Sigh, Master really does love lecturing. It’s the weekend, and she’s still reciting knowledge points, Dorothy grumbled inwardly.
She stole a glance at Baggins, who was draped in fine silks and satins, and felt a growing sense of pity. It was such a waste to ruin a perfectly good outfit like that. The man should have at least taken a bath before putting it on; the dead skin on his body looked like it was about to crack open.
Wait… is it actually cracking?
Dorothy caught a glimpse of something as Baggins tilted his head. A circular fissure had split open across the skin of his throat, revealing a flash of smooth, dark green underneath.
She blinked, and the gap was gone.
I must be seeing things, Dorothy thought.
Wang Yue, satisfied after giving her roommates a supplementary lesson, headed off toward the blacksmith’s shop. Dina and Matcha also departed to buy ingredients and cooking utensils.
Dorothy moved out as well, asking for directions as she made her way toward the apothecary.
The slip of paper with the prescription was carefully folded and hidden in her sock. As for the five Golden Spike Coins, she clutched them in her hand with a white-knuckled grip, terrified someone might rob her—she had never held so much money in her life.
Dorothy was determined to do this right. She wanted to overturn her image as a “clumsy little maid” in her master’s eyes and truly impress her.
But she was the type who couldn’t keep still for long. After only a few steps, she tentatively loosened her grip to stare at the golden light leaking through her fingers, her expression one of obsession.
“Is this real gold? It’s so yellow and pretty… I heard pure gold is soft and shows teeth marks if you bite it. I really want to try.”
As if possessed, Dorothy opened her mouth, a thin trail of saliva escaping. She hurriedly tried to wipe it with the back of her hand, but since her dominant hand was the one holding the gold, her fingers slipped. The coins hit the ground with a sharp clink-clink-clank.
Dorothy scrambled to her knees to pick them up, looking utterly flustered.
Suddenly, a pale, soft hand reached out from the side, picked up one of the coins, and pressed it into her palm.
“Thank you…”
Dorothy looked up and saw Medeili.
The orange-haired girl tilted her head, her gentle gaze seemingly peering straight into Dorothy’s soul. Dorothy’s lips trembled, unsure of what to say.
She wasn’t very close with the girls from Room 201, especially Medeili. This particular classmate seemed easygoing, but in reality, she rarely engaged with others. On the rare occasions she did speak, her words were always strange, usually following the pattern of: “If you don’t pay attention to [X], you will likely die.” One could only say she possessed a very… long-term perspective.
“Do you like bottles?” Medeili asked in her usual slow, melodious voice.
The question was nonsensical. Dorothy could only manage a polite, awkward smile while her mind went blank. What the hell are bottles? Does it have a hidden meaning? Is it some kind of slang?
Suddenly, Medeili’s gaze shifted, looking over Dorothy’s shoulder toward the space behind her. She spoke warmly. “You’re here.”
Dorothy instinctively turned around. There was no one there.
A shiver ran down her spine. This was too creepy. Who was Medeili talking to?
If she had looked up, she would have seen a massive, pitch-black crow perched on the roof. Its feathers were as sharp as blades, and its long beak shimmered with a metallic luster. It cocked its head, staring down at them with blood-red pupils.
The crow took flight, slicing through the air with a piercing shriek before landing on Medeili’s shoulder.
Winnie, who was standing nearby, instinctively looked away, assuming Medeili was about to slaughter another small animal. To her surprise, Medeili simply reached out to stroke the crow’s feathers.
“This is my family’s crow,” Medeili explained. “He told me that my butler, Mr. Bizlu, sent some beautiful bottles. I just need to go to the post station to collect them.”
Medeili bypassed the general store and headed for the post station after bidding Dorothy goodbye. Her roommates followed behind her.
Not every room was like Room 202, where everyone had their own specific plans; most students were just wandering around, enjoying a pleasant weekend with their friends.
“Mr. Bizlu went to the Evil-Tooth Dragon Forest? To find staff material for me? That was a lot of trouble for him,” Medeili said happily, scratching the crow between its eyes.
