The Allure of Silk and the Chase

Sovenia possessed twenty gold coins, including the proceeds from her last sale of spoils. In this secluded little town, she intended to leverage these coins for her grand ambition of becoming a formidable warrior and establishing her base.

She visited the armor shop, trying on various pieces: a plate chest piece, vambraces, and greaves. While the chest plate offered vital protection and felt appropriate, the vambraces and greaves proved too noisy and restrictive, hindering her agility.

What truly bothered her was the excessive attention she drew from the humans.

Upon seeing her enter to try on armor, the shop owner immediately dropped his work, his enthusiasm practically overflowing.

As she continued trying on pieces, a crowd began to gather outside the shop, some even peering through the windows. Sovenia paid no mind to their stares, ultimately purchasing only the plate chest piece for three hundred copper coins.

Next, she proceeded to the horse market, where she acquired a four-wheeled carriage and a draft horse. She then spent seven gold coins and fifty silver coins on a warhorse, bringing her total expenditure, including various equipment and tack, to twelve gold coins.

During her purchases, some men, noticing the sheer volume of her acquisitions, brazenly offered themselves as “free servants,” their faces alight with eager smiles. Sovenia cast a single glance their way, a thought forming in her mind:

‘Perhaps I should lure him to a secluded spot, lop off his head, and test my sword in the process.’

Perhaps her killing intent inadvertently leaked, for the men immediately recoiled and retreated.

After her shopping spree concluded,

Her coin purse felt significantly lighter. Sovenia weighed the remaining eight gold coins in her hand, realizing she still needed to purchase several changes of clothes.

She entered the clothing store, the same one she had visited before, as it was the only establishment of its kind in the small town.

The shop was filled with drab, coarse linen garments of common design. Sovenia’s gaze swept over them, and just as she prepared to select a few inexpensive and durable pieces, her eyes involuntarily drifted to a clothes rack tucked away in the corner.

There, displayed on its own stand, hung a pristine white dress. Crafted from silk, it shimmered with a soft luster even in the dim light. Its sleeves puffed delicately, and though the skirt was short, it billowed out like a cloud.

Sovenia found herself staring at the dress.

Two gold coins.

She recalled inquiring about its price during her previous visit. Two gold coins could purchase several sets of ordinary, durable, and easily washable clothes. Her funds, she reasoned, ought to be allocated to items of greater tactical value.

Certainly not on this pure white garment, which offered no protection, possessed only superficial beauty, and utterly lacked any tactical utility.

‘I am Jimi the Cruel,’ she reminded herself, ‘not some vain elven maiden.’

She ought to turn and depart.

She mentally commanded herself to leave.

Yet, her feet remained rooted to the spot.

She remembered her days as Jimi, when she cared little for attire. Armor was armor, clothes were clothes; as long as they served their purpose, they were sufficient. On the battlefield, those fools who prioritized their appearance were always the first to fall.

Now, however, as she gazed at the dress, a strange longing stirred within her.

She desired to wear it.

The thought infuriated her. She was the First Heavenly King, Jimi the Cruel, the Human Butcher, the Elf’s Nightmare, the Demon Race’s Blade!

Her fingers clenched tightly.

How many useful things could two gold coins buy? Medicines, arrows – she should be rational, considering items of greater tactical worth.

Yet, the dress continued to gleam with a soft luster in the light.

“Miss!” the shop owner called out, “Won’t you take a closer look at that dress? It’s made of Ceylon silk, and there’s only one shop in the entire kingdom where you can find it. And just look at this silver thread…”

“Last time you claimed it was Zhendan silk,” Sovenia replied, without turning around.

“Ah, was it?” The shop owner chuckled awkwardly. “Perhaps I misremembered. But it is indeed exquisite silk, and it would undoubtedly suit you perfectly.”

Sovenia’s fingers relaxed, then clenched once more.

This was a waste, a choice utterly devoid of tactical value. More than that, it was the elven body itself corrupting her will.

‘How dreadful.’

“Goodbye.”

She had intended to speak those words.

Instead, she found herself walking towards that clothes rack.

The silk glided over her fingertips, cool and fluidly soft. Silver embroidery adorned the hem, shimmering in the light.

