My first workweek with the Lord of Lords was coming to a close and she had not touched the espresso machine even once. In fact, the only times Malquea would come inside Big Gusto Espresso was to eat lunch or use the bathroom. The rest of her day would be spent observing from afar.

“Leo,” said one concerned regular on Friday morning, “did you know that there’s a strange woman staring at you from the parking lot? She’s been there since Tuesday.”

“I know,” I replied with a fake smile. “She’s a new associate, taking her time learning the ropes.”

“Well, just be careful, alright? She’s got this weird stare. Like she doesn’t care about anything, y’know? I’d be careful of getting involved with girls like that. They just want to watch the world burn.”

“Thanks for the input,” I said, gritting my teeth. I waved as they drove off, then sighed to myself. Mal’s behavior had raised plenty of eyebrows, mostly my own. She did her own thing with no regard for the conventions of this world. I admired that. At the same time, I think it might also be good to expose her to more things this weekend.

As I ran over the ideas in my head, a low-lying Porsche stopped in front of the order window. The driver-side window came down, revealing a fresh-faced man wearing large aviator sunglasses. It was Nelson Needs, wearing a frown that made it look like he had seen something utterly ugly.

“Hello, how can I help you today?”

“I saw the tapes,” he said, taking off his sunglasses.

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, guy. I saw the tapes of your little monster girlfriend knocking me out.”

I started sweating. My armpits became damp and I had this tingling feeling in my leg. Nelson was going to report us to the police. I’d have a hell of a time trying to explain anything of what happened.

“It’s all a huge mistake,” is the first thing I blurted out.

“I saw you serving our customers on video too. If word gets out that you served coffee in our place, Machiavelli Coffee’s rep would go down the drain. Not good for business. So here.”

Nelson threw me an envelope. I opened it and found ten crisp twenty-dollar bills.

“Wh-what’s this for?” I said.

“We’re even. Don’t go fucking up my store again, got it?” He sped out after that, nearly hitting a car as he exited into the main road.

“What did he do?” said Malquea. She had her sword pulled out, in its gloriously oversized glory. One swing of it could probably cut Nelson’s car in half.

“Gave me some money,” I said flatly.

“For what?”

“In a weird way, I think it’s his way of saying thanks for what happened on Tuesday.”

“Was he mad about the incident?” she said.

“I think he was more embarrassed than anything,” I said. “Not that I’m complaining. Want to go to the mall tomorrow?”

“I’m unfamiliar with the term,” she said, stabbing the sword into the ground.

“It’s a place where people buy things,” I said.

“A market, then?”

“Something like that.”

“Fascinating,” she said with a wide grin. “I once convinced a man to sell me his cow for five coin. Was probably the greatest bargain ever had in my dimension.”

“Did you by any chance use that sword of yours?” I asked, looking at the gleaming weapon.

“Yes, why do you ask?”

“Nevermind.” I held the envelope in my hand. There was something satisfying about the weight of the bills. Nothing beats cold, hard cash.

“What are you going to do with it? Invest it in the business?”

“I don’t think so,” I said, waving the envelope around. “I think it’s about time I showed you around.”

“You’re not being very clear, Leo,” she said.

“I’ll leave Saturday to the part-timer. You and I can go to the mall.”

“The what?”

I smirked. “Only one of the greatest institutions in America!”

I couldn’t explain it, but the prospect of showing Mal around made me enormously excited.

“Is there a problem Leo?” she said.

“No, not really,” I said lazily. “Why do you ask?”

“You’re smiling like an idiot.”

The next day, I woke up before the sun was up. Waking up at sub-5AM times every weekday has that effect on you. Mal’s excessive grunting during her morning routine had become another fact of life for me. Sweat dropped down her temple as she did her one-armed push-ups. I didn’t get why she was training so hard when she could kick anyone’s ass already.

“This mall that you’re taking me to,” she said as she flipped to her feet, blonde braid whipping behind her. “Does it feature combat?”

“No,” I said flatly. “Well, it shouldn’t. Think of it like a market. Except, instead of having your neighbor sell you pig’s blood, you get to reap the benefits of a worldwide coalition or producers, designers and sellers.”

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“You’re awfully excited about all this, Leo, and I honestly can’t understand why.”

“You’ll see,” I said, winking. I tried a little too hard, and as a result my wink came off far creepier than intended. It made the Lord of Lords take a step back.

My effort could crash and burn. Just as easily, though, it could lead to Malquea learning more about the world. She might even give up her dreams of conquest altogether!

A man can dream, right?

I pushed for her to get ready, serving breakfast and coffee in record time. As soon as Mal finished the last of her toast, I pushed her out the apartment.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” she said.

“We want to get a good spot close to the entrance.”

“Must be a popular spot,” she remarked, her voice not holding even one-hundredth of the same energy that mine did. I took it unfazed.

The road was clear and the air icy. I had little trouble getting into the parking lot, passing by a big gold sign that held the mall’s name. There was a wealth of open spaces too; in fact, there were no cars at all.

“This place does not look very popular,” said Malquea, stepping out of the car as soon as I shut it off. I took one step out, the chilly night air slapping me across the face.

“Oh…”

Now I get it…

“What is it?” she said.

“The mall doesn’t open until 10 AM,” I said.

“And what time is it now?”

“It’s 6:30 AM.”

