CH 10

The next day came, and it was just as busy as the one before. A new wave of customers barged in after hearing word on the streets. Stella should have seen it coming; the people of this town didn’t care about anything other than having fun in the here and now. What she had no way of knowing, however, was that so many of today’s customers would order the ultimate tears and mix them with alcohol. Idiots, all of them. But they’re paying idiots.

Every time one of her customers became too much of a nuisance, Stella would use Mace’s men to drive him into one of the nearby empty houses.

“More booze! Can’t you see we’re all out of booze to mix?”

“Need another glass over here! Hurry up, brat! I don’t like waiting!”

“Where’s my food, granny? I ain’t got all day!”

Looking at the brutes, Stella couldn’t help feeling slightly regretful over how her new product had turned out. It was a little too effective. One of these people might lash out and start breaking everything at any moment. What would she do then?

Why are they treating this place as a restaurant anyway? The food they had was mostly canned and meant for long storage, and though Marie was doing her best to cook them simple meals, she had no hopes of keeping up with the demand. The idiots had occupied every bit of floor inside and outside the store, all the way to the street, and now they were having a party. At least no one was bold enough to steal anything or leave without paying—not with the Stock Company’s eyes and ears so close by—but that also meant more work for Rye, the cashier.

“Stella! I can’t keep up!” she shouted. “Do something!”

“Absolutely not. It’s my nap time.”

“You can’t just sleep and leave us like this! C’mon, Marie, tell her she can’t!”

“Don’t worry about me,” said Marie. “I can handle this. Rest as much as you need, Miss Stella.”

“Marie . . .”

“Thank you,” said Stella. “I’ll leave you in charge of Beck and the Stock Company men. Use them as you see fit. And while I don’t want to hire more people right now, I’ll think of something else to make things easier for you in the future. Well then, see you after my nap.”

‘Yer really gonna do it, eh?’

“Afternoon naps are a good stimulus for the brain. Though all this noise is like to give me nightmares.”

Stella retreated into the house, leaving the poor lost lambs to their own devices. She remembered the offer Mace had made yesterday—which she had refused—to sell the tears of falling stars in her place. After her nap, she intended to contact him and say yes this time. If she could nap through this storm at all.

She had no qualms about taking the offer. It didn't matter to Stella if the store had good business or not; what she wanted was to earn a living. If she ever severed connections with the Stock Company for one reason or another, Stella would be left without an income. It didn’t seem likely to happen, but in this chaos of a town, anything was possible. I need backup plans, she thought. Maybe join their enemy, the Palpud Union. Or a different organization in another district.

As today’s noisy guests had served to prove, however, plans weren’t guaranteed to work. Well, sometimes you just have to live in the moment. I’m fine with that. It’s what humans would do.

With that excuse in mind, Stella slipped into bed. Today she would nap for a whole hour. It’s not my fault that I’m exhausted. I’m just human.

Upon waking up, Stella decided to take action immediately. The noise was too much for her to concentrate on her training.

“Finally, I think it’s calmed down a little,” said Rye. “Stella, you’re my savior.”

“To think there were so many sub-Becks in this world,” said Stella. “My eyes have been opened.”

“You know, I think letting them sell it in their taverns was the right choice. It’s gonna sell like bananas, I bet.”

The deal was for Stella to keep producing the tears of falling stars and sell it to the Stock Company by the barrel. Then they’d be free to do with it as they pleased.

“We’ll still sell it as well, but no more eating or drinking inside. This isn’t a dining hall, or a tavern, for that matter. And I don’t have the patience of a saint to deal with these sub-Becks every day all day long.”

“. . . Beck would probably cry if he heard that, you know.”

“You’re right, the man would be overwhelmed with joy.”

“Actually, yeah, I can’t deny that. That’s kinda sad.”

Laughing, Rye drank a glass of tears. The regular kind, which shouldn’t give her any issues as long as she kept it to three glasses or so a day. It was an icy cold, delicious drink, so she must have decided it was worth drinking after all.

“Ah, that hit the spot.” Chuckling, she added, “Imagine if it became a local specialty.”

“That’s never happening. Making enough to supply the whole town would take a lot of energy and motivation that I don’t have. I’m not about to stand in front of those barrels all day long, not even for the sake of my training.”

“So there is a price, huh. I was wondering. I don’t know much about these things.”

“It uses some of my mana. Nothing much, though.”

It was a simple transmutation spell. Nothing she couldn’t handle, but still an annoyance. And with her deal with Mace settled, there was no reason to produce any more than necessary. If I don’t want to do something, I won’t. My time is far too precious to waste with that.

“An elixir to cure junkies, and a juice that’s out of this world . . . I don’t know, this magic business sounds pretty convenient. I wish I knew some magic too.”

“Sorry to put a damper on your dreams, but no common sorcerer can do these things. Only I can.”

“Really? And what makes you so special?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Tch. The Almighty Alchemist doth not part with her secrets.”

“Exactly. So give up.”

Stella gave her a wry smile, which she returned with a sulky one of her own. Rye seemed to be feeling completely at ease around Stella now. Maybe their closeness in age had helped with that. She’s lucky I’m not planning to betray her trust.

“Oh, right,” said Stella. “I’m going out later to buy some clothes. Would you come along? No—you are coming along. That’s an order.”

“An order? What?”

“What’s wrong? I’m your master, aren’t I?”

“Well, you are, but . . .” She thought for a moment. “Hmm, it doesn’t really feel that way. I guess because you’re just a child.”

Stella had no experience leading people; she was simply giving orders whenever something needed to be done. To work with people, though, she must be intimidating enough that they’d respect her, but not so much that they’d humble themselves around her. That wouldn’t be fun. Balance was key.

“It’ll feel that way soon enough. Mark my words.”

“Guess I touched a nerve, huh. What kind of clothes are you gonna buy anyway? Something sporty for your morning walks?”

“This outfit I’m wearing is good enough for that. Apparently I’m an alchemist, remember? No alchemist dresses like this, though. And as a human, shouldn’t I start by looking the part?”

“You’ve got a point, I guess. Only a kid would wear those clothes.”

“Maybe you should put them on, then.”

Thin, white children’s clothes, on top of her paleness, skinny build, and silver bob cut. Were she to lie down on the side of a road, people might actually mistake her for a corpse. Getting new clothes would be a good start to fix that. White was currently the main color of her wardrobe, thanks to her mother’s tastes, which Stella didn’t particularly share.

Accompanied by Rye and an escort of Beck and three other thugs, Stella went out to visit a clothing store in the West District. From an outsider’s perspective, it might have looked like she and Rye were on their way to be sold at the slave market—or rather, it couldn’t have looked like anything else. Every bystander glanced at the group, realized what was probably going on, and looked the other way. This was nothing new. Better people, with a strong sense of justice, might have stepped in to save her; but not these people. Beck would discover his faith in God and go on to become a priest before that ever happened.

“Uh, ma’am?” asked Beck when he caught her looking at him. “Did I do something I shouldn’t have?”

“It’s nothing. I was just thinking how you never change. Good luck with the rest of your life.”

“Uh . . . Thank you!”

It wasn’t a compliment, but Beck seemed to think it was. He smiled, an innocent smile that distorted his rough features in such a way that made Stella’s skin crawl. From the looks of it, the other thugs from her escort were feeling the same way, but just like her, they didn’t voice their thoughts. These were elite thugs, who could follow orders. The next step in their evolution tree was to become bandits and mercenaries. For the sake of society, Stella should probably put them down before that happened, but right now they were still being useful to her.

“Is this the place?”

It was a small shop. Inside, a couple was working at the needles with a diligence the likes of which had rarely been seen in this town. They’re probably being exploited by someone else. The shop didn’t look very lively.

“Yeah,” Rye replied. “This is the place Marie and me visited yesterday. They’ve got children’s clothes and work clothes and stuff. It’s all pretty cheap.”

“What I want is to dress like an alchemist. I doubt they’ll be able to help me.”

“What does that even mean, though? I’ve never seen an alchemist before. I don’t know what kind of clothes they wear.”

It would be stranger if she had seen one before. There was no such thing in this world as a spell to create gold out of thin air. Not real gold, at least.

“I imagine it’d be the same kind that sorcerers wear. Don’t ask me. As long as it makes people stop seeing me as a little girl, anything’s fine.”

“Hmm, I don’t know if that’s possible. I mean, no clothes can hide who you really are—a brat full of yourself.”

“Watch how you talk to your master, child.”

“I sincerely apologize, Master. Ugh, almost bit my tongue saying that.”

Having wasted some time bantering with Rye, Stella asked the elite thugs if they knew any fancier stores, and they mentioned the place where Mace bought his own clothes. When Stella ordered them to take her there, their eyes flashed with anger, yet they begrudgingly agreed. She was their golden goose, after all, and care must be taken lest she be offended. They may not be the smartest, but at least they know to follow their orders.

The elite thugs took her to what humans would call a dangerous neighborhood, where taverns and gambling dens and brothels operated unapologetically in broad daylight. As soon as they arrived, a man approached them from one of the brothels.

“How’s it going, chiefs? We’ve got some new girls, ripe for the taking. How ’bout you sell off those skinny urchins and come back to spend a night in heaven, huh?”

“You shut up. The skinny urchins—I mean, the ladies—they’re not what you think. If you don’t want the Stock Company on your ass, get lost!”

