"Wahhh," I yawned, stretching my arms as I lay on the bed. Why am I so sleepy? I just woke up from a nap. Well, guess it can't be helped. I flopped back, the coarse blanket scratching my cheek. Glad nobody's questioned how my clothes look—cuts and bruises on my sports suit must be normal in this world. Still, I swear I'll beat that Guild Master one day, Liam and his stupid fireballs.
The next morning, after grilling the old man at the Hkou Inn for directions, I headed to the tailor shop, which was—surprise, surprise—just around the corner. Masamato wasn't lying when he said Solva's streets were built for convenience. I stood in front of the shop, its wooden façade looking like it jumped straight out of an anime. A carved sign swung gently above the door, etched with swirling letters: Velvet Vows.
According to the old man, this was the best tailor in the district. The shop wasn't huge, just average-sized, its windows framed with dark iron, their rippled glass catching the morning sun in soft, wavy glints.I pushed open the double doors, a chime tinkling overhead like a quest notification. "Welcome," called a woman in her fifties from behind the counter, her voice warm but practiced, her gray-streaked bun bobbing as she adjusted a bolt of cloth.
Then I spotted someone I hadn't expected, browsing a rack of cloaks: Suzuki. Her rune-etched staff leaned against a shelf, and her auburn hair caught the light as she glanced at the chime, then did a double-take at me.
"Isn't it Kozuki!" she exclaimed, rushing over with a grin that could light up a dungeon.
"What are you doing here?" I blurted, still processing the shock of seeing her.
"Well, since I have nothing to do, I went shopping!" she chirped, then clapped her hands. "Btw, congratulations on becoming an adventurer and one of Liam's students!"
"Well, it's nothing, haha," I mumbled, scratching my neck. She knows I'm F-rank—ugh, so embarrassing.
"So what are you doing here?" she pressed, tilting her head."Just here to fix my clothes and buy new ones," I admitted, gesturing to my singed, ripped sports suit.
"Oh, I see! Then can I suggest some clothes?" Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm.
"Sure, thanks," I said, still awkward but grateful for her help. The store was average-sized but screamed fantasy tailor shop in the best way, like a cozy hub ripped from an RPG. The wooden floor tiles gleamed underfoot, polished to a warm amber, their grain swirling like tiny rivers, scuffed just enough to hint at years of adventurers' boots. Sturdy oak shelves lined the walls, stacked with neatly folded trousers, tunics, and robes in earthy tones—olive, charcoal, deep burgundy—plus a few vibrant splashes of sapphire and emerald for the bold. Bolts of fabric leaned in corners, their textures ranging from rough linen to shimmering silk, one catching the light with a faint arcane shimmer, probably enchanted for durability or cold resistance. My otaku brain pinged: Gear stats, maybe? Gotta check.Hanging racks displayed outfits tailored for Solva's rough-and-tumble life: leather-trimmed jerkins for rogues, flowing cloaks with rune-stitched hems for mages, and padded vests that screamed "starter tank." A few mannequins stood sentinel, draped in elaborate pieces—a velvet doublet with silver embroidery, a hooded cape lined with fur—like NPC vendor bait for high rollers. The air carried a comforting mix of cedar, fresh dye, and a faint metallic tang from sewing needles, undercut by a whiff of lavender from sachets tucked among the shelves, likely to ward off moths or add that premium vibe.Behind the counter, the workstation was a crafter's dream: a broad oak table cluttered with spools of thread, gleaming scissors, and a rune-carved sewing needle that hummed faintly, probably magical. A half-finished cloak lay pinned to the table, its hem glowing with delicate gold stitching, while a brass measuring tape coiled like a snake beside a worn leather ledger. Overhead, a wrought-iron chandelier dangled, its lanterns casting a soft, golden glow that danced across the wooden beams, their knots and cracks adding a rustic charm. A small curtained alcove in the back hinted at a fitting room, its heavy green drapes swaying slightly as a customer emerged, tugging at a new tunic. The handful of other shoppers—two adventurers eyeing a rack of belts, a merchant haggling over a robe's price—added a low hum of chatter, blending with the snip of scissors and the chime's fading echo. Compared to the chaotic Joku, this place was a masterclass in cozy organization.
Suzuki, practically vibrating with excitement, darted to a rack and pulled out a set of clothes, thrusting them into my arms.