“How much?” she heard herself ask.

“Two gold coins, Miss.”

Sovenia withdrew two gold coins from her purse and placed them on the counter.

The shop owner promptly took the dress down, carefully wrapped it in cloth, and handed it to her.

Sovenia walked out of the shop, holding the dress. Her mind felt utterly blank. Two gold coins, simply gone. She should have used that money for more practical items, not a frivolous, impractical dress.

‘This is all the elven body’s fault!’

She cursed silently, convinced that this cursed body was eroding her very will.

She ought to have been more rational, more like a Demon Heavenly King, choosing options with clear tactical value!

Yet, despite her internal struggle, the weight of the dress on her arm, its soft touch, brought a strange sense of satisfaction bubbling up within her.

Leading her warhorse, with the laden four-wheeled carriage trailing behind, she made her way back to the inn.

In the inn courtyard, Wawalde was engaged in repairing a saddle. Upon seeing Sovenia return with the carriage, the awl in his hand nearly pricked him.

“Miss Sovenia, you… you bought so many things?”

Sovenia tethered the reins to a wooden post. She then approached the carriage, pointing to the items within the compartment, her expression unreadable. “A four-wheeled carriage can be used to transport logistical supplies. A warhorse is for quick, short-distance travel.”

“But don’t you have a divine steed?” Wawalde asked, rising to his feet.

“That one is yours, not mine.”

“Still, these are quite a lot,” Wawalde observed, eyeing the carriage compartment overflowing with hay, feed, horse tack, and tools. “And you’ll need someone to look after them.”

Sovenia remained silent for a few seconds.

“True,” she stated. “Therefore, I should also purchase a dog.”

Wawalde froze.

“A dog?”

“Yes,” Sovenia affirmed with a nod. “Dogs can guard the home and assist with pulling the carriage. Furthermore, dogs don’t require wages; they simply need to be fed. I had considered buying people, but I don’t trust them. ‘Especially those who offer themselves for free.'”

“Miss Sovenia…” Wawalde rubbed his forehead. “Don’t you think you’ve acquired a bit too much?”

“Not at all,” Sovenia replied, gesturing towards the carriage. “These are all necessities. A dog is also a necessity. And—”

She paused. “I also feel I should acquire a chicken.”

“A chicken?”

“Yes. Fresh eggs provide protein, and chickens don’t require wages; they can forage for themselves.”

Wawalde stared at her for several seconds. After a brief moment spent pondering the concept of protein, he asked:

“Miss Sovenia, are you planning to start a farm?”

“A farm?” Sovenia frowned. “I am merely implementing sound logistical planning. A dog can guard, a chicken can lay eggs, a carriage can transport supplies, and a warhorse can move swiftly. These are all fundamental necessities.”

“But we need to travel light,” Wawalde countered. “I must return to my family’s territory immediately, deliver relics to my comrades’ families, find a way to retire, then contend with all the hero’s honors, and finally figure out how to settle you…”

“We don’t have time to drag an entire farm around with us.”

“That’s acceptable too,” Sovenia interrupted him. “You can simply ride your divine steed directly to your destination.”

Wawalde fell silent.

“I’m still worried about you,” he murmured.

Sovenia’s ears twitched. She turned to face Wawalde.

“Oh, right,” she said. “This four-wheeled carriage has another use.”

“What use?”

Sovenia offered no reply. She stepped into the carriage compartment and drew the curtains closed.

****

The carriage interior was dim. Sovenia unbuckled her belt, shedding her brown skirt and grey top, which now struck her as increasingly drab.

Her fingers brushed against the wrapped white dress. She paused for a moment, then swiftly untied the cloth package.

The silk unfolded in her hands, so soft it felt weightless.

She slipped on the dress. The puff sleeves cinched her arms, and the hem reached only to her mid-thigh, even shorter than her usual skirts. She glanced down at her legs, her thighs completely exposed to the air above her knee-high leather boots.

‘Wawalde will see this in a moment.’

Her heart suddenly quickened its pace.

It was strange. She had merely changed her clothes, so why was her heart racing?