“Ah.”

“...”

“...”

“I, uh… I guess I got too into the idea.”

“Should we turn back?”

“We can grab food at a nearby restaurant,” I said. “Kill some time. People watching. It’ll be good for you.”

“You’re a fool, Leo,” she said, opening the door so hard I thought the handle might break. I hung my head low and left the parking lot, stopping a mile away at a place called Patty’s Pancake Pub.

The diner had white tiled flooring and smelled very strongly of syrup.

“So this is a restaurant…” said Mal as the waitress took us to our table. The waitress’ eyes dropped down and she was a little slow when moving, making me think she was at the tail-end of some ungodly shift.

“Would you say this is one of this world’s finer eating establishments?” said Mal.

“Not really…” I said. Just then, the waitress dropped our utensils in front of us and brought out a glass of water for each.

“It’s far more upscale than yours, though. They have water here.”

“I have water too!” I called out, making the people seated behind us jump.

“Don’t take it so personally,” said Mal. “I’m sure this Patty person just has far better sense of what the idea customer experience is.”

“Just look at the menu…” I said. As I saw her flipping through the sticky bound volume they called a menu, I was struck by a thought; Mal had no problem reading or talking English. It couldn’t have been the language they spoke over where she lived, right? I brought up the question to her.

“It sounds or reads no different from the language back home,” she said. “To be honest, I was quite surprised we’re able to communicate as well as we do. It might be due to some sort of changes that happened while I pushed through the rift.”

I was too hungry to press the question further. Instead, I called the waitress over and ordered french toast. Mal put her menu down, having a confident air about her.

“I’ll just order the meat,” she said.

“The what?” said the waitress.

“Just bring me a plate of meat,” she said. “I want to try something new.”

“We, um, we have meat as a side dish in many of our entrees.”

“Then bring me a plateful of those side dishes,” said Mal, crossing her arms.

“R-right away, then,” said the waitress.

“I guess I should’ve helped you pick an option,” I said, feeling a tad guilty.

“Nonsense. I ordered something perfectly reasonable,” said Mal.

We ate as slowly as we could, and even then we still had an hour to kill. By the time we went inside the mall (we were the first to enter), Malquea was already giving me grumpy looks. I had a defined path for us; a sportswear-slash-fashion store.

“What are we doing here?” she said.

“Buying clothes for you. Look, don’t the clothes on the mannequin look appealing to you?”

I pointed to the trackpants-wearing doll standing behind the window.

“This is so I stop using your own clothes?” she said.

“Less that, more so that you can have some clothes of your own.”

“And your plan is to exchange money for these goods?” she said.

“Yeah… that’s how commerce works, isn’t it?”

“It is… if you’re a weakling!”

Malquea threw her long braid back and laughed. The sound echoed through the nearly-empty mall, making me all the more aware of myself. I had half a mind to go back home and just order everything online.

“I’ll humor you,” I said with a sigh. “What would you do in this situation?”

“When I wasn’t yet living in infamy as the Lord of Lords, I used my strength to get whatever I wanted. Food, clothing, housing… my sword gave me all of that, all with little effort.”

“That won’t work here,” I said, grabbing her hand. “Nelson gave us enough cash to buy you a few things, so let’s keep it civil. All right?”

“Very well,” she said, clicking her tongue.

We quickly found the rack with a wide assortment of women’s trackpants.

“Good eye,” said the wide-eyed store clerk. “You found our clearance rack. Buy one, get one 50% off. Today only!”

“Great, good to hear,” I said. “Mal, what color do you want?”

“Do you have anything in blood red?” she said, absently looking through the rack.

“We don’t, I’m afraid,” said the store clerk.

“That’s fine,” I said. “Mal, any other colors that would do?”

“Pink is fine, I suppose,” she said.

“Ah yes, we do have that!” she said. The store clerk quickly pointed to the side with brightly colored pants.

There were eight different sizes on just that one color alone. Malquea picked the first one she found and held it up to me.

“What now?” she said.

“You should try it on to see if it will fit,” I said.

“That seems reasonable,” said Mal.

“Perfect!” said the store clerk. “Our dressing rooms are ov---Oh god!”

Malquea turned away from me and nonchalantly started stripping down. By the time my mind registered what was happening, Mal’s pants were halfway down her butt. I screamed at her to stop, the employee as red as a tomato.

“What’s with all the noise?” said Mal.

“You don’t do that here. There’s dressing rooms to change,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief that there weren’t more people around to witness that.

“That just seems inconvenient, having to walk all the way over there. Why not do it here where I have access to all the different sizes all at once?”

“I’ll carry them over,” I said, flustered. I gathered all the pink trackpants and hoisted them over my shoulder. “Let’s just put you in a dressing room before we get in some kind of list.”

As I took Malquea by the hand, the employee’s “Er-hem” sounds got me to stop.

“What is it?” I said. I was so done with shopping and the mall had only been open for ten minutes.

“We require that everyone wear underwear before they try on our merchandise,” she said.

“What are you--”

It dawned on me that the only reason I could see her butt at all was because Malquea wasn’t wearing underwear. I apologized again and held out my hand as the store clerk handed me an overpriced package of four pairs of women’s underwear.

Two hours and $402.53 later, the fearsome Lord of Lords had her own wardrobe, filled with trackpants and sweats and hoodies.