Chapter 43 End of The Week

The next three days went by almost peacefully—almost. The merchant heir from before seemed to have developed a survival instinct, which was quite an achievement. Whenever he spotted Amos from a distance, he would promptly change direction, sometimes even pulling his companions along with him. Amos saw this as excellent progress, while Edith took it as proof that he had traumatized. Neither of them said a word about it.

The routine settled in effortlessly. They’d meet at the fountain, wander aimlessly, browse odd products, grab snacks, and watch Amos inevitably get sidetracked by something absurd. Then they’d do it all over again. Neither of them questioned it—at some point, it just became the norm.

***

On the fourth day. Amos discovered a merchant selling miniature enchanted golems.

"They're adorable."

The merchant nodded proudly. "They also can carry messages."

Amos stared, then glanced at Edith, then back at the golem, and once more at Edith. The merchant suddenly felt uneasy. Minutes later, Edith was holding a tiny golem in a ridiculous hat. It saluted her. She stared. It saluted again. Amos looked immensely proud.

Edith wrote:

You wasted money.

"It was an investment."

On what?

"Memory."

***

On the fifth day, they attended an exhibition of magical inventions. One device exploded—not disastrously, but just enough to send its creator flying into a nearby fountain. Dripping wet, the inventor emerged and proudly proclaimed the test a success. Amos admired that kind of confidence, while Edith was far from impressed.

On the sixth day, they hardly spoke—not because something had happened, but because nothing had. They’d simply grown comfortable enough to enjoy the quiet. Walking side by side, watching the crowds, sharing snacks, it was the kind of silence that felt easy, the kind that comes when two people no longer feel the need to fill every moment with words or even written notes. Even Amos noticed, though he’d never admit it.

And then—  

The final day came. The last day of the Merchant Summit, the last before everyone went back to their own lives.  The air felt different, as if they both knew this was the end but neither said a word.  

The afternoon sun painted the streets gold.

The crowds had thinned, and many merchants were already getting ready to leave—packing up their goods, settling contracts, heading home. Amos and Edith strolled through the market one last time, aimless and unhurried, simply walking.

Eventually, Amos came to a halt, his gaze fixed on a small jewelry stall. Edith nearly kept walking before realizing he wasn’t behind her. She turned to see him staring intently at something, while the merchant watched with a smile.

"A gift for your sweetheart?"

"No."

The merchant's smile widened.

"Of course."

"No."

"Naturally."

"You're not listening."

The merchant clearly wasn't.

***

A few minutes later, Amos came back with a small box in his hands. Edith blinked in surprise as he held it out to her.

"For you."

She stopped cold, utterly still, then gestured toward herself."Yes."

A pause.

"You."

Another pause.

"Unless there is another mute pink-haired girl following me around."

Edith accepted the box with care, as afraid it might vanish. Inside, she found a delicate silver hairpin, its center adorned with a tiny crystal flower. Edith stared silently.

"It reminded me of you."

"Simple."

Edith looked up.

"Quiet."

Another pause.

"But surprisingly difficult."

She immediately glared.

Amos grinned. "There she is."

The notebook appeared.

That was not a compliment.

"It absolutely was."

No.

"Yes."

No.

"Accept it."

Edith looked like she might hurl the notebook at him. Her fingers curled softly around the hairpin. That was all he needed to see.

***

Evening settled in far too quickly. The last sunset of the summit washed the sky in shades of orange and gold. The fountain where they had first met stood still under the dimming light—just like before. Except this time, they both knew it was over. For a while, neither moved or spoke, letting the gentle sound of the water fill the space between them. Then Amos let out a quiet sigh.

"Well."

Edith looked at him.

"This is probably goodbye."

The words felt odd—more than they should. The notebook appeared, then paused, over and over, like she couldn’t decide what to write. And for once, neither could Amos.

Eventually she wrote:

Thank you.

Just like the first day. Amos smiled. "You're welcome."

"You know."

He laughed.

"We spent an entire week together."

Edith blinked.

Then realized.

"Exactly."

The notebook appeared immediately.

Wait.

"Yes."

We never did exchanged names.

"Correct."

How?

"I have no idea."

They stared at each other.

It had been a whole week—seven days filled with countless conversations and endless walks—and neither of them had ever asked. The thought was so ridiculous that Amos burst out laughing. Edith looked just as surprised, and then—to his amazement—she started laughing too. Silent, shoulders trembling, hand covering her mouth. A real laugh. The first he’d seen from her. And somehow, that was enough. Amos smiled.

"Well." He turned away. "If fate wants us to know each other's names." He began walking.

"Then maybe we'll meet again."

Edith stood frozen, watching him walk away as the setting sun bathed his figure in gold. For a fleeting moment, wanted to stop him—to ask, to tell him, just one name, one word, anything. But the moment slipped by, and neither of them moved. Without turning, Amos raised a hand in a casual farewell.

"Take care, rich girl."

Edith smiled with a touch sadness, then lifted her hand in farewell. The distance between them widened, step by step, until the crowd swallowed him from view. He was gone, leaving behind only memories, a silver hairpin, and a name neither of them truly knew.

***

That night, Edith sat quietly in her room. The summit had ended, and tomorrow she would be leaving. She held a silver hairpin in her hands, her fingers gently tracing the crystal flower. A soft knock came at the door, and her sister stepped inside. Her eyes caught the expression on Edith’s face, then the hairpin, and finally the faraway look in her eyes. She paused.

"Oh."

Edith glanced aside, and her sister let out a deep sigh, fully aware of what had just transpired.

"What is his name? The name of the person who got my sister looking like this."

Edith froze. Then, slowly, she held out her notebook. Her sister stared for several seconds at the single sentence written inside.

I forgot to ask.

Elodie closed her eyes.

"...How?"

Edith honestly didn't know.

And somewhere else in the city—

"A week."

"Yes."

"You spent an entire week with the girl."

"I did."

"You never learned her name."

"Correct."

Karos stared at him.

Amos stared back.

"..."

"..."

"Astonishing."

"Thank you."