“Wha—? I-I’m so sorry! Please forget I said anything!”

Ignoring the man on his hands and knees, Stella urged the group on. This was not worth her time.

Shortly after, they arrived at a luxury store. Beyond the glass front were fancy dresses on display, some embroidered, others adorned with jewels, but all done lavishly to the point of bad taste. Still, they’re a symbol of status and wealth. This store was under the banner of the Stock Company, and it showed.

“So this is the place. It looks like they might just have what I’m looking for.”

“I . . . I’ve never been to a place like this before. Don’t you think, uh—are you sure it’s safe?”

“Come on, don’t try to hide behind me. We have Beck and the elite thugs on our side, remember? Useless as they are, they can at least take a few hits for us.”

“Elite thugs?!” They glared at Stella.

She glared back. “Any problems, hmm?”

“. . . No.” They looked aside.

Their faces said otherwise, but they didn’t press the matter. They’re elite for a reason, and this is it.

Once they were past the sturdy front door and into the store, a woman in heavy makeup, who looked to be well on the way to her forties, slowly emerged to greet them. “Welcome to Limon’s Boutique. Are you here on behalf of Mr. Mace?”

“Not today,” said one of the elite thugs. “We need you to make an outfit for the brat—I mean, for Lady Stella here.”

“As you wish. Follow me, if you please.”

With a smile plastered on her face, the owner—whose name seemed to be Limon—summoned an employee, who immediately started taking Stella’s measurements.

“What kind of outfit are you looking for?” asked Limon. “There’s nothing I can’t help you with.”

“I want you to dress me up like a sorcerer, complete with the pointiest hat you have.”

“. . . Excuse me?”

“Turn me into your image of a sorcerer,” she repeated. “If it’s money you’re worried about, I have plenty.”

At Stella’s request, Beck opened the coin pouch and showed its contents to Limon. That shocked her a little, but not enough to break her smile. Very professional of her.

“As you wish,” Limon said after a few moments. “But . . . are you absolutely certain you want to leave everything to me?”

“I am. It’s no small feat, running a store at a place like this. You must be a first-rate fashionista. I’m looking forward to what you’ll come up with.”

The smile finally twitched at the insolence. But after a quick recovery, Limon set to work.

“Is it to your liking?”

“Well,” said Stella, “this is a sorcerer’s outfit, if I’ve ever seen one. Don’t you agree, Rye?”

A cloak with a purple motif, and a purple pointy hat with white lines, both dotted with decorations and studded with jewels. Underneath the cloak, as chance would have it, she wore white garments; yet like the rest, these were high quality and beautifully adorned. The white was oddly accentuated by the purple of the cloak.

Stella was satisfied. She looked in the mirror; the girl on the other side exhaled an air of intelligence. This looks pretty good on me, if I do say so myself.

“I mean, it is,” said Rye. “It does look good on you. It’s just . . . That’s, uh . . .”

“Is something wrong?”

Rye mumbled, then said, “No, not really.”

“Do I look so smart that you’re at a loss for words?”

“Uh, more cute than smart, I’d say. You look like one of those cute small witches you see in picture books. It’s like you’re trying to look all grown-up, which is kind of adorable, really.”

Now it was Stella who was at a loss for words. A cute small witch. Her mood dropped in an instant.

“Oh my, you look wonderful!” exclaimed Limon, intruding into their conversation. But what her face plainly said was, “Please don’t leave without buying anything after all this!”

“I’m glad you think so. There’s something I want to ask, though.”

“Yes?”

“How did you get this so quickly in my size? These are no children’s clothes, not by a long stretch.”

“I get similar requests to yours from time to time, so I always have a few in stock.”

“What kind of requests?”

Limon hesitated. “Requests for . . . costumes. Meant for little young ladies of high birth. They wear it in festivals, I hear. Sometimes they get little toy staffs to go with it.”

Rye burst into laughter. So did the elite thugs. Beck was trying his best to keep a straight face, so Stella planted a foot on his shin. He fell to the ground and stopped moving. This is your punishment. You were asking for it.

“I’m going home,” she said.

“No, wait, I’m sorry!” said Rye. “Don’t get mad! It looks great on you, I swear!”

“I’m not so petty that I’d get mad over this. I’m just upset.”

“It’s the same thing, eh?!”

“Now you’re talking like Clever.”

“Ugh. That’s just the worst, eh—” She realized and covered her mouth. “Oh.”

“Limon, I want a second set just like this one. Beck will come get it once it’s done.”

“As you wish. Thank you for your patronage.”

Outside, Stella looked at her new clothes once more. Is this why humans like to dress up? It feels good. I like these clothes, no matter what anyone says. She touched her pointy hat, adjusted it, looked at it again. Yes, she thought. Not bad at all.