to land randomly.
There had never been magic within it.
At least, none he could detect and yet, it moved and it chose. And now, it had brought him here. Even though he wanted to leave, the coin persisted.
His gaze darkened slightly, "So this is your next move…"
The old book remained silent but its presence lingered. It was heavy and watching.
*****
Inside, the brothel was brighter than expected.
The voices overlapped in a constant hum. The laughter echoed easily and frequently. The scent of perfume filled the air, thick enough to mask something else beneath it.
Baston inhaled slowly and carefully.
Beneath the overwhelming sweetness, something sharper lingered in the surrounding. It was the same faint trace that he had noticed in his room.
His eyes shifted subtly across the room.
Nothing appeared out of place and yet, the scent persisted. It was unwelcome and unexplained.
The women approached almost immediately while he was pondering. It was too quickly to avoid, making him not be able to escape anymore.
"Welcome…"
"First time here?"
"You look young…"
Their words blended together, their smiles remained, and their eyes scrutinized him.
He focused not on their words but on their behavior.
One woman tried to show her hips. Another one tilted her head in perfect synchronization so she could display her face. A third laughed while her fingers were hovering around her chest.
It was subtle and almost imperceptible but once noticed, it could not be ignored.
These were the natural reactions of people that was caught in the moment. They were performed, refined, and repeated as if each gesture had been practiced countless times until it became flawless.
In the end, the main purpose was to temp people for the business.
He narrowed his own face slightly. He allowed himself to be guided further inside step by step.
He observed over their reaction with every step and every gesture. In the meantime, the laughter continued behind him.
When the door closed, the sound was softer than expected. It was not the dull thud of wood against the frame but it was something muted as though the noise itself had been suppressed.
He did not turn back immediately. Instead, he listened carefully. The laughter behind him faded faster than it should have.
The chatter dissolved into the silence, making every heartbeat counted in such atmosphere.
For a brief moment, the world outside felt distant and separated.
Baston's grip on the coin tightened slightly.
This place was no longer just a brothel. Since the coin guided him here, there must be a reason.
He stopped just for a second before he continued walking, "Let's see…"
His grip tightened slightly around the coin in his hand, "What you're trying to show me..."
Unknowingly, the new quest had already begun.