"Since Ocarina is in the south, you probably haven't encountered Adalind," Pandora said, guiding them toward an elegant storefront. “Wait… are you listening to what I’m saying?”

  Acacia spaced out again.

  “...Ah, sorry. What did you say again?”

  "Let's use our listening ears this time," Pandora said, her tone carrying equal parts irritation and resignation. "As I was saying, this is Adalind—one of the Empire's premier boutiques. We’re stopping here because you need new clothes. I don’t know how you guys dressed in Ocarina, but wearing construction overalls over prisoner rags will make you look broke and homeless here. That is the opposite of being discreet.”

  The assessment, though harsh, carried undeniable logic. Acacia knew the best way to vanish into a new environment was to mirror its social patterns and aesthetics. Obvious disguises would only draw the attention he desperately needed to avoid. After his escape from Ocarina, returning wasn't an option, he needed to adapt.

  "Okay," he conceded, suppressing his instinctive aversion to shopping. "It can't be helped. If I'm going to be seen with someone in an Inquisitor's uniform, I can't look like I crawled out of a gutter."

  "As expected of Acacia. Your wisdom exceeds your years.”

  He might have shot her a dirty look if her point hadn't been so irrefutable. Instead, he followed her lead through the crowded streets until she paused before the storefront.

  The building before them embodied refinement with clean lines and artful displays speaking of wealth that didn't need to announce itself. While Acacia had known Pandora's position granted her considerable means, he hadn't expected her to frequent establishments of this caliber. It was a fancy establishment that offered tailored and custom-made clothing for all price ranges and occasions. Intrusive thoughts about women and shopping immediately rose to his head, but he crushed such potentially offensive inclinations.

  "So how am I changing out of these?" He gestured at his current attire.

  "The staff has private fitting rooms," she replied, already moving toward the entrance. "Though you shouldn’t remove anything until you've made selections."

  "You know what? This will be fine. We're already here, so let's just buy what we need and go home." He coped.

  "You don't fancy shopping? I guess that’s normal for a boy.”

  "I hate it,” he quickly said, making Pandora suspicious that there was a deeper reason for his disdain of shopping other than his gender.

  "Then let's make this as fast as possible. Pick something out that fits you, and I'll take care of the rest."

  With that said, they entered the establishment. Inside, natural light flowed through carefully positioned windows, casting a warm glow across displays of expertly crafted clothing. An attendant approached, her professional demeanor only briefly faltering at Acacia's current state before training reasserted control.

  "The young man requires a complete wardrobe. Something appropriate for daily life in Windsor." Pandora stated, her tone carrying enough authority to prevent any questions about her companion's appearance.

  The attendant could only respond with a nod.

  The next half hour unfolded in a carefully orchestrated sequence of measurements and selections. Acacia gravitated toward simpler pieces that emphasized function without sacrificing quality. After several trials, he settled on an ensemble the female attendants deemed acceptable: a red baseball jacket complemented by a white shirt and designer jeans. Refined yet inconspicuous.

  “See, that wasn’t as bad as you thought,” Pandora said as the two exited Adalind. While Acacia did hate shopping, he couldn’t help but feel an exquisite kind of jubilation after finding attire that best suited him. But he couldn’t let that woman have her victory!

  "It was manageable." Acacia adjusted his new attire. "Those fitting room attendants were rather... enthusiastic about touching my skin. They were talking about how ‘soft and smooth’ it is. Real disturbing."

  "If you say so. Maybe you can ask only male workers to take care of you in the future?"

  "That's even worse."

  "Oh? So you like it when girls touch you?" A trace of amusement colored her voice.

  "I'm choosing not to respond to that," Acacia said carefully. "Besides, those women were clearly older—"

  “How do you know that? Did they have their ages listed on their name cards? You probably assumed that they were older because they were taller than you—”

  “Will your shortphobia ever end?”

  "When you grow taller."

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Acacia gazed upward, silently condemning whatever force had bound his fate to this insufferable woman. Yet beneath their verbal sparring, he recognized an almost comfortable pattern developing in their interactions. The observation gave him pause. Pandora projected perpetual winter, yet occasionally he glimpsed something warmer beneath the frost.

  "Now that we've addressed your wardrobe," she continued, already moving toward their next objective, "we need to acquire you a cellphone. You'll need a reliable method of contacting me during my working hours."

  “Oh, seriously?! That’s friggin amazing!” Acacia beamed as he perked up. He had heard of the usefulness of cellphones before in newspapers, but Ocarina never had them in stock. Even if they were in stock, Acacia couldn’t ever hope of affording them. It was laughable to assume that the newest form of cutting-edge technology could ever be afforded by someone working minimum wage.

  "It's a practical necessity," Pandora maintained her businesslike tone. "Since you can't access Ley Lines, we need alternative communication methods. Cellphones are the current standard, so we might as well use them."

