"…I don't have all the answers yet. I still don't know why I was chosen… or what this world really needs from me."
Drake smiled faintly at his reflection in the mