Scroll 30: Playing a Dress-Up Game?

Alaster shifted his weight back onto his feet as he felt the gentle grip of those hands release him.

However, just as he was about to turn around to see who had saved him, those same hands quickly moved to cover his eyes.

A deep, strangely forced voice spoke into his ear with pretended authority:

—Don't move! You have a weapon, I could feel it when I kidnapped you. Drop your pants!—

The elf couldn't help but smile, instantly recognizing the warmth of the person holding him. Deciding to play along, he replied in a pitiful tone:

—I'm sorry... I have a wife and possibly a child on the way.—

Behind him, he heard Jinneth mutter under her breath, completely losing the forced intonation of her acting:

—What is he even talking about...?—

Quickly regaining her composure, the deep voice pressed on once more:

—You're lying!—

Alaster held back his laughter, taking the opportunity to drop a heavy prank:

—This morning, neither of us uttered the contraceptive incantation... Have mercy, I'll be a father soon.—

Instantly, the hands snapped away from him.

Alaster turned around with a grin only to find Jinneth covering her face with both hands, utterly overwhelmed and her cheeks burning hot.

—No way... Gods... I'm going to... Am I...?—the young woman stammered, processing the lie.

Before the idea could sink any deeper into her mind and actual panic took hold of her, Alaster placed a hand gently on her shoulder.

—Relax, I'm just joking—he said, letting out a soft laugh.

The blonde uncovered her face, revealing an expression as pale as paper, before delivering an indignant smack to his arm.

—Those are not things to joke about!—she scolded him, though upon seeing the amusement in the elf's eyes, her anger began to dissipate.

Alaster simply laughed harder, feeling the adrenaline from the escape finally winding down.

—Al... let's stop joking around—the baker pleaded, trying to regain her seriousness—. Seriously.

Alaster looked around, inspecting the place.

The hustle and bustle of the cobblestone street was no longer audible, replaced by the scent of clean fabrics and waxed wood. There were racks packed with hanging garments and full-length mirrors on the walls.

—Where are we?—he asked.

—This is a clothing store—Jinneth explained, crossing her arms—. A friend of mine works here.

Before he could inquire further, the young woman pointed a finger at him, pouting in a way that betrayed her anxiety.

—But don't ask. I'm the one asking questions here. Why is the entire East District guard chasing you through the streets?—

Alaster spotted a slender figure behind the main counter. It was a girl with striking, dark-blue dyed hair who was watching them with curiosity.

The elf waved at her friendly, and she returned the gesture with an amused smile.

Alaster began to walk slowly through the shop, looking over the garment designs while speaking in a distracted manner:

—I ran into our guard friend.—

Jinneth furrowed her brow, keeping pace with him.

—Which guard friend? Do we have a friend in the guard?—

Within a few seconds, the blonde caught the irony in his words.

—Are you talking about that asshole Grolen?—

—Yeah, that very one—Alaster nodded—. We had a few differences of opinion. He wanted to kill me, and honestly, I didn't agree with his proposal. So I gave him and his men a bit of a beating.—

Internally, Joseph knew that Jinneth, with her sweet disposition, probably wouldn't approve of the fact that he had impaled several men with solid ice spears in a dark alley, so he preferred to gloss over the details of the fight.

—But why are so many chasing you?—the baker insisted.

—Because that coward and his friends called in every available reinforcement when they saw they couldn't beat me—the elf explained.

—Oh—Jinneth replied flatly.

Alaster stopped dead in his tracks and snapped his head around to look at her, astonished by her plain reaction.

«Oh? She just says "oh"? Like she stepped in a mud puddle... No, if she stepped in mud, she'd make a much bigger fuss.»

—I think I'll have to leave the city, Jin—the elf finally declared, stepping closer to her with a serious expression.

—What?—she reacted immediately—. Just because you roughed up some corrupt guards?—

From the counter, Leila let out an amused snort, drawing the attention of both.

—I won't be able to hide anywhere—Alaster argued, pointing to his head—. My blue hair stands out way too much in the city crowd. Just by spotting my head, they'll capture me right away.—

Jinneth and Leila shared a knowing look and burst into laughter at the same time, leaving the elf completely bewildered.

—Al... sweetheart—Jinneth said in a tender tone, stepping in to take his hand—. Do you really think Leila's hair is that dark blue color by birth?—

Alaster stared at the girl behind the counter.

—No—he admitted.

—Of course not!—the baker exclaimed enthusiastically—. We just need to change your hair color, move you to another inn where they aren't looking for you, and that's it. Problem solved.—

Alaster arched a brow, doubtful.

—You make it sound too easy.—

—It is easy—Jinneth assured, winking at him—. Just leave it to me and Leila.—

A few agonizing seconds later...

—Try it on, Al. You have nothing to lose—Jinneth insisted, gently nudging him toward the changing room while sharing an eager look with Leila.

