Chapter 5: You Can Always Find Good Stuff in a Mysterious Little Shop, Right?

Ewan had the ducal carriage drop him off at a familiar high-end boutique. After coldly instructing his guards to wait out front, he promptly snuck out the back door like a seasoned delinquent.

With a simple disguise in place, he navigated the city’s labyrinthine streets, following a map burned into his new memory. He reached the river separating the opulent upper district from the grimy lower district and, under the cloak of twilight, leaped down into a large, shadowy drainage pipe.

The faint, sweet scent of decay filled his nostrils. Ewan wrinkled his nose in disgust, pulled on a mask, and disappeared into a voluminous black robe that completely hid his form before plunging deeper into the tunnel.

“Halt.”

A hulking figure blocked the end of the pipe.

“Who are you?” the figure grunted.

Ewan considered his answer. “A sewer rat.”

“What do you seek?”

“Rotten flesh.”

“Your token?”

Ewan held up a black, circular token. A lifelike rat was etched into its surface.

“Hmph. You may pass.”

The giant stepped aside, revealing an even narrower, darker passage. Ewan gave a curt nod, pocketed the token, and scurried past. For a fleeting moment, a sliver of light from a grate above illuminated the guard’s body. Ewan caught a glimpse of flesh that looked like decaying meat, writhing with countless maggots. The putrid stench of death that washed over him was a physical blow.

“Ugh. You just gotta love a high-fantasy world,” Ewan gagged, fighting the urge to vomit.

He didn’t dare linger, practically sprinting through the final passage.

He emerged into a space that opened up dramatically. A massive underground cavern stretched out before him, its walls embedded with strange, luminous stones that cast a soft, ethereal glow on the scene below. Figures cloaked in mysterious black robes bustled about, their faces hidden in shadow.

This was the infamous black market of Belland’s lower district—the city’s seedy underbelly. The rumor was that if you had enough coin, you could buy anything here. Or even anyone.

“Thank God I remembered how to get here,” Ewan breathed, a wave of genuine relief washing over him.

In the original novel, the protagonist was practically a VIP here, popping in every other week to stumble upon some priceless, world-ending artifact thanks to her absurd protagonist halo. Half the divine treasures she wielded later in the story were probably still gathering dust on some stall down here, mistaken for common junk.

Tempting as it was, Ewan had no plans to “intercept” her destiny. The book’s descriptions were vague, and his memory was spotty at best. He’d have an easier time finding a needle in a continent-sized haystack. Besides, messing with the protagonist’s loot was a surefire way to get the world’s timeline angry with him.

“Sigh. I’ve already committed to being a peaceful commoner. I need to stop thinking like a wannabe hero.”

Reining in his greed, Ewan began to scan the market. He wouldn’t normally need to visit a den of villainy like this just for an aphrodisiac, but his target wasn’t a normal person. He was going after Princess Celicia, the “Ice Witch.” Blessed by a goddess at birth, her command over ice magic was terrifying. At this point in the story, even the protagonist couldn’t beat her in a fight, let alone a divinely un-blessed and magically inept scrub like him.

“The last thing I need is for the potion to be too weak, resulting in me getting frozen solid and shattered into a million pieces before the hero even arrives to ‘save’ the day,” Ewan muttered with a grim chuckle.

Fortunately, he quickly spotted his destination.

At the far end of the main thoroughfare was a small, gloomy shop. A massive ram’s skull with impossibly large horns hung over the door, acting as a ghoulishly effective sign. Ewan recognized it instantly from the novel. The shop’s mysterious owner sold all sorts of strange and wonderful things. An aphrodisiac powerful enough for a princess should be on the menu.

Ewan pushed open the door, a wind chime announcing his arrival with a discordant jingle.

“Oh my, a customer! Finally! Please, please, do come in.”

The shopkeeper was also shrouded in a heavy black robe, their voice a hoarse rasp that was impossible to pin to a gender. As they looked at Ewan, however, two bright points of light gleamed from within their hood, like a predator sizing up its prey.

“Young master, what forbidden treasure can I find for you today? This establishment may be humble, but our inventory is anything but.”

“I’m looking…” Ewan began, then decided to cut to the chase. He didn’t have all night. “I need a sleeping draught. That kind.”

“Oho?”

He couldn’t see their face, but he could feel the shopkeeper’s grin widen into something wicked.

“A sleeping draught, is it? Say no more, I understand perfectly. Ah, you rich folk and your exotic little games. As it happens, I know a few traders with some very… high-quality slaves. Interested in a recommendation? For a small finder’s fee, of course. Mention my name and you’ll even get a discount…”

“…So you don’t have any. In that case, I’m leaving.”

“I do, I do! Of course, I do! The best in the city!”

The shopkeeper lunged, grabbing the hem of Ewan’s robe. They then turned and began rummaging through a chaotic pile of bottles and jars. As they bent over, the robe pulled taut, outlining a pair of shockingly full and perfectly shaped hips.

Well now, Ewan thought, stroking his chin with a scholarly air. With a rear like that, could our mysterious shopkeeper be a beautiful woman?

It was a mystery for another time. He hadn’t finished the novel, so maybe the owner did have a dramatic face reveal, but that was far beyond the scope of his current, soon-to-be-ruined life.

Jingle, jingle.

Just as Ewan was pondering this important question, the wind chime sang again. Another cloaked figure stepped inside. This one was smaller, more petite, and brought with them the faint, delicate scent of flowers.

Definitely a woman, he surmised.

“Hello,” the newcomer said, her voice clear but quiet. “Do you sell sleeping draughts here?”

“Welcome, welcome! A sleeping draught, you say? But of course, I… wait. What did you say?”

“I asked if you sell sleeping draughts.”

“You want one too?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“No, not a problem at all!”

The shopkeeper shot Ewan a look that clearly said what is going on today? before turning back to rummage through their stock once more.

She’s also here for a sleeping draught? Ewan discreetly glanced at the woman beside him. Do women need that sort of thing? She must be planning to ruin some poor guy’s life. A shame I can’t intervene. I can only pray her nefarious plot ends in failure.

Sigh. He let out a silent, internal sigh. Who am I kidding? What I’m about to do is just as bad. I’m in no position to judge.

“Ah, here we are!”

A moment later, the shopkeeper triumphantly produced two small, exquisitely crafted vials, placing one before Ewan and the other before the woman.

Ewan picked his up. Inside was a shimmering, dark red liquid.

“This color…”

He stared at it, utterly dumbfounded.

It was bright red.

Did they want him to get caught?