“So, you just came back from a date?” Fulvia smiles at me.

I stare daggers at Antoninus, who has no problems sharing my business with just about anyone, it seems.

“I did,” I sigh. “I might not have had the best luck, either.”

Fulvia starts taking out clothes from one of those magical bags and putting them on the counter.

“You are young enough. You’ll have more dates.”

“Heh, probably. I just feel weird about how this one went. It seemed like everything was going great, and then it suddenly went sideways. Who knows? Women are still a mystery, Humans and Elves.”

“If I was thirty years young, Human,” Fulvia winks at me, and it actually makes me smile. “Now, take a look at these.”

She gestures to the pile, and I get up to sort through them.

I’m not sure how much exactly I’m earning, but it’s enough to buy more clothes for everyone back at the camp. I start digging into the pile of soft materials and nod to myself.

“They look great, Fulvia. Amazing work, as always.”

“And you want to order another batch?” Fulvia cocks an eyebrow.

“Yep. Antoninus, Lucillus, start bringing this stuff back to the Pratus, my bag of holding is full of food. I don’t want those shirts and pants to be stinking of cheese when they get them.”

My two [Guards] grab armfuls of clothes until their torsos are almost fully covered from sight.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us? I don’t want to leave you alone,” Lucillus says.

“I won’t move from here, I promise. What are they going to do, attack while I’m talking skirts and bras with Fulvia? Well, I mean, not just skirts, Fulvia, but I wanted to also order a few pieces for myself,” I say the last part looking at the old woman.

The two [Guards] look at each other before shrugging.

“Don’t put one foot out of here, Joey,” Lucillus warns me before crossing the door.

“I won’t!” I shout after him as they leave.

“I added some variety in colors,” the old woman says with a sigh, “even those poor saplings over there deserve some.”

I turn back to her with a smile.

“Thank you for your work. It’s great. The idea of premade sizes must be new to you. I’m sure I can get someone back there to learn how to sew if they don’t know already; it would be really useful in adjusting the sizes and whatnot.”

“Are you going to commission even more clothes for them, Joey?”

“Absolutely,” I nod. “Someone has to.”

“I don’t mind the gold in my pockets and the added work, but you know that you are commissioning a high-level [Seamstress] and that you could find cheaper work elsewhere, right?”

“Who says I want cheaper? Just because someone is penniless, it doesn’t mean they have to dress like it. A good shirt and a great haircut are all I can give to them right now.

“I’ll tell you more—I wish I could give them freedom. Every time I walk back there, it feels so shitty that these people are in that situation because of debt. Why wouldn’t the military want those in debt to be able to work another job to pay it back?”

“Desertions,” is the quick reply of the woman. “When a war strikes, not everyone is ready to fight to the death. But you are more incentivized to do so if you can’t do anything else for the rest of your life.”

“Wouldn’t rich kids still be able to afford the debt?” I say, confused.

“Rich people and nobles play by different rules.”

Huh.

True.

Fulvia walks around her shop, taking out three mannequins from a chest—an enchanted chest or something. There was definitely not enough space for those in there.

“Are those the same dresses I saw the last time I visited? Like, a month ago or something?”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

I stand up to take a closer look at the one in a flowing gown of shimmering gold. The other mannequin with a woman’s dress has a shining silver gown with delicate lace and sequins adorning the sleeves and hem.

Fulvia looks at dresses herself, and she sighs, rubbing her wrinkled face.

“I’d strangle them if I could. See the red jacket? They want another one in a different color now because one of the noble kids saw it and threw a tantrum. The same kid who didn’t want a new one for their stupid party.”

“Who’s they?”

“The Valerii.”

“Oh, the nobles?”

Fulvia gives me a confused look.

“You don’t know who the Valerii are?” She asks.

“I mean, I don’t know know, but I know—I think.”

“Well, it’s them. And the bratty adventurer said she doesn’t want a gown—which her mother paid for already. She wants a scarlet dress that allows for better movement.”

“For what’s worth, your work looks amazing, Fulvia,” I smile at the older woman and give her one of my custom winks.

The woman playfully throws one of her silvery locks back and winks back.

I’m happy that someone has a sense of humor in this world, at least.

And for what matters, we’ll see what happens with Irene. I don’t fully understand why she was so sulky today. It’s almost as if she was angry at me. But why? What did I do? She said she likes me, but then the owner of the restaurant comes asking for help, and she sulks like that?

I sit on a bench in Fulvia’s shop and pinch the bridge of my nose.

“Still thinking about your date?” Fulvia asks as she paces around the mannequins and pops a new one out of the chest.

