Ryouma and Crimson Moon stepped into the village.
This was not their first encounter with human society, and they blended in with a natural composure.
To avoid drawing too much attention with their attire, both invoked Natural Protection—an ability akin to magecraftal suggestion.
It subtly altered the subconscious of those around them.
No matter how regal or eccentric their dress, in human eyes they would appear utterly ordinary.
Crimson Moon had a bad habit of extravagance.
On previous visits to human towns, her noble, imperious bearing had led people to mistake her for royalty making an inspection.
That had caused quite a stir.
It had taken Ryouma considerable effort to smooth things over—and to prevent her from resolving it with mass slaughter.
As a result, he had laid down three strict rules for her:
No eating recklessly, no causing chaos, no acting without restraint.
"…This village feels wrong."
Halfway in, Ryouma frowned.
"Oh? How so?" Crimson Moon tilted her head. "It doesn't seem any different from others we've seen."
"Their clothing."
That was something only he would notice.
Having lived as a human, Ryouma knew how rare fine clothing was in antiquity.
In this age, only the rich and noble wore such things.
Yet from the moment they entered, every man, woman, and child wore ornate garments—gems and pearls set into fabric, gold and silver lining the hems.
Even in the modern age, few could flaunt such luxury. And the style was garish, vulgar in its opulence.
More troubling—the gems all radiated powerful magical energy, the kind that had been refined for centuries.
Crimson Moon arched a brow. "Oh? Then it means this village is very wealthy?"
"In a way, yes. But so wealthy it feels… unnatural."
Ryouma narrowed his eyes, scanning the surroundings.
Crimson Moon had overwhelming might.
To complement her, he had to be thorough in what she overlooked.
"Hey! You two—you're outsiders, aren't you?"
A sharp voice called from behind.
Turning, Ryouma saw a man dressed just as finely, eyes glinting with suspicion.
"We're just travelers passing through," Ryouma replied smoothly. "If possible, we'd like a place to stay the night—"
"Hah. Travelers? Here? Do you think we'll believe such nonsense? If you need a night's rest, go elsewhere—"
It was the same excuse he always used when mingling with villages before. Normally, he'd back it up with the Mystic Eyes of Charm.
This time, before he even invoked them, the man was already bristling with hostility.
That in itself piqued Ryouma's interest.
But what happened next raised even more questions.
"Not welcoming us?"
Crimson Moon's voice was calm, her gaze level.
The instant she turned her head, Ryouma saw the man's face twist with shock.
Once again, someone had been overwhelmed by her beauty.
He understood all too well.
"N-no, of course not! If it's just for a night, there are many places to stay in our village…"
The man quickly waved his hands, flustered.
Despite his gilded attire, he had none of the poise wealth should bring.
His eyes remained fixed on Crimson Moon—already retracting his earlier words entirely.
"So there is lodging, then? That settles it. My dear, we'll stay here tonight."
Ryouma stepped smoothly in front of the man, wrapping an arm around Crimson Moon's waist, pulling her close as if declaring sovereignty.
Her face flashed with surprise—along with a tinge of blush.
"If you'd be so kind, please recommend a place for me and my wife. Of course, I'll pay."
The man sputtered like a boiling kettle.
At the word wife, his eyes briefly showed regret—before greed quickly took its place.
Ryouma noted every flicker.
Perhaps boxed in by his earlier bluster, the man forced a smile and led them deeper into the village.
Soon, they were given a place to stay—an empty house once belonging to a villager.
"This place really is strange…" Ryouma mused. "From hostility to suddenly inviting us to their festival—like the earlier unpleasantness never happened."
Crimson Moon, however, focused on another matter.
"Wife… Ryouma, you called me that, didn't you?"
"Uh… yes."
His eyes slid away.
He had said it instinctively, in the moment.
Now, just remembering it made his chest itch.
Fortunately, she didn't tease him as before. Instead, she seemed entranced by the sweetness of the word.
Subconscious slips often revealed truest feelings.
And she hadn't denied it, either.
The thought made his throat dry, but he pushed it down.
First, he had to investigate this village. His instincts screamed that something here was not simple.
Still—if Crimson Moon hadn't shown a shred of fighting intent, then whatever lurked posed no threat to her.
That, at least, was reassuring.
Night fell, and the festival began.
Together, they joined the celebration.
Around a bonfire several meters high, the villagers sang and danced, goblets clinking over a feast.
Gold, jewels, and delicacies piled up like small mountains.
An excess so vast it was grotesque.
Yet from what Ryouma had observed, none of these villagers so much as tilled the soil.
And still, they flaunted wealth, gorging themselves only to toss food aside half-eaten, waste without restraint.
Even Crimson Moon—herself prone to extravagance—looked on with cold disdain, like staring at swine.
Neither of them joined the revelry.
As outsiders, their place was clear to everyone.
And yet the villagers showed no rejection.
On the contrary—they exalted Ryouma and Crimson Moon, lifting them up like honored offerings.
Their greed was no longer hidden.
[End of Chapter]
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