Looking Krey up and down, the stunning woman let out a sigh in disappointment.
"I wonder how one acquires quite so many bruises," Nixsen observed, her violet eyes sharp.
"I can see patches of purple around… well, most of your face."
Caught, Krey's gaze darted away, searching the barren ground for an excuse.
"…Ah, these. I was sleepwalking. You know how it can be. Must have tripped and bumped into a wall."
"Mhm. Hmmm…" Her tone was skeptical.
Desperate to change the subject, Krey stumbled over his words.
"A-anyways, why are you here?"
Sighing as if the question itself were a burden, Nixsen fixed him with a jaded look.
"To give you food, obviously. I was also coming to see if you wished to accompany me to the library."
"Sure, I guess."
"I've finished my pile of books. I'm returning them."
"How did you finish that many so fast?"
"You'd be surprised how quickly I can read when I'm not distracted by stray cats covered in bruises."
She tossed the bundle of food into the air. Krey fumbled but caught it just before it hit the mud.
"Enjoy your meal. I'll be waiting at the gate." She turned.
"And do hurry. This place is doing unspeakable things to my boots."
Krey observed the woman with ashen hair until she vanished from sight. He hurriedly consumed the food she had provided, then wrapped his sword in cloth, filled his pockets with silver coins, and gathered his adventurer's card along with a book on swordsmanship.
At the main gate, Nixsen was engaged in a low conversation with the same guard from before. She cut it short the moment she spotted Krey.
"Well, well. Took you long enough." She said to Krey, gesturing impatiently to the guard, who called for the gate to be raised.
"Come on, then."
They passed through the gate and the sprawling slums, then crossed the threshold into the city. The noise and color were still a shock to Krey's senses. Nixsen guided Krey to a small library after picking up her books from her residency.
The friendly librarian, who was well-fed, brightened at their arrival. He noticed Krey gripping a book tightly, prompting a warm smile from the librarian, which Krey awkwardly reciprocated with a strained grin.
"What in the heavens happened to the boy?" the librarian boomed, his smile vanishing.
"His face is a map of misfortune!"
"Oh, that?" Nixsen waved a lace-gloved hand dismissively.
"Pay it no mind. Krey's face has looked like that since morning. He's… accident-prone."
"…Krey, you say?" the man muttered, rubbing his bearded chin thoughtfully.
"That name sounds oddly familiar."
In a moment of exploration, Krey, while waiting for Nixsen, discovers a colorful children's book on a high shelf. As he sits down to examine it, he finds the illustrations appealing but struggles to understand the text, feeling frustration grow within him.
He stood up abruptly, intending to put it back. As he rose, a sharp, sudden pain blossomed on the crown of his head.
"Argh—!"
"Urgh—!"
He looked up. What he saw was unexpected. A young woman with a cascade of golden-yellow hair was clutching her mouth, her face contorted. She appeared to have just bitten her own tongue. But as Krey was still processing this, the young woman, eyes blazing with fury, slammed her forehead directly into his nose.
"You insolent brat! You should watch where you're standing!" she shouted.
Stars exploded behind Krey's eyes. He stumbled back, hands flying to his throbbing nose. Seizing the advantage, the young woman delivered a swift, vicious kick between his legs.
White-hot agony surged through Krey around his crotch as he instinctively lashed out, grabbing the ankle of his assailant and yanking hard, causing her to fall heavily to the floor.
The librarian and Nixsen rushed over to find them entangled, with Krey struggling due to the initial debilitating strike.
"Oh my," Nixsen's smooth voice cut through the grunts of pain.
"I didn't think you two would get along so… physically."
The librarian mopped his brow with a handkerchief.
"Alison! Unhand him this instant! You must stop attacking every person who happens to look in your direction!"
"But Dad! He was in the way!"
"No 'buts'! Stand up and apologize. Now!"
The young woman, Alison, stood and brushed off her long dress with sharp, irritated motions. She gave a stiff, shallow bow in Krey's direction, her eyes like daggers.
"Tsk… I'm sorry you weren't paying attention to your surroundings."
Krey, still groaning on the floor and cupping his injured groin, managed to grit out,
"…Apology… denied…"
"Ungrateful brat! I'll show you how sorry I am!"
She raised her foot to stomp on him, but the action was interrupted by her father doubling over, seized by a sudden, wracking cough that echoed in the quiet library.
