Chapter 38 The Girl

The man was odd. That was Edith’s first thought. Very odd. She’d been watching him for a while before they crossed paths. Not on purpose. Well… maybe a little on purpose. It was hard not notice him. Most folks at the Merchant Summit walked with clear purpose. 

Merchants were after opportunities, nobles chased influence, and adventurers looked for commissions. Everyone had their own desires, their own calculations. But the silver-armored adventurer stood apart.

He looked as if he were on s whole new world. Edith had watched him spend nearly ten minutes just observing a group of fairies chasing a thief. Not because it mattered. Simply because it amused him. Even from a distance, she could see him laughing.

Who would do that at a summit brimming with opportunities? Apparently, he would. She’d accidentally bumped into him—or maybe he’d bumped into her. She couldn’t be certain. Usually, these encounters played out predictably: people got annoyed, some offered quick apologies before hurrying off, others struck up conversations because of her looks. But the silver-armored man had simply asked if she was alright.

When she didn’t respond—he caught on almost instantly. No pity, no awkward sympathy, no prying questions. Just quiet understanding, as if her being mute was nothing out of the ordinary. And that, more than anything, had taken her by surprise.

He simply asked her to take a walk with him. Just like that. No pause, no hidden agenda she could sense. No sign of recognition, no mention of titles, and no expectations at all.

Simply:

"Want to come with me?"

Edith still wasn’t quite sure why she had agreed. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe boredom. Maybe it was just that no one had spoken to her so casually in ages. Now she walked him through the summit, watching, observing, trying to figure him out. But the more she watched, the less he seemed to make sense.

Most people regarded expensive objects with awe, but he saw them as curiosities. While others approached famous merchants with care, he barely paid them any mind. Rare races fascinated most, yet he spoke to everyone the same way—whether it was the giant reptilian merchant, the dwarven blacksmith, the fairy shopkeeper, or the beastkin trader. No difference. No hesitation. No judgment. Just curiosity, as if everyone was equally interesting.

Then came the worst moment.

"You are definitely a rich girl."

Edith almost forgot to breathe. How had he it out? She wore no family insignia, her jewelry was deliberately plain, and her attendants were nowhere in sight. She had gone out of her way to blend in, to avoid notice. Yet within an hour, he had guessed—not who she was exactly, but enough to be a problem. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to care. Most people lit up when they discovered she came from money.

The silver-armored adventurer's reaction had been:

"Want one?"

While pointing at the cake, Edith still couldn’t decide if she felt relieved or offended—probably both. She stole glance at him, finding him engrossed in a mechanical bird on display by an inventor. His eyes sparkled with genuine curiosity, like a child discovering something for the first time. The thought made her smile, just a little. The silver-armored man noticed immediately, absurdly perceptive when it came to expressions.

"Do that more."

Edith felt her cheeks heat again and quickly looked away. The man just laughed—not in a mocking way, but as if her reactions amused him, which, admittedly, they did. A strange, comfortable feeling settled in her chest. Here, no one knew her name. No one bowed, no one flattered, no one scrutinized every word she jotted down. For the first time in months—maybe even years—She was simply a girl walking through a market.

Eating desserts, browsing strange inventions, and listening to an adventurer debate whether a chicken could possibly be worth more than a house. The answer was clearly no, yet the fact that he spent five whole minutes pondering it was deeply troubling. Edith shot him another glance—the silver-armored adventurer was still muttering about overpriced chickens.

A faint smile returned to her face. Maybe. Meeting him had been the highlight of her time since arriving at the summit.

***

By the time the sun began to set, Amos had come to two conclusions. First, the Merchant Summit was far bigger than he had imagined. Second, the pink-haired girl was, somehow, even stranger than he was.