"Try these!" she said, her grin infectious. The outfit was pure adventurer starter-pack: a charcoal-gray tunic of sturdy linen, its hem reinforced with subtle leather stitching for durability, paired with dark olive trousers that felt lightweight but tough, their knees padded for crawling through dungeons or, y'know, surviving Liam's training. A belted vest came with it, deep burgundy with brass buckles, its inner lining quilted for a touch of warmth, perfect for Solva's chilly nights. The vest had a small embroidered rune on the chest—a tiny spiral that glowed faintly when I brushed it, probably a minor enchantment for luck or stamina, Suzuki's arcane taste shining through. A short cloak completed the look, slate-blue with a simple iron clasp, its hem frayed just enough to scream
"I've seen some action" without looking like a hobo. It wasn't flashy, but it screamed practical, like something an F-rank like me could actually pull off.
I shuffled to the curtained alcove, the green drapes swishing as I stepped into the cramped fitting room. A small mirror hung on the wall, its edges tarnished but clear enough to show my reflection. I swapped my singed sports suit for the new gear, the tunic fitting snugly, the trousers surprisingly comfy despite their rugged look. The vest's weight felt reassuring, like low-level armor, and the cloak draped just right, giving me that adventurer vibe without screaming "tryhard." I turned in the mirror, grinning. Okay, this is kinda dope. Suzuki's got taste.
"Wow," I said, stepping out, feeling like I'd just equipped a +1 Charisma set.
"Do you like it?" Suzuki asked, clasping her hands, her eyes scanning me like a proud stylist.
"Yeah," I nodded, still geeking out. I wonder why nobody's mentioned my Earth clothes. They look nothing like this world's gear. In every isekai anime, someone always grills the protagonist about their weird outfit. Well, not a big deal, I guess.
"Glad you like it!" Suzuki beamed, giving a little clap. We headed to the counter, and I handed the woman my torn sports suit, its rips and burns looking pathetic next to the new outfit.
"I want to fix this and buy these clothes, please," I said, gesturing to my new gear.
"Okay," she said, taking the sports suit with a practiced nod.
"For the clothes, it'll be 4 silver coins." She grabbed the torn suit and stepped to the workstation, her fingers probing the fabric for a moment, her rune-carved needle humming faintly as she examined it. She returned, unfazed.
"For this, it'll be 6 copper coins." That cheap? I blinked. My Earth clothes are that worthless? I thought fixing another-world fabric would cost a fortune, like some rare artifact.
"Thanks," I said, fishing out 4 silver and 6 copper from my overstuffed bag, the coins clinking as I handed them over.
"So when will it be ready?" I asked.
"About tomorrow," she replied, jotting a note in her ledger.
"Okay, thanks."
Suzuki bought her own clothes—a sleek mage's robe with silver threading that probably cost more than my whole outfit—and we left Velvet Vows, the chime tinkling behind us. I headed back to the Hkou Inn, and to my surprise, Suzuki tagged along, her staff tapping the cobblestones as we walked. On the way, we chatted about my plans before Liam's school starts—grinding F-rank quests, studying the tome, maybe hitting a dungeon if I'm feeling brave. She tossed in tips about Solva's markets and warned me about shady alley vendors, her voice light but sharp with experience. After a while, we reached the inn, its familiar wooden façade glowing under the midday sun, the faint scent of woodsmoke drifting from its chimney.
"Thanks for accompanying me," I said, pausing at the door.
"No problem," Suzuki grinned, adjusting her staff. "So this is where you're living for a month?" She followed me inside and plopped down at one of the scarred oak tables in the lobby, her robe rustling.
"Yep," I said, sliding into a chair across from her. The Hkou Inn's lobby hummed with its usual cozy chaos, the hearth crackling softly, its flames casting flickering shadows across the scuffed wooden floor. The air was warm, thick with the scent of roasted meat and spilled ale, laced with a faint cedar tang from the polished beams overhead. Lanterns swayed gently, their golden glow bouncing off the walls, where a few nicks and scratches told tales of rowdy nights. The old man was at his post behind the counter, his graying mop falling over his brow, polishing a glass with that ancient rag, its slow squeak almost rhythmic. No sign of the three leather-clad adventurers today—just a handful of patrons: a grizzled merchant scribbling in a ledger, a lone adventurer sharpening a dagger in the corner, and a barmaid weaving through with a tray, her auburn braid swinging. The quiet buzz felt like a tavern cutscene, familiar but alive, like the inn was waiting for its next big moment.
"Btw, how're the others—Lance, Gild, Masamato?" I asked, leaning back.
"Well, they're doing just fine," Suzuki said, resting her staff against the table.
"Lance and Gild are probably lazing off somewhere, as usual. Masamato's on duty, patrolling."
So that's why he said he can't see me for a while. Just then, my stomach growled, loud enough to rival a direwolf. Oh, right—I haven't eaten since last night's roast beef.
"I see. Btw, have you eaten anything yet?" I asked.
"Nope," Suzuki said, shaking her head.
"Well, I'm gonna order us some food. What do you want?"
"Anything's fine," she said with a shrug.
"Okay." I scanned the lobby, noting the old man's endless polishing—dude's gonna buff a hole through that glass. Only six people, including us, dotted the space, a quieter vibe than last night. I flagged down the barmaid and ordered two omelets, the same fluffy, herb-flecked ones Masamato fed me yesterday. They arrived steaming, their golden edges crisp, paired with crusty bread that smelled like it was baked an hour ago. We dug in, the savory bite waking me up as we talked—Suzuki sharing guild gossip, me rambling about my tome and maps. After eating, she thanked me, and I thanked her for the clothes help. She waved goodbye, her robe swishing as she left, staff tapping out of sight.
I trudged upstairs, the steps groaning, and flopped onto my bed, the Sword of Absolute Death winking from the table. Time to plan tomorrow.
The next day, I swung by Velvet Vows to retrieve my repaired sports suit, the chime tinkling as I entered. The tailor handed me the bundle, its rips and burns now neatly stitched, the fabric surprisingly intact for a mere 6 copper coins. Guess Earth clothes aren't that special here, I thought, tucking it under my arm and heading back to the Hkou Inn.
The days that followed settled into a quiet routine: eat, read the hefty tome Masamato gave me, sleep, repeat. The book, with its burgundy leather and glinting glyphs, was a grind, but it spilled some juicy lore about this world. I pieced together the currency system—four tiers: copper, silver, gold, and the elusive stellar coin, the top dog. The exchange rates clicked into place: 100 copper coins equal 1 silver, 100 silver equal 1 gold, and 250 gold equal 1 stellar. I leaned back in my chair, grinning like a goblin hoarding treasure. With nine gold coins, I'm basically a tycoon right now. The tome also unpacked familiar isekai staples: Gorfu, the Chaos-level monster, the adventurer rankings, from my humbling F-rank to the lofty SSS-rank; the Seven Kingdoms, each with its own vibe; and the religions centered on seven gods who once ruled the universe. Could that old hag who isekai'd me be one of them?
I wondered, picturing her cackling in some divine penthouse. I also absorbed Solva's labyrinthine layout—its markets, guild halls, and shady alleys—and a sliver of Kingdom Xipen history, though the names and dates blurred together. Too much lore, brain overload, I groaned, rubbing my temples.
One afternoon, I bumped into Lance and Gild at a bustling market, the air thick with the scent of grilled skewers and haggling voices. Lance, true to form, ribbed me about my F-rank status, his smirk sharp as a dagger. "Still scraping by at the bottom, eh, Kozuki?" he teased, while Gild, silent as ever, just nodded, his eyes scanning the crowd like a hawk. I shrugged off the jab, too used to Lance's banter to care.
Time slipped by faster than a rogue's dodge roll, and before I knew it, the month was nearly over. "Gah, only a week left," I muttered, slumping in my room at the Hkou Inn, my cheek pressed against the nicked oak table. Night had fallen, the lantern's dim glow casting shadows across the Sword of Absolute Death, its red gem winking mockingly. Exhaustion hit like a debuff, my eyelids heavier than a dragon's hoard. I didn't even make it to the bed, drifting off right there, face planted on the table, the tome's open pages crinkling under my arm.
