"— Bounty hunters? ... It's more dangerous than it seems."
"— ... Yes, but that's why it's bathed in tiger blood; it reduces the side effects. Some adventurers or bounty hunters usually chew the flower, but it's not recommended... Are you taking it or not, dying human?" the girl asked.
Don, indecisive, thought for a few seconds until the barmaid decided to serve someone else. When Don finally made up his mind, he started looking for the cheapest dishes, but the only cheapest thing in the bar was the tanda dish, due to its abundance, more than the bread itself.
"— Yes, I'll take it then. It doesn't matter; anyway, I'm not even good for protecting myself. Let it serve to calm the cries of my hunger."
"— Two for table 8, that'll be one... zero point five, times two... that's 4 gold coins."
"— Don! I'm hungry! Hurry up!" shouted Miriel from her comfortable chair.
"— How shameless. I shouldn't pay her anything..." Don left with disappointment and fatigue etched on his face.
Don pays. He looks at his fingers that brush hers by mistake, noticing her claws—straight, made not to hurt anyone—and immediately returned to his table with Miriel.
After a few minutes, a beautiful waitress from the place, a dark-skinned human, walks in the artificial light of the venue. Her green dress, with a stylized cut showing the shape of her hips down to her feet, is intentionally made to provoke, as it's her job. She places the dish of tiger ribs glazed in abejagua nectar on the table.
And instantly, Miriel can't believe that Don, among so many options, decided to take the tanda.
"— Was it the cheapest, right?" she asks with mischievous irony.
"— Heh, heh," he smiles slightly. "It seems like you're getting used to me?"
"— May Varnok's claws free me quickly from a useless one like you."
And with a smile that seemed fake due to how embarrassed and hurt he feels, Don's ineptitude is so noticeable in a world where hunting, fighting, and extracting brings more than selling products or terralitos passively. Then he asked, out of doubt, while finishing his plate with his head down and eyes lost in the blood on his dish:
"— Miriel? Can everyone perceive the ether of other people?"
"— It's the basic thing that everyone with the minimal capacity learns. If you fear that others see how useless you are, I have bad news for you. You're the only one of the 48 people in this bar who radiates absolutely nothing, but for another... look there," she said, pointing with her head to a table of three people, with a therianthrope of white skin and fur covering his nose. "Your stench to the beasts is nauseating..."
"— As if a dead man were walking among them..." Don commented sadly, realizing the number of eyes on him... although in his paranoia, no one paid attention to him. Though unusual, to others, he was just another stranger.
But in the sight and sense of everyone present in the bar, Don was truly the only one who somehow unsettled others just with his presence. Some glanced at him, while others avoided him because they knew Miriel and her zero-tolerance bad temper.
Then Don dimmed, waiting for the moment to leave the place where, without doing anything, he felt pressure and many evil eyes on him, like a real nightmare.
But heels interrupted the room, coming from a sealed and protected area guarded by therianthropes.
In the center of the bar, a serious, elitist figure marches with a fixed destination: to present herself to those who called her.
A woman of magnetic and enigmatic presence stands out as the protagonist. Her hair, a vibrant and deep red, short and styled with strands falling in soft waves over her forehead and sides, frames her face with a bold and sophisticated air. Her eyes, an intense and penetrating blue, shine with sharp intelligence and an unbreakable will, capable of intimidating anyone who dares to face her.
She wears an impeccable black suit, with fitted lines that highlight her slender and powerful figure. The jacket, of classic cut but with modern details, reveals a white shirt underneath, cinched by a dark corset that adds a Victorian touch. Her pants, black as midnight, fit her legs precisely, complemented by high-heeled boots that reinforce her authority. A detail of black lace adorns a garter on her right thigh, suggesting secrets and hidden skills. Her hands, covered by dark gloves, hold a hammer with elegance, while a silver chain hangs from her waist, adding a distinctive nuance.
With her upright posture and defiant gaze, this woman lowers her eyes to Don's, also feeling what everyone perceives from him, but with the sensation of having recognized his figure somewhere. Then she shifts her gaze upon noticing Miriel and gets excited, shouting:
"— But if it's my favorite guide?" And she jumps on her as if they were best friends. Miss Teruise didn't stop nibbling her like a child, though Miriel tried to push her away, her strength wasn't enough.