  The logic seemed sound on the surface, but something nagged at Acacia's mind. A simple two-way radio would have been enough for basic communication; a cellphone's additional capabilities such as music, messaging, and location tracking, far exceeded mere necessity.

  Either she's being more generous than she wants to admit…or she wants to monitor my movements.

  He filed the observation away as they navigated Windsor's streets toward one of Seven Shades Technologies' retail locations. The modernist structure commanded some level of attention as clean lines and gleaming surfaces established SST's dominance in the technological sphere.

  "You know SST?" Pandora asked, noting the recognition in his eyes.

  "They're one of the Empire's leading tech corporations. Even in Ocarina, their name carries weight. Windsor being their headquarters is common knowledge."

  He deliberately understated his knowledge, unwilling to reveal how many hours he'd spent studying their innovations.

  "I hadn't expected such awareness from—" She caught herself, but the implication hung between them.

  "From my background?" He completed her thought. "The company comes up in conversation."

  It wasn't entirely false. Employment at Seven Shades Technologies had once represented his greatest aspiration, a dream of transcending Ocarina's limitations through merit rather than Thaumaturgy.

  But that was before... everything. It was before he'd truly comprehended how power operated in the Empire, whether technological or thaumaturgical.

  They approached the store's entrance, where a considerable queue had already formed despite the early hour. A man greeted them at the counter, his professional smile firmly in place.

  "Hello! How can I help you today?"

  "I would like to get a cellphone, if possible," said Acacia.

  The man's smile faltered slightly. "Ah, I apologize, but we don't sell cellphones to children under sixteen years old. It's our newest device that is actually set to come out in two weeks nationally, and company policy requires us to be cautious about technology's effects on younger generations."

  Acacia froze, thrown by the blatant dismissal. Pandora remained silent beside him, clearly waiting to see how he would handle the situation. After a moment of stunned silence, he found his voice.

  "How do you know my age? I could be twenty-four for all you know."

  "Your height and voice are rather telling indicators," the man replied with a practiced chuckle. "Also, this building has [Bounded Field] that relays information about visitors' appearances, heights, weights, clothing, and potential weapons to our staff."

  “...[Bounded Field]?”

  "It's a subtype of Barrier Thaumaturgy," Pandora interjected. "You create a barrier of prana around a specified region, then calculate its permeability and visibility. The size, duration, and function all depend on the caster's skill. Most establishments like this one use them as security measures."

  She then stepped forward, producing her Inquisitor identification.

  "I believe an exception can be made when the guardian is a Centrum Supremum official."

  The man's complexion paled dramatically as he registered her credentials.

  "High Inquisitor Kircheisen! My sincerest apologies—yes, that arrangement is perfectly acceptable. I'll have our staff prepare the latest model immediately. We'd appreciate any and all feedback on how the younger generation responds to the technology, but that's a discussion for another time. Please, feel free to return anytime!"

  "Thank you very much." Pandora acknowledged his gratitude with a slight nod. As the man retreated to notify his colleagues, she caught Acacia studying her.

  "Something's been bothering me. Back at Adalind, they treated you like any other customer. Even when you walked through the streets, no one approached you or seemed to recognize you. But here..." He gestured at the man's retreating form. "You're supposedly Windsor's celebrity High Inquisitor, yet you move through the city virtually unnoticed. How?"

  "Nothing escapes your notice, does it?" Pandora sighed before continuing, "The Centrum Supremum teaches its members a particular technique—an Interference spell that prevents the hippocampus from connecting long-term memories of the caster's appearance. To most observers, I’m just the definition of an ‘average woman.’ My features fail to register in their minds."

  "Yet I can see you clearly," Acacia noted. "Another quirk of being an Irregular?"

  “That’s what’s bugging me. Interference spells can work on Irregulars since, despite not having prana, they do have a Subjective Reality that can be tampered with. But for you… I’m not sure what’s going on. I think I’ll just chalk it up to a deficiency with this spell in general."

  Acacia allowed himself a small smile. Finally, he was above Thaumaturges in something!

  "So you have two layers of concealment… hiding both Mercutio and your position as High Inquisitor. Must be exhausting, constantly managing how the world perceives you."

  Pandora paused momentarily, a bit taken aback at how casual and frank he was with her.

  "That's the Empire's reality," she said finally. "The talented and powerful become objects of fascination. Without exceptional Thaumaturgy, noble blood, or the right connections, one remains..." She trailed off, her expression suggesting memories she'd rather not revisit.

  "Are you sure you're only twenty-three? You're starting to sound like my grandma."

  Pandora scoffed and waved a hand at him dismissively. "Keep it up, and you'll find yourself sleeping on the streets."

  "Shouldn't you tell me not to speak so rudely to a lady, or do you not even consider yourself one?"

  His jest earned him a glare that could have frozen hell, to which he countered with a sneer.

  A quick ★ rating makes a huge difference right now.

  12 PM EST posting starting tomorrow so Swan Song gets more visibility and momentum. Let’s break into the 2,000s together!