Lucas’s gaze locked onto mine, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of vulnerability behind his usual carefree demeanor. He gulped. “Why… like this?”

“I need to test myself, how I will react. And… You can take it as an apology,” I said softly, a small smile curving my lips. My heart was beating faster than I cared to admit, the warmth of his hand on my shoulder sending little jolts of awareness through me.

“Apology?” he repeated, clearly confused. His brow furrowed as he shifted his focus back to the cape. “This… what? I don’t understand the item…” His confusion deepened as he blinked several times, his eyes widening. “It doesn’t make sense… Le—Legendary?! Where did you get this?”

“Oh, I robbed the imperial treasury,” I replied, laughing out loud as if I was talking about a favorite brand of whiskey.

Lucas blinked at me, utterly dumbfounded. “You what?”

“Share the item’s details,” I said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’ll explain if I can.”

He hesitated for a moment, but then his eyes focused, and a faint window shimmered into existence between us. My gaze flicked to the description, but my attention was drawn back to Lucas.

His eyes—why hadn’t I noticed how beautiful they were before? The way the light caught in them, a soft warmth…

What was I thinking?

Focus, Charlie!

[Embroidered Frostcape]

Quality: 7-legendary

Effect: A flowing cape of icy-blue silk. It radiates a chilling aura, empowering your abilities, slowing foes with its frozen embrace, and weaving time itself to quicken your spells.

“This is… very helpful. I love it. Very much,” I said dryly, keeping my expression completely straight as I looked back at him. Lucas’s shock morphed into thoughtful realization, and then he burst out laughing.

I joined him; the tension easing with our shared laughter. As the sound faded, I let my hand brush against his, lightly resting on his wrist. His laughter tapered off as I guided his hand down my side to rest on my hip.

“What about my corset?” I asked, my voice low.

Lucas’s gaze flicked down for a moment, his face quickly turning crimson as realization dawned. He swallowed hard before nodding, his voice almost a whisper. “I… Yes. I’ll… do that.”

I leaned in slightly, my tone softening. “As for why I’m apologizing…” My words trailed off, and I took a steadying breath. “I’ve been unfair to you. I was so focused on how hurt I felt, how betrayed I thought I was, that I didn’t stop to see that you can solve the biggest crisis of your life—with your own hands.”

Lucas opened his mouth, his lips parting like he was about to say something, but I raised a finger and pressed it gently to his lips. “Lucas, I know. What you did wasn’t okay,” I murmured. “I had every right to be upset. But this… this is… a way of figuring out how I’ll react to all of this. To you.”

I glanced down, my hand still resting over his. “Also weird item?”

[Royal Corset of Ice]

Quality: 7-legendary

Effect: A form-fitting bodice woven from enhanced frostsilk. Reinforced seams ensure it’s stronger than it looks.

I nodded, as if the details made complete sense to me.

Spoiler: they didn’t.

I’d had legendary items in the past—enough to know they were special—but these? These were something else entirely. First the skill, now this? Is it making fun of me?

I shook my head, trying to ground myself.

“Okay, so it says stronger than it looks. If it was only marvel, it would say plus ten percent physical defense, plus five magic damage. It’ll be something like that, just obscured because of same reason.”

“That makes sense. What now?” Lucas asked, his voice uncertain, as if he were trying to navigate a conversation in a foreign language.

“Isn’t it obvious?” I said with a mischievous grin, guiding his hand lower. “The skirt!” I teased, my tone light, though the feeling in my chest was anything but. “This one’s going to be better and with numbers—you’ll see!”

As Lucas’s hand brushed the fabric of the skirt, I felt a warmth rise within me—a sensation that had nothing to do with the enchanted frostsilk’s effects. It wasn’t just the touch; it was the way it lingered, like a spark catching on dry kindling, igniting something deeper. Something I hadn’t allowed myself to feel before.

Was this… something more?

It couldn’t be.

Right? This was Lucas—my stupid, goofy friend who once tried to cook spaghetti by throwing it into a bucket of vodka. It was Lucas. I liked Katherine. A lot. And Lisa was adorable. My heart didn’t have room for this kind of confusion.

Or so I thought.

I glanced at him, trying to read his expression.

He looked as flustered as I felt, his hand trembling ever so slightly against the cool, flowing fabric. “There you go,” Lucas said at last, his voice slightly unsteady.

The notification popped up, but I barely registered it.

My focus was on him—the way his breath hitched slightly, the faint color in his cheeks. I clung to the moment, unsure of whether to break the tension or let it linger. For once, Lucas wasn’t being a clown or deflecting with humor.

He was just… here.

Focus. It’s not you who he likes.

[Gossamer Ruffle Skirt]

Quality: 7-legendary

Effect: Lightweight layers of enchanted fabric that flow like a snowstorm but never weigh you down. Grants Unyielding Poise.