When the velvet curtain slid open minutes later, the silence in the private section of the shop grew heavy.

Alaster took a step forward, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

His hair, which thanks to the magical device Jinneth had activated moments before was no longer a gelid blue but a deep, glossy jet-black, fell over his shoulders, accentuating his skin tone.

The outfit Jinneth and Leila had selected from the exclusive racks was, by high-society etiquette standards, lightweight ceremonial armor.

It consisted of black trousers made of elastic fabric that hugged his muscular legs firmly, and an intricate set of ultra-thin metal plates on his torso.

The fine lines of golden metal, polished to a mirror sheen, adhered directly to his chest, shoulders, and abdomen, drawing symmetrical patterns that mimicked tribal tattoos.

Alaster felt practically naked.

The minimalist armor hid absolutely nothing; every contour of his pectorals and the sharp definition of his abs were exposed between the golden slits, shifting with every breath.

—Isn't this... a bit excessive for walking down the street?—Alaster asked, feeling a slight flush of shyness creeping up his neck as he kept his hands at his sides, tense—. It feels like I forgot half my clothes.—

—Not at all!—Jinneth and Leila replied in unison, barely drawing breath.

Exactly the same thought crossed both of their minds.

It was true that many young people in the capital wore elven-inspired garments out of pure fashion, but on most humans, it looked loose or ridiculous. On Alaster, with his natural poise, the attire made him look like a warrior deity descended from an altar.

Leila began to discreetly fan her face with a lace fan, her cheeks flushed.

Jinneth, for her part, took a step forward and extended a hand, tracing the tips of her fingers over the golden metal on his shoulder.

The contrast between the coldness of the armor and the warmth of the elf's skin beneath the gaps made the blonde's pulse race.

The scene soon gained more spectators. Two noble female customers exiting the adjacent changing rooms froze in place, devouring the elf with their eyes.

Right at that moment, an oak door behind the counter swung open and Ximera, the store owner, entered the showroom carrying a heavy blue dress.

—Hey, Leila, remind me to return this batch to the textile mill, they got the col...—Ximera cut her own sentence short as she looked up.

She was a mature, slender woman with dangerously well-maintained curves and a mane of red hair that betrayed a fierce character.

Upon seeing Alaster in the center of the room, surrounded by the four women who were staring at him like lionesses at a prey, Ximera dropped the dress onto the counter without caring that it wrinkled.

To her eyes, this black-haired elf was wearing the hottest design for gentlemen she kept in her inventory.

«Hottest than that would be stripping him naked», she thought to herself with a feline smile as she walked toward the group.

Jinneth immediately noticed the predatory attention of the women.

Instead of shrinking back, the blonde straightened her spine and linked her arm with Alaster's, sporting a smug smile.

The envy in the air was so thick it could almost be cut with a knife, and Jinneth found that absolutely wonderful. «Mine. You can only look», she gloated internally.

—Many young men these days wear this type of clothing—Ximera chimed in, approaching Alaster with a measuring tape draped around her neck. Her voice was magnetic, a slow drawl—. Though on a handsome elf like you, it fits... considerably better.—

With total impunity, Ximera raised a hand, pretending to evaluate the drape of one of the golden lines on Alaster's shoulder.

Then, with a slow and brazen movement, she slid her palm downward, tracing the elf's chest and firmly caressing the pit of his stomach before pulling away.

Alaster tensed, catching his breath at the woman's audacity.

Jinneth, beside him, wiped the smile off her face instantly; her eyes widened with pure fury, and she locked a look of deadly hatred onto the redhead.

«Oops», Ximera mocked in her mind, noticing the young woman's reaction. She glanced sideways at Jinneth. «Lock him in your room then, girl.»

Without showing a shred of embarrassment, Ximera softened her tone even further, locking her eyes onto Alaster's violet ones.

—If you need me to adjust any garment so it fits you even more... comfortably, I'm always available. At any hour—she added, letting her other hand rest on the elf's lower abdomen to feel his defined muscles.

The two female employees and the clients held their breath in a corner.

No one in the shop was ignorant of who Ximera was: she was famous in the Lower District for being the third wife of a high-ranking criminal who controlled the shadiest businesses in Sibar, a woman with skin as thick and cold as a snake's.

—I can fix it!—Jinneth hissed.

Stepping forward abruptly, the blonde used her shoulder to shove Ximera hard, sending her stumbling back a couple of steps.

The owner's face contorted into a frown for a fraction of a second upon hearing the muffled giggles of the customers in the background, but she regained her composure immediately. Her eyes dripped venom as she swept her gaze over the women who were snickering.

—Are you judging me because you don't have the pants to do the same?—Ximera stated, raising an accusing brow with contempt—. Hypocrites!—

Alaster, feeling uncomfortable under the stares, decided to intervene, unwittingly defusing the secret war.

—I think... I should try something else on—he proposed, taking a step back.

