Chan had a new priority: comfort.
Absolutely no way he was spending his one-month pre-romance purgatory being choked by a cravat that felt like it wanted to start a duel. So he raided the wardrobe—not the overly formal one in his chambers, no, the one tucked off to the side, the "training gear" section. Plain black trousers, a loose shirt, and a sleeveless leather vest that screamed "I do sword stuff sometimes." He threw on a black cloak for dramatic effect and called it a look.
Honestly? He looked like the mysterious supporting character who shows up halfway through a story and makes everyone question their allegiances. Sexy, slightly disheveled, morally ambiguous. Ten out of ten.
"No noble flair. No eye-stabbing embroidery," he muttered approvingly as he checked himself in the mirror. "I look like I might kill someone in an alley. Hot."
Then he was off. To the town square.
He didn't ask anyone's permission. He just strode out through the side gate like a cryptic anime swordsman with nothing to lose and everything to sass. The guards gave him a wide berth. Maybe it was the aura. Maybe it was the fact that Mythus rarely left the estate unless it was to duel, sulk, or traumatize people with silence.
Either way, freedom. Town time.
And he had money. Bags of it. Literal coin purses that jingled like holiday trauma.
"Step one," he said, scanning the cobbled streets as the castle disappeared behind him. "Buy things I don't need."
The town square was charming in that medieval fantasy sort of way—wooden stalls, bartering merchants, kids running around with sticky bread in their hands, and the occasional bard singing aggressively upbeat songs about dragons and destiny. Chan wandered through it all, one hand casually resting on the purse at his hip, the other ready to karate chop any pickpocket who thought Mythus was an easy target.
(He was an easy target, but the confidence sold it.)
The market stalls were endless: shiny swords he couldn't use, enchanted rings that probably gave you warts, potions labeled "For Stamina ;)", and food that looked edible if you didn't ask too many questions.
And yet… no phone. No headphones. No podcast. No memes. No cursed Twitter discourse. Just air and smells and people who didn't have the decency to know what a latte was.
He leaned on a post, chewing on something called a "honeybread twist," which was basically if a croissant and a cinnamon roll had a sticky baby. It was delicious. But boredom loomed.
"I miss the internet," he said to no one.
A merchant waved a shiny crystal orb in his face. "My lord! A seeing stone! Shows you images! Visions of other places!"
Chan stared at it. "…Is it TikTok?"
"It is… magic!" the merchant beamed.
"Hard pass."
He wandered some more. Picked up a weird book about herbal lore. Thought about buying a dagger just to feel something. Briefly considered starting a fistfight in the tavern just to see how many tavern tropes this world was legally obligated to have.
He passed by a flower stall and paused. White lilies. That was Giselle's favorite in the manhwa. Something about how pure and delicate they were. He made a face.
"Ugh, foreshadowing."
He glanced at the sky. Blue. Peaceful. Zero chance she'd be here.
Right?
Then, just as he turned down a narrow street, he heard a soft voice float through the air.
"Oh no, I didn't mean to bump into you!"
Chan froze.
Oh no.
Nope.
That voice was terrifyingly familiar.
He peeked around the corner.
There she was.
Long, golden hair cascading like a shampoo commercial. Flowing white dress. Eyes big, green, and sparkly with innocence. Helping an old lady pick up spilled fruit like she was auditioning to be the local saint.
Giselle Aurellia.
Thirty-one days early.
Chan backed into the alley like he'd seen a ghost.
"No. No. You are early. This is illegal. I had a schedule."
He peeked again. She was laughing. LAUGHING. And birds were gathering around her feet like this was a Disney movie.
Chan dragged a hand down his face.
"Okay. Minor plot shift. No big deal. I still have time to dodge the romance. She hasn't seen me. I'll just… leave. I'll go buy more bread. Or get fake arrested. Or run into a sewer. Something."
Then she turned.
And their eyes met.
…Of course they did.