The two spent the day wandering through countless sections of the summit, with Amos eventually giving up on any sort of schedule—there was simply too much to take in. A dwarven engineer showed off a self-loading crossbow, an elven merchant sold living flowers that sang when watered, and a beastkin chef dared customers to survive a bowl of “authentic mountain stew.” After that ordeal, the pink-haired girl quietly handed him water for ten straight minutes as he reconsidered his choices, but he did in fact survive. Later, they met an inventor selling miniature mana-powered ships, and Amos eagerly spent twenty minutes asking questions, leaving the inventor nearly in tears from joy—apparently no one had ever cared to ask about the engines before. The girl stood by, listening and jotting down occasional notes in her small notebook, and somehow, their communication began to feel surprisingly effortless.

"Hungry?"

Nod.

"Want to see the arena?"

Nod.

"That merchant is definitely committing tax fraud."

A pause.

Then another nod.

Amos laughed. "See, this is what I call a good company."

***

The serious attendees began to appear—merchants, nobles, guild representatives, investors. People whose smiles were worth less than the shoes on their feet. Amos instantly sensed the change. The summit’s daytime festivities were winding down, and the real business was about to start. Tonight marked the first high-level conference, one of the main reasons Eoghan Rise had been invited in the first. Information, trade agreements, political talks, rumors—possible links to the Broken Crown. The real reason he was here. Unfortunately, it meant work, and Amos hated work. He glanced at the sky, where the first stars were starting to shine.

"...Damn."

The pink-haired girl tilted her head.

Amos sighed.

"I have responsibilities."

She blinked.

"I know."

Another sigh.

"Tragic."

The girl stared, clearly unconvinced, as Amos pointed at her with accusation."Don't look at me like that."

She immediately looked even more unconvinced.

The little miss trust. Hah got? Like mistrust but she is a little miss, so little miss trust? Funny right. Okay fine. 

After a moment, she opened her notebook. Her handwriting was very neat.

Leaving?

Amos nodded.

"The night conference."

The girl glanced at his adventurer’s gear, then back at him, clearly puzzled as to why someone like him would attend such an event. Amos just grinned. "Trade secret."

She rolled her eyes again, and Amos almost laughed. When had she gotten comfortable enough to do that? This morning, she could hardly meet his gaze, and now she was openly judging him. If that’s not character development, what?

The girl lowered her gaze and began writing again.

Thank you.

Amos blinked, glanced at her for a moment, then smiled.

"You're welcome."

The girl paused for a moment, then wrote another line.

Today was fun.

For some reason those three words felt unexpectedly sincere.

Amos rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah."

A small smile appeared. "It was."

The girl looked surprised, maybe because it was the first honest thing he’d said all day. crowds kept moving around them as night lights bathed the streets. The summit shifted into something quieter, more elegant, yet tinged with loneliness. She eventually closed her notebook, seeming ready to leave, but then paused, glancing at him with a hint of hesitation, as she wanted to speak. After a few moments, she simply gave a small wave. Amos waved back.

"See you around, rich girl."

Her cheeks puffed up at once, and then she turned away, vanishing into the crowd. Amos let out a chuckle.

"Definitely rich."

A few seconds passed.

Then a familiar voice suddenly emerged from nowhere beside him.

"You really just spent the entire day with her."

Amos nearly jumped."WHAT THE HELL—"

Karos stood beside him as though she had always been there, her expression perfectly calm.

Amos grabbed his chest. "STOP DOING THAT."

"No."

Karos ignored him.

Instead, she looked toward the direction the pink-haired girl had disappeared. Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Hm."

Amos immediately noticed.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Karos."

"Nothing."

Which naturally meant it was something.

Amos stared suspiciously.

"The conference begins in thirty minutes."

"You're changing the subject."

"Correct."

"..."

"..."

Amos groaned.

He hated when she pulled that stunt. Karos glanced toward the glowing summit hall, where the first night’s conference was about to kick off. Merchants. Nobles. Guildmasters. Influential figures from every corner of the continent and somewhere in that crowd— Someone tied to the Broken Crown. The true purpose of Eoghan Rise’s being here would finally come to light.