System wasn’t helpful to tell me what *Unyielding Poise* was. Well, it didn’t have to.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

I knew it.

It was one of warrior’s skills I really liked. So I grinned and kissed Lucas. On face. “Yas! *Unyielding Poise* is awesome!”

Lucas stared at me like I’d just hacked his computer and rewritten his code. His expression was a mix of confusion, surprise, and something else I couldn’t quite place. “So, what about the stockings?” I asked, a smile playing on my lips as I guided his hand further down, just to rest on top of my knees.

But the moment his hand touched me there, something new coiled in my chest.

Dread.

Why?

Because at that moment, a terrible thought surfaced—he doesn’t like me. He likes her.

I shook my head, trying to brush the thought away like an annoying mosquito. Lucas’s lips parted, and he stammered, “Uhmm, Charlie…”

“No,” I interrupted gently but firmly, forcing a smile. “Let’s just finish the items.”

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded, his focus shifting to my thighs with what I could only describe as cute carefulness. His fingers barely brushed against the material as he concentrated, and then he finally shared the stats.

[Diamondweave Stockings]

Quality: 7-legendary

Effect: Fine black stockings etched with subtle silver runes. Their runes reinforce both form and function. Grants Diamond Reflex.

“Yes!” I practically cheered, the excitement bubbling up despite the lingering knot in my chest. “This is amazing! It’s Jewel Reflex and Diamond—a great one!”

I was about to launch into an explanation of what that meant, my hands gesturing wildly, when the door creaked open.

Lola peeked inside, her eyes landing squarely on the two of us.

I froze.

Lucas’s hand was still on my knee, and the sheer absurdity of the situation hit me like a ton of bricks. Without thinking, I shoved him away—just a bit forcefully, though given my lackluster strength stat, it was more of an awkward nudge.

Lucas stumbled back, his face redder than a sunset, and I scrambled to stand, smoothing my dress like it could erase whatever Lola thought she saw.

Lola’s gaze flicked between us, her brow arching with suspicion. “Am I… interrupting something?” she asked.

You knew, and still entered. Some steward you are!

I cleared my throat, summoning every ounce of dignity I could muster. “Nope! Not at all!” I chirped, a little too quickly. “Just—uh—inventory stuff! Identifying items. That’s all.”

Lucas was still frozen, his hands awkwardly hovering like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “Yeah, just, uh… inventory stuff,” he mumbled.

Lola’s lips curved into a knowing smile, but she didn’t press the issue. “Right. Inventory stuff.” She stepped fully into the room, glancing behind her as if afraid the hallway will follow. “Well, Lady Charlie, when you’re done with your… inventory session, someone insistent is here to... tell you something.”

“Okay, who—” I started, still a bit flustered, but before I could finish, the door burst open with a bang that made me jump.

“I’ll tell her myself!” a deep, angry voice bellowed, and a man stormed in. He was tall and broad, wearing a brownish outfit with so many belts it looked like he was a walking leather factory.

His boots were scuffed, his gloves worn and practical, and a battered hat perched atop his head, casting shadows over sharp eyes that burned with barely restrained irritation. A crooked knife dangled from his side, more decorative than functional, and his smell—a mix of grease, leather, and sweat—entered the room before he did.

“Oho, there you are, princess!” he declared, his voice booming as he shoved someone—I think it was Alma—to the side with all the finesse of a charging potar. She stumbled but quickly steadied herself, glaring daggers at his back.

I’m so tired of this. Please, someone, make it stop.

Undeterred, the man marched further into the room. Was it the map room? Planning room? Whatever, this room.

He pointed a gloved finger at me, his face set in a sneer. “Listen, you aristocratic twelp!”

Lucas stepped in front of me as if to shield me from the verbal onslaught. But the man didn’t even hesitate. With a casual swipe of his arm, he shoved Lucas aside like a rag-doll, sending him stumbling against the wall. Lucas barely caught himself glaring, but the man didn’t seem to care.

“First!” he barked, jabbing his thumb down dramatically. “I serve only Imperial Doan-Commander Mila!” His voice was loud enough to rattle the windows, and I couldn’t help but admire his dedication to making an entrance.

“Second!” He raised his index finger with enough force that I half-expected it to snap. “We don’t have enough resources for whatever nonsense you’re planning!” His voice wavered slightly at the end, his initial steam cooling as he realized I wasn’t reacting with outrage or fear—just mild amusement.

“And…” He faltered, looking at me as if he expected me to cut him off or yell. I simply raised an eyebrow, waiting. “And… that… is all.”

I crossed my arms, leaning slightly against the edge of the table. “Are you quite done?”

“Yes, I am done,” the man said, his tone suddenly more subdued, though there was still an edge of frustration.