Her anger vanished, replaced by instant worry. She lowered her foot and rushed to his side.
"Dad! Are you all right?"
The coughing fit subsided as quickly as it came. The librarian waved her off, his face red.
"Don't fret… I just swallowed my own spit the wrong way. I'm fine."
Alison helped him back to his chair, her movements gentle.
"You have to take better care."
"I'm alright, little star. Truly."
Meanwhile, Nixsen looked down at Krey.
"On your feet already. The pain isn't that profound."
Gritting his teeth, Krey used his cloth-wrapped sword as a crutch to haul himself upright. He shuffled to a reading table and sank into a chair, the stinging in his lower half still ringing like a bell.
Nixsen pulled up a chair beside him and plucked a book seemingly at random from a nearby shelf. She opened it and slid it across the table, pointing to the top line.
"Krey. Read the first sentence on this page for me."
Krey stared at the string of symbols. His brow furrowed in intense concentration.
"Uhh… He… was… a hungry man?"
Nixsen's eyes lit up with a mischievous gleam.
"Alison! A moment of your time, please."
After ensuring her father had his water, Alison stalked over, her annoyance palpable.
"What?"
"Read this line, would you, dear?"
Alison glanced at the page and recited flawlessly, without a moment's hesitation.
"'He was a humble man, who showered the people of the world with kindness, despite his large size.' Need I read more?" Her tone was bored.
Nixsen looked back at Krey, a grin spreading across her face that was distinctly feline.
"Oh my. Whatever shall we do? This young man is illiterate. How will he ever survive in this world?" She tilted her head, feigning deep thought.
"If only the clever, well-read daughter of a librarian could find it in her heart to teach him…"
Alison rolled her eyes so hard it seemed they might stick. With a heavy sigh of resignation, she pulled out the chair next to Krey, snatched the book back, and closed it.
"Tsk. You better not waste my time. Look, what's the title of this book?"
Krey squinted at the cover. "…Grifter?"
"Incorrect. It's 'Gifter. ' How can you not read a word so simple?" she snapped, then paused.
"Didn't your parents teach you anything?"
"Actually—" Krey began.
Nixsen smoothly cut in.
"Actually, his parents are traveling at the moment. A very extended honeymoon, you could say."
"I see," Alison said, her sharp tone softening just a fraction.
"I suppose they are very… busy people."
Alison taught a lesson as the afternoon light caressed them through the windows, using children's books of fairy tales such as The Egg on a Wall, Sleeping Beauty, and The Three Little Pigs. She guided his reading by tracing her finger under each word.
Before anyone realized, dusk had settled into full night. Krey awoke with a start, a woolen blanket sliding from his shoulders, as he had fallen asleep over a book. The sound that woke him him was a distinct metallic scrape from the street outside the library. Quietly moving, Krey followed, sticking to the shadows.
The chase turned down an empty alley. When Krey peered around the corner, the sight before him stole his breath. It was a massacre, not a fight, orchestrated by a single individual in a crimson scarf.
This person exhibited a terrifying grace, avoiding direct clashes with the three attackers. Instead of engaging in parries, the individual redirected deadly thrusts and swings, leaving the attackers overexposed.
The sound of steel scraping against steel was not from defensive maneuvers but from fatal corrections. One by one, the cloaked figures fell, their movements abruptly ceasing.
Krey felt fear as he observed a remarkably skilled victor.
Understanding the gravity of the situation and that being caught could endanger him, he attempted to retreat, but his shoe inadvertently disturbed a loose stone, creating noise on the cobblestones.
The figure with a red scarf reacted suddenly to a noise, prompting Krey to escape quickly. He sprinted towards the library, struggling against the weights on his ankles and feeling his heart racing.
Leaning against the wall, gasping for air, a single thought burned in his mind.
"A monster. That was a monster. How can one person overpower so many?"
The encounter ignited in Krey a profound desire for strength, leading him back to the forest—a place of raw challenge. He purchased a wooden water flask, bid farewell to his mentor in silence, and prepared for his journey by packing his belongings, including dried food wrapped in a tunic from a past experience.
He ventured into the forest carrying a sword and an open swordsmanship book. As he navigated through thorny vines, he eventually found a clear space. There, he placed the book on a flat rock, illuminated by sunlight, and began to practice, his movements slow and awkward as he attempted to mimic the techniques depicted in the book.