Then she only detached from Miriel when she confirmed that she wasn't there for her, leaving her with a disappointed face, and that she came for "this boy!"—pointing at Don. She was one of the only people who had smiled at him since he entered the place. The kind lady bent slightly to introduce herself, with one hand behind her back, like a true aristocrat.
"— Why did you want to see me?"
Don stood up before such a beautiful lady and spoke, extending his hand with a slight smile, clumsily assuming from her relationship with Miriel that they were of the same class.
"— Hello..." He was cut off instantly by her guards, who appeared out of nowhere, grabbing him by the neck while one loaded a fatal blow. Luckily, their lady stopped them in time. He fell to the ground, trying to understand how he was overpowered to the point that he couldn't perceive the attack, as if his reflexes had shut off entirely.
The lady, embarrassed by the incident, stood in contrast to the words of contempt heard in the background. They couldn't mend the broken crystals in Don's heart. In this situation, he quickly got up, trying to smile awkwardly again, apologizing.
Apologizing for being attacked, and looking at Miriel, who acted as if she didn't know him, he was left alone in his shame. His mental demons wouldn't stop telling him how unacceptable and repugnant his existence was, but he imagined his master's voice.
"— Excuse my guards, young man. It's just that... due to your unusual way of hiding your ether, it's easy to confuse you with one of those dangerous monsters."
"— The apology is mine... ha, ha, sorry for inconveniencing you. It's not intentional... I'm not a monster... heh, heh, heh. I'm... Miriel... I've traveled with Miriel for days, so... I don't know, I wouldn't eat Miriel," he says, speeding up his speech, and continues... and continues... until everyone notices his stress. Teruise herself realizes he's forcing it, trying to be liked, and she begins:
"— Ok... young sir, that's enough. What's your name?"
"— Yes... ma'am. My name is Don."
"— Don... is that a code name, a pseudonym?"
"— Well... uh... just Don," he replies, unable to remember; it's the only thing he recalls.
"— My name is Teruise. I'm a bounty hunter and alchemist; I'm a common and ordinary human," she says with a mocking smile that Don didn't catch, but Miriel did, so she retorts.
"— Useless," she called him. "It's better that you don't believe a word from that woman's mouth. She just acts modest... she's the aristocrat with the most power in the region (rank 7) after her father, Ashton Gordon Dusk. She's of the nobility; show her more respect."
"— Miriel, always a party pooper. Your character is the only bad thing that erases all the good you have," she replied. Then she leans toward Don's ear, something that bothered more than one person watching her approach him. They don't understand why a woman so important to the city talks so casually with a freak like Don. "Don't pay attention to them..." she mentions between smiles, revealing her game.
Teruise formally bends to introduce herself as the aristocrat she is—something she doesn't enjoy doing due to her differences with her father, a conflict that made her the most beloved noble on the island for her closeness to the common people. This boosted her popularity, despite being a noble bounty hunter and alchemist who stained her family's honor by mingling with the vilest scum of the social class, the plebeians.
"— I introduce myself, young traveler. They know me as Lady Lu'u Teruise Eveline Dusk, First Blood of the Dusk House, lineage intact since the Age of the Impure. Heiress of the 9 Dusk fortresses, but for you, handsome, I'm Lu'u." She controls the golden routes of Virelen, dominates the commerce of Riverside, extends her shadow over Némarys, and oversees five of the nine fortresses controlled by the Dusk family. Her fortune rivals that of kings, and her name alone can silence an entire hall. This introduction was so scandalous that it grabbed everyone's attention and hushed dozens of drunks and idiots betting gold for a night with a waitress.
And among them, only words of contempt were heard toward the "freak"—murmurs. "Why is the boss doing this?" ... "Surely that freak is taking advantage of the boss's kindness; he's a monster disguised as a human" ... "When he's alone, we'll kill him."
But it only took one look from her toward those plotting and questioning her decisions to calm them down. Then she moved and told them to accompany her to her workshop.