Having spent nearly a week together, her roommates had grown accustomed to her eccentricities and no longer found them strange. They crowded around Medeili, four or five small hands reaching out to stroke the crow’s satin-smooth feathers.
“Caw!” the crow let out another unintelligible cry.
“I need to get along with my classmates and not bully others? I know. There are pastries and candies in the shipment? I should share them? Wonderful. I like those, and I’m sure they will too…”
Medeili bobbed her head, her beautiful orange hair swaying with the movement.
The post station was just ahead. It was a boxy structure built on log stilts about a meter off the ground, reinforced with iron plating. These long boxes were piled haphazardly and connected irregularly, resembling a train that had jumped the tracks.
In the Evernight Realm, the most reliable mounts weren’t horses but lizards. They were generally divided into two types: the “Forest-Leap Lizard,” a bipedal creature used for solo riding, and the “Sand-Crawler Lizard,” a gecko-like beast used for carrying multiple passengers or heavy cargo. Adult Sand-Crawlers often exceeded four meters in length.
Along the outer wall of the station, lizards equipped with saddles and cargo packs lowered their heads into a long trough to feast on sand-worm feed, juice spraying everywhere as they chewed.
At the corner where two of the station’s box-houses met stood a giant water barrel made of hoop-bound saxaul wood. It was four or five meters high and wide enough to require ten people to encircle it. Three taps protruded from its base.
An old man in a bicorne hat and a jacket stood guard nearby; this was where water was sold.
Balor Academy was built against a mountain and piped in snowmelt, so it never lacked water, but things were different down on the plains. Due to the lack of vegetation, river water was generally turbid and foul-smelling. Standing water was even worse, plagued by heavy metal deposits, rotting corpses, oral toxins, and “malice seepage.” Finding drinkable water was a challenge.
Medeili turned her head toward the left intersection. A tall, thin man was walking toward them.
His complexion was ghastly, as if he were suffering from a terminal illness. He shuffled his feet, his soles nearly worn through, kicking up clouds of dust with every step.
Whether it was an illusion or not, his neck looked abnormally long and thin. His head jutted forward in a strange curve, and his two eyeballs seemed to be spinning in different directions.
As he drew closer, a raspy voice croaked from his throat:
“Water… water…”
He repeated the word over and over, his throat clearly parched. Strangely, however, his lips were still quite red and moist, not showing the signs of extreme dehydration.
As the tall man passed them, Medeili suddenly noticed that his pupils had shattered and collapsed. Within the fissures, countless tiny compound eyes were teeming, a sight that made one’s skin crawl.
They brushed past each other.
The tall man headed for the water barrel, while Medeili led her roommates into the post station.
***
“Miss Medeili, I presume?”
The stationmaster was a small, thin man wearing a dark brown vest and wire-rimmed spectacles secured with a cord. His face was taut, his expression grim. After confirming her identity, he dragged a wooden crate out from the back room.
“It’s all here.”
Medeili knelt and opened the lid. Seeing the beautiful bottles well-protected by cork shavings, she flashed a satisfied smile. Some of the bottles weren’t empty; they were filled with pastries and candies. She unscrewed one and handed out handfuls to her roommates.
Its mission complete, the crow took flight from her shoulder like an arrow from a bow. It shot out of the station and climbed steeply into the air, soaring over the small marketplace.
In front of a fast-food stall, Lilith—who was currently berating Mapeel—suddenly looked up. She snatched at the air, but her hand fell short by a foot. She couldn’t use “Soul Snatch” on a crow flying that high.
“Tch.”
She turned her gaze back to Mapeel.
“Did you hear me? Come with me to get measured for costumes. Drop that little cripple and pick her up later!”
Under that fierce, intimidating glare, a Great Terror seized Mapeel’s heart. Her legs felt weak, her knees knocking together as she trembled. She could barely remain standing.
Yet, she still shook her head, resolutely refusing to abandon her sister.
Lilith’s patience finally snapped. The academy only had ready-made clothing shops; they couldn’t custom-order costumes there. The marketplace had fabric merchants, and while the quality wasn’t top-tier, it was good enough for a performance. If they didn’t get this done over the weekend, they would have to wait another week.