At the same time, Fovos stepped into a grand mansion nestled in Solva's shadowed quarters, its iron gates creaking shut behind him. The air thrummed with the pulse of a decadent party, a cacophony of sultry strings and flutes weaving through peals of laughter and clinking glasses. Accepting Zarnkxild's cryptic invitation, he had ventured here, his curved blade concealed beneath his blood-streaked cloak. The foyer sprawled before him, its marble floors gleaming under chandeliers that dripped with crystal, their prisms scattering golden light across frescoed walls adorned with gilded vines. Banquet tables groaned under platters of roasted pheasant, glazed fruits, and decanters of crimson wine, their aromas mingling with the musky scent of incense curling from silver braziers. Masked servants glided through the throng, offering trays of sparkling goblets, while guests—clad in silks and leathers—swirled in a dance of whispered deals and veiled threats.
Underworld titans held court: The Tiger, his scarred grin flashing as he toasted; The Shadow, a wraith-like figure sipping from a flute; and members of the enigmatic Hexagon, their muted laughter carrying an edge of menace. The atmosphere crackled with power, every smile a blade, every glance a gambit.
Fovos prowled the edges, his sharp eyes scanning the revelry, when a silken voice sliced through the din.
"I thought you wouldn't come, Fovos." He turned to find Zarnkxild, her presence commanding despite the crowd. She wore a gown of midnight velvet, its fabric shimmering like liquid shadow, clinging to her form with a daring slit that revealed a glimpse of thigh. Intricate silver embroidery traced arcane sigils along the bodice, glinting faintly as if imbued with magic, while a choker of black opals encircled her throat, pulsing with an eerie glow. Her veil, a sheer cascade of obsidian silk, framed her sharp features, her eyes gleaming like twin embers beneath it.
"Well, I can't miss a gold mine, can I, Zarnkxild?" Fovos replied, his tone dry as dust.
She giggled, a sound both melodic and predatory. "Enjoy the festivities, Fovos. The Hexagon spared no expense." With a graceful turn, she melted into the crowd, her gown trailing like a wisp of night.
Fovos watched her go, his expression unreadable. Plucking a wine glass from a passing tray, he sipped the tart vintage, its warmth doing little to soften his vigilance. He drifted through the opulent halls, past velvet drapes and polished oak panels, when another voice—gravelly, male—cut through. "So, you're the infamous adventurer-killer, Fovos In Shadow, correct?"
"Who's asking?" Fovos said, his hand twitching toward his blade.The man chuckled, stepping into the chandelier's glow.
"Forgive my manners. I am Lord Malvoro, the Blackthorn, a leader of the Gloamspire Alliance."
He extended a hand, his aristocratic attire a study In calculated elegance: a tailored coat of deep indigo, its lapels embroidered with thorny vines in silver thread, paired with a crimson waistcoat that gleamed like spilled blood. A gold pocket watch dangled from a chain, its ticking faint but deliberate, while a black cravat, pinned with a ruby the size of a quail's egg, framed his weathered face. His silver hair, swept back, and hawkish eyes bespoke a man accustomed to command, his every gesture laced with menace.
The Gloamspire Alliance, second only to the Hexagon, was a sprawling web of corruption—crooked officials, slave traders, and worse, stretching across Kingdom Xipen. Yet the Hexagon, with its six founders wielding ninety percent of its might, dwarfed even their influence, their thousands of operatives a mere shadow of that core power.
"Drake, Fovos In Shadow," Fovos said, shaking Malvoro's hand with a grip like iron. "Pleasure, sir."
"A splendid soiree, wouldn't you say?" Malvoro mused, gesturing to the revelry below.
"Which adventurer do you want dead?" Fovos cut in, his voice flat, eyes narrowing.
Malvoro's lips curled into a predatory smile. "Straight to business—I admire that. This isn't the place for such talk. Follow me upstairs; there's a private room."
Fovos trailed him up a sweeping staircase, its banisters carved with snarling wyverns, to a spacious chamber. The room dripped with decadence: velvet-upholstered couches flanked a mahogany table, its surface inlaid with ivory runes. Crystal decanters glinted on a sideboard, and a massive window framed Solva's twinkling skyline, the city's lanterns like fallen stars.
Fovos sank into a couch, its cushions yielding under his weight, while Malvoro settled opposite, his posture regal.
"First, what's your price?" Fovos began, leaning forward.
"Two hundred gold coins," Malvoro replied, steepling his fingers.
"Now we're talking," Fovos said, a glint of avarice in his eyes.
"Who's the target?"
"Masamato, an A-rank adventurer," Malvoro said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush."When?"
"Eliminate him on Kaelorith, next month."