They lingered at the edge of the courtyard, letting the music wash over them for a few minutes before moving on. None of them seemed in a hurry to break the calm, but Max eventually gave a slight nod toward a side exit that led them back onto a broader, sunlit avenue.
Here, the buildings took on a more historic style—arched doorways, tall wooden shutters, and cobblestones polished smooth by years of foot traffic. Signs hung from wrought-iron brackets, many hand-painted rather than holographic, giving the street an almost timeless feel.
They passed a bakery where the scent of fresh bread spilled into the street, mingling with the faint bitterness of roasted coffee beans from the shop next door. Gwen's gaze drifted toward a display of delicate fruit tarts in the bakery window, each one arranged with precise symmetry. She didn't stop, but her faint smile suggested she'd remembered the location.
A few streets over, they reached a small market square where artisans had set up temporary stalls. One woman sold jewelry made from fragments of meteorite, each piece shaped and polished until it gleamed with a soft silver sheen. Another offered leather-bound journals, the covers embossed with abstract constellations that shifted subtly when tilted.
Mu Qing paused to examine a table covered in carved figurines—birds, fish, and mythical beasts, all rendered from a pale stone that seemed to shimmer faintly under the sunlight. She turned one over in her hand, considering it for a moment before setting it back down without a word.
The route curved toward a raised promenade lined with flowering shrubs, giving them a vantage point over the lower districts. Beyond the rooftops, the faint outline of the sea was visible, its surface catching the late afternoon light in a ripple of gold and blue.
"Looks calmer from up here," Rize remarked.
Max glanced toward the horizon. "It always does at a distance."
They followed the promenade until it descended again, bringing them into a neighborhood where cafés and tea houses occupied nearly every other building. Many had small balconies draped with cloth awnings, and the murmur of quiet conversation drifted from open windows.
Lan Xue stopped briefly at a tea shop's open counter, inhaling the sharp, earthy scent of fresh leaves piled high in shallow bowls. The shopkeeper greeted her warmly, offering a small paper packet as a sample. She accepted it with a polite nod before rejoining the group.
As the sun slid lower, the city lights began to wake—soft lanterns in doorways, pale strips of glow embedded into the pavement, and faintly luminescent murals that seemed to shift color with the angle of view. The air cooled slightly, carrying with it the mixed aromas of evening meals starting to cook.
Their path eventually curved back toward one of the city's central transit hubs, where a sweeping glass canopy sheltered a wide plaza. The place was alive with movement—commuters heading home, performers setting up for the night's crowd, and vendors switching their stalls from daytime goods to evening treats.
Max let the others slow down here, blending with the crowd. This was still just another part of the tour, but the way his gaze tracked the flow of people suggested he was taking in more than just the view.
They lingered at the edge of the courtyard for a moment, letting the music wash over them. Malaika was the first to take a seat, choosing a low table under the shadow of an overhanging tree. "We've been walking for hours," she murmured with a smile. "A pause won't kill our schedule."
Max didn't argue. He took the chair beside her, his posture relaxed but his eyes still moving—cataloging faces, noting exits, clocking anything that might be relevant later.
Lan Xue slid into the seat opposite, resting her folded hands on the table. She seemed more at ease here, the faint tension in her shoulders easing as a breeze stirred the leaves overhead.
Mu Qing wandered briefly toward a nearby cart, returning with a tray of small pastries dusted with something that caught the light like tiny fragments of crystal. She placed them in the center of the table without a word, and everyone instinctively reached for one.
Rize was still watching the musicians. "They're not just playing for coins," she said softly. "Feels like… they're holding something together."
"Some places survive because someone decides they should," Max replied, breaking off a corner of his pastry. "This might be one of them."
Gwen leaned back, sipping from the herbal tea she'd bought earlier, now chilled to the perfect temperature. "Places like this… you'd never find them in the high-tier districts. Too real. Too unpolished."
They stayed just long enough for the quartet to finish their piece, the last notes fading into the ambient murmur of conversation. The musicians bowed slightly, and the small crowd rewarded them with quiet applause.
When they rose to leave, Malaika took one last look around. "It's strange," she said, "how a city this massive still has corners where time feels… softer."
"Those are the corners worth remembering," Max answered.
They continued their walk, the streets narrowing again into a network of alleys lined with workshops. Here, artisans worked in open frontages—carving wood, shaping glass, hammering metal into delicate jewelry. Sparks occasionally danced into the air, and the smell of warm metal and lacquered wood mixed into something oddly pleasant.
A few children darted past, chasing a small spherical drone that zipped low to the ground, projecting shifting animal shapes ahead of it for them to catch.
At the far end of the alley, the city opened up once more into a larger street where low, gently curved buildings flanked either side. Lanterns were strung overhead on thin wires, swaying gently, already glowing faintly despite the late-afternoon light.
Lan Xue slowed her pace. "Looks like the evening market's about to start."
Max gave a small nod. "We'll pass through, then head back. Enough for one day."
The market was just waking up—vendors arranging displays of exotic fruits, steaming dishes, and curious trinkets. A man at one stall poured molten sugar into intricate lace-like designs, letting them harden before carefully lifting them onto sticks.
Mu Qing bought one shaped like a dragon, handing it without a word to Lan Xue, who accepted it with a small, almost shy smile.
Malaika found herself at a stall selling fragrant oils in small, stoppered vials. She tested one, the scent of spiced citrus clinging to her wrist as she rejoined the group.
By the time they reached the far end of the market, the light had shifted again, dipping toward evening. The city's layered skyline glowed with warm golds and deep blues, the day's hum giving way to the slower rhythm of night.
Max took one last look over his shoulder at the streets they'd walked. "Alright," he said quietly. "Let's head back."
***
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It's 22 chaps ahead