I glanced at Alma, standing near the door, her posture rigid as she watched the exchange. “Good. I suppose this is about my request for armor for my personal guard?”

He nodded, his brow furrowed. “One thing is poaching people from the doan—that can be understood,” he said, with annoyance in his voice. “But you don’t have any resources! We have nothing!” His tone escalated again, edging toward outright frustration.

Lola slowly approached and rested a hand on my shoulder, lightly smiling.

I turned to glance at her, her expression calm but watchful, before sweeping my gaze around the room. Lucas was still leaning against the wall, arms crossed, but his eyes were locked on the quartermaster with a wariness.

Alma looked ready to pounce, her gaze intense as a blade as it followed every twitch of the man’s movements.

“So, vulgar man,” I began, my voice as smooth, “what can I do for you?”

His eyes narrowed, and he took in a deep breath, clearly preparing for another rant. But before he could get a word out, I raised my hand, cutting him off. “Don’t forget,” I said, letting a dangerous edge creep into my voice, “I don’t even know who you are. Should I kill you now or later?”

That made him freeze.

His mouth snapped shut, and he hesitated, his eyes darting between me and Alma, who was now grinning like she’d just been handed the best assignment of her life. He gulped audibly and took a step back, his bravado crumbling. “Dungeon…” he whispered, almost to himself.

Well, at least that reputation is good for something.

“You wouldn’t!” he said, his voice cracking as he tried—and failed—to sound confident.

I raised an eyebrow, letting the moment stretch just long enough. “I absolutely would to rude person. Alma!” I yelled, my voice commanding. “Arrest this random man!”

Alma’s grin widened as she stepped forward and grabbed his shoulders. The quartermaster’s face turned ashen, and he threw his hands up in a panic. “P-princess!” he stammered, his voice rising in desperation. Then, with a deep bow that almost toppled him, he blurted out, “I-I-I apologize! I’m the quartermaster, Farhad!”

I’m petty.

I know.

But he deserves it.

I tilted my head, my expression still cool. “Oh, so you do have a name and a job?” I said, waving a hand to signal Alma to pause. She stopped, her hands still gripping his shoulders, but she didn’t release him, her eyes gleaming.

Farhad swallowed hard, beads of sweat forming on his brow. “Yes, Princess. I… I didn’t mean to offend you. I was only trying to—”

“To what?” I interrupted. “Burst into my meeting, shove my people around, and lecture me like some clueless peasant?”

He winced, clearly realizing just how poorly he’d handled things. “I… No, Lady. I mean, yes, but—”

“But?” I repeated, arching an eyebrow.

He lowered his head, defeated. “I apologize, truly. I… allowed my frustration to cloud my judgment.”

With a sigh, I gestured for Alma to release him. “Fine. Apology accepted—for now,” I said, my tone making it clear he was walking a very fine line. “But know this, Farhad: I don’t tolerate disrespect, and I certainly don’t tolerate incompetence.”

“Yes, Lady,” he said quickly, bowing again.

“Good.” I stepped away from the table, letting my voice soften. “Now, tell me what you actually need to fulfill my request—whatever it is—just don’t barge in here like that again.”

Farhad straightened, some of his earlier confidence creeping back into his stance. “Obviously, right now, we need money. The more, the better. We’ve got adventurers outside bringing in supplies, but we can’t buy anything!” His voice rose again, the frustration bubbling to the surface.

“Sure,” I said, cutting him off before he could work himself into another rant. I motioned to Lola and Alma. “Walk with me. Lucas, you don’t need to come. Talk to you… later? I still need to know the stats of my heels.”

Lucas gave me a quick nod and wandered back to the map.

I glimpsed him placing yet another adventurer near the enemy army with all the strategic precision of a cat knocking over a chessboard. Letting out a sigh, I turned on my heel and headed for the door, my entourage falling in step behind me.

“Hey, Alma?” I asked as we made our way down the corridor, the soft echoes of our footsteps filling the otherwise quiet hall. “Have you picked anyone for the guard yet?”

“Not yet, Lady,” she replied.

“I see,” I said as I led the group toward where I thought the treasury room was, keeping my fingers crossed that my sense of direction wasn’t about to embarrass me. “After the armor, yes, yes.”

When we reached the door, I noticed it was unguarded, but the faint shimmer of enchantments flickering across the surface told me it didn’t need anyone standing watch.

Perfect.

I pressed my ring against the door, and it responded immediately, swinging open with a soft whoosh of displaced air. The room beyond was small—smaller than I’d expected—and completely bare except for a single table in the center.

Farhad let out a low chuckle behind me, but I ignored him, my focus narrowing on the plain wooden table like it was the most important thing in the world.

Well, I thought the empire had lent us more money. Didn’t Lucas mention borrowing it himself?