“Yeah, I don’t understand. I think she got angry at me because the owner of the restaurant we went to asked me to give a quick demonstration in the kitchen or something.”

“She might have wanted your undivided attention,” she says distractedly as she starts sorting through rolls of fabric.

“Perhaps,” I say, putting my head against the wall and closing my eyes for the moment.

As Fulvia works on the new dress, I take a second to rest my mind. What I know about Irene is limited. I know she probably takes care of her family and that her parents died—probably in the military, if I had to guess.

If I still had the kind of brain I had when I was a child, I could probably work this problem out in a better way. But alas, I’m stuck with the current tools. Or, who knows, maybe I am the tool. I mean, I know that it doesn’t make sense for her to risk being seen by people she knows with a Human she’s not sure she’ll have anything with, but… it stings. It feels like I could have done something, and I did not do anything about it.

But what should I have done? Should I have told her that she has nothing to be ashamed of? Yikes. That would have backfired. Plus, in a city full of racists, it kind of makes sense you would behave like that.

Right?

“Oh, look who’s there!”

I open my eyes to three figures entering Fulvia’s shop.

“How can I help you?” Fulvia raises her eyes from the mannequins.

“Oh, miss, sorry, we were just looking for this Worm.”

It’s three Elves in leather armor with swords at their sides—[Soldiers].

“Hey, Worm, care to come outside for a little chat?”

The [Soldier] speaking is a fat guy with a face plastered with pimples and red splotches. I think he’s one of the goons going around with the guy. As I look at his side, there’s also a thin, tall [Soldier] that jolts my memory.

Right.

“You two are the goons of… what’s his name?”

“Are you talking about our [Corporal], Worm? [Corporal] Appius?”

“You three, out,” Fulvia snaps with an icy tone. “This is my shop, and you three are not welcome to bother my clients.”

“Sorry, miss, we have business with this little Worm, too. He—”

My ears start ringing.

It isn’t up until this moment that I realize something.

I’m in a really bad mood, aren’t I?

First, Irene, now this?

“Worm, are you listening?” The fat guy steps closer.

I look at Fulvia, who’s now shouting at them to get out.

She has worry in her eyes.

She is trying to protect me.

But what these guys don’t know, and probably neither does Fulvia, is that I don’t need protecting. Not anymore.

They waited for Lucillus and Antoninus to get away from me? What were they expecting, to provoke me again and intimidate me?

I slowly get up.

“Fulvia, would you say their behaviors could be considered an act of aggression and trespassing?”

“Worm, I’m talking to you!” The fat guy raises his voice, but I’m just looking at Fulvia.

She is at a loss for words, frowning at me.

“What do you mean, Joey?”

“I’m asking if these guys are currently displaying possibly dangerous behavior that might warrant self-defense. And if you don’t want them here, they are trespassing as well, right?”

Fulvia looks troubled, but she still nods at me carefully.

“Yes, Joey. They are indeed trespassing and being aggressive.”

“Alrighty, then. Fellas, what do you say you get out of here? This is a private business, and you are getting an old lady riled up. Do you have no shame?”

Please, don’t just get out.

“Get out?” The thin man steps forward as well and snickers at me. “Why, because a little Worm says so? Who do you think you are talking to, huh? Your kind shouldn’t be allowed in Amorium nor—”

[Advanced Mana Sense]

[Deep Focus]

[Light]

[Light]

[Light]

[Light]

I raise two finger guns and point them at the chest of the two [Soldiers]. One moment, they are up and spouting racist slurs; the next, they are laying on the ground, wheezing for air—trying to scream in pain but unable to since there’s nothing left in their lungs.

“So,” I say, looking at the third [Soldier] who came with them. “Do you want to go down, too, or would you do me the favor of dragging them out? If you are lucky, Fulvia won’t be pressing charges. If not, I genuinely wouldn’t mind breaking some bones.”

See, projectiles made out of a [Light] spell hit pretty hard. I’m sure these two have some skills that might help them tank hits, but Arminius was put to sleep by one of them. I used two shiny projectiles each for these idiots.

I could have gone softer, sure. But if there’s a lesson my mother has taught me is that once you go on the offensive, you have to go all out. You can’t let your enemies just take advantage of your kindness.

Hell.

A smile spreads on my lips.

I miss that woman so much. She was a nutjob at times. But she would have been really proud of me at the moment.

I’m done having people screw with me. And if they want to try, this is just the beginning of it.

“So, friend,” I smile dangerously at the guy, hands itching, “what is it going to be?”