Instantly, all six women snapped toward him, glaring with irritated looks.

Even Jinneth looked at him reproachfully, annoyed that he had cut off her moment of glory where she was enjoying being the center of everyone else's envy.

Alaster raised both hands in surrender, taking a step back into the changing room.

«No, well... never mind then», he thought, slamming the curtain shut.

Thirty minutes later, after paying a considerable amount of silver coins which the salesgirl collected bashfully, the couple left the establishment through the back door.

Their appearances had changed radically.

Jinneth sported a fresh, renewed look: she wore black trousers fitted to her hips that stylized her legs, a white, gray, and pink checkered blouse, and a cream sun hat with a blue ribbon covering her hair, which was now magically dyed a shade of red.

Alaster, on his part, wore a long black leather trench coat, open at the front, paired with gray trousers and tall leather boots that devoured his calves.

Underneath the trench coat, however, he wore the garment Jinneth had imposed on him out of pure whim: a black shirt crafted from Kibora skin.

The skin, smooth as silk but as tight as combat spandex, clung to his torso, revealing every contour of his muscles. It was the latest fashion among the chambers of lords of the high nobility, but Alaster walked along adjusting his lapel every now and then out of pure modesty.

Behind them, Leila had handed them three large bags of fine cloth adorned with the store's runic cords, where they kept the rest of the purchased changes of clothes.

—It's time to try this out—Alaster murmured as they stepped into a lonely alley.

He extended his right hand forward.

After channeling mana into the ring for a few seconds.

[Invoking Dimensional Space - Cost: 150 MP]

With a swift flick of his fingers, Alaster made a slashing motion in the air.

The space in front of him seemed to rip open, tearing a linear fracture that revealed a dark, starry void.

Without wasting time, he tossed the three heavy cloth bags inside the rift. The objects vanished instantly, and the fracture closed with a subtle hiss, leaving the alley as ordinary as before.

Checking his mental interface, Alaster noted that his rudimentary inventory had registered the bags of clothing and the individual outfits separately.

—Handy—Alaster commented, checking that his mana reserves were beginning to regenerate—. Let's go.

Around three in the afternoon, the couple merged into the main avenues of the commercial district. The din was deafening.

Hundreds of people packed the cobblestone sidewalks; merchants shouted from their stalls offering fresh fish, exotic overseas spices, and magical trinkets, drawing in customers with powerful voices.

They walked keeping their heads low, trying to blend into the human tide, but luck was not on their side.

Upon reaching the intersection of Harbor Avenue, Alaster spotted the metallic gleam of regulatory pauldrons. A patrol of six guards was advancing in their direction.

—To the left, walk—Alaster whispered, taking Jinneth by the shoulder to force her to change direction into a side street.

They had to repeat the maneuver two more times over the next few blocks. The district was under siege.

On the last occasion, peaking around a corner after a carriage passed, Alaster froze.

Barely fifteen meters away, a mage dressed in the city's emblem on his robe was walking alongside two guards escorting him.

The mage examined the faces of every pedestrian with wide, bulging eyes, one hand resting on a wand tucked into his belt.

Alaster pressed his back against the wall, pulling Jinneth with him.

They waited for the patrol to pass by before undertaking a fast, zigzagging march through a labyrinth of commercial passages, holding their breath at every step so as not to raise suspicion.

Minutes later, with their muscles tense and adrenaline burning in their chests, they came out onto a commercial street that was a bit clearer but equally busy.

Both stopped on the sidewalk, exhausted, resting their hands on their knees as they panted heavily to catch the breath that the brisk walk had stolen from them.

—Al... Al!—Jinneth's stifled whisper cut through the silence of their recovery.

Alaster felt the girl's fingers tugging urgently at the sleeve of his trench coat and then pressing his shoulder insistently.

—Look! It's the shop!—she urged in a tiny voice.

Still with his palms resting on his knees and his chest heaving from exhaustion, Alaster straightened his torso and turned his head toward where the redhead was pointing.

His violet eyes focused on an elegant, carved wooden sign hanging over an imposing establishment with a bluish facade: "Sea Sapphire".

It was the runic supply and jewelry shop that Arya had fervently recommended to him before all this chaos started.

However, the relief of having found the place vanished instantly.

About thirty feet away, right in front of the shop's entrance, an elf of effortless elegance and dazzling golden hair was conversing animatedly with a middle-aged woman dressed in highly expensive silks.

The elf held a refined-design dress, showing her the details of the embroidery with elegant movements while the woman smiled complacently.

Alaster's pupils contracted. A sudden chill ran down his spine, making him forget the exhaustion of the flight.

«No way...», Alaster thought, feeling cold sweat break out on his temples as he locked his gaze onto the stranger. This figure carried himself with a sharp intelligence, an effortless elegance, and a profound wisdom—making Arya look like an absolute disappointment. «He's a real elf. If I get close... will he be able to tell that I'm a fake elf?»