She was Jimi the Cruel, having witnessed countless battlefields and endured countless life-or-death struggles. A mere dress should not accelerate her pulse.

The last time her heart had raced was during what humans called the “Sacred Blood Roland Campaign,” when tens of thousands of soldiers had assailed her.

Yet, her palms were sweating.

She took a deep breath, pushed aside the carriage curtain, and stepped out.

The skirt swayed with her movements. The space between her thighs and calves felt airy, and a cool breeze swept across her skin.

Wawalde stood in the courtyard, his back to the carriage. Hearing footsteps, he turned around and froze.

His gaze traveled from Sovenia’s face to the dress, then from the dress to her exposed legs, and finally back to her face. He opened his mouth, but no sound emerged.

Sovenia stood beside the carriage, her hands at her sides, her expression utterly serene.

“What do you think?” she inquired.

Her voice was flat, devoid of any discernible emotion, yet the tips of her ears trembled subtly.

Wawalde swallowed hard.

“Miss Sovenia, you are very beautiful.”

“Oh.”

Her face remained expressionless, but her long ears bent back slightly, then perked up once more.

She drew the Moonpetal Blade from her waist and made a few practice swings. The blade carved silvery-white arcs through the air, and her skirt flared with her movements, revealing even more of her legs.

“Do you perceive any flaws, then?” she asked.

Wawalde hesitated.

“Yes, but…”

“No nonsense,” Sovenia interjected, fixing him with her gaze.

“You’re a bit too pale,” Wawalde said. “Dressed all in white, you look like…”

“A corpse three days dead,” Sovenia finished for him.

“You said that yourself,” Wawalde quickly clarified, raising his hands. “I certainly didn’t.”

Sovenia sheathed her sword, her long ears flattening back, making her head appear considerably rounder. She strode purposefully towards Wawalde, then abruptly pointed at his neck.

“Wawalde, look! Your true form is exposed!”

Wawalde’s expression shifted drastically.

“Where?” His hand immediately flew to his neck.

Sovenia tilted her head.

“It flashed by just now,” she explained. “Therefore, I need to assist you, to teach you an effective method of disguise.”

Wawalde sighed in relief.

“How?”

“Stick out your butt.”

Wawalde paused. “What?”

At Sovenia’s words, Wawalde instinctively stuck out his butt.

Sovenia drew her sword, pointing the flat of the blade at Wawalde’s backside, about to strike.

Wawalde reacted swiftly, blocking the blade with his hand, his eyes fixed on Sovenia.

“Miss Sovenia, you’re tricking me.”

Sovenia had already dashed away.

Holding her skirt, she ran around the courtyard. The white silk skirt billowed between her legs, shimmering in the sunlight. She moved swiftly, her boots clattering on the flagstones.

Wawalde gave chase.

“Miss Sovenia, stop!”

“No.”

They circled the courtyard, Sovenia leading, Wawalde pursuing. Sovenia’s movements were remarkably agile, her long strides covering a distance equivalent to Wawalde’s one and a half.

Wawalde nearly caught her, reaching out to grasp her skirt, but Sovenia spun deftly, the fabric slipping from his fingertips.

“You can’t catch me,” Sovenia declared, her voice still flat, yet her ears stood perfectly erect.

“Oh really?”

Wawalde accelerated. He circled the carriage, effectively blocking Sovenia from another direction. Sovenia halted, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed the paths blocked before and behind her.

She turned and sprinted towards the stable.

Wawalde followed closely, his hand almost grasping her arm. Sovenia executed a sudden, sharp turn, her skirt flaring in the air, and slipped inside the stable entrance.

Wawalde reached the doorway, where he found Sovenia standing inside, leaning against a wooden fence, her snow-white long ears twitching.

“Are you still chasing?” she asked.

Wawalde panted, gazing at her. Sunlight streamed obliquely through the doorway, illuminating her silver hair. Her face remained expressionless, but her golden eyes sparkled with the light.

The inn’s second-story window was open. Sir Gernon stood by it, a glass of wine in hand, watching the two figures chasing each other in the courtyard.

He sighed, took a sip of his wine, lost in thought. “What a lively young couple,” he murmured to himself. “But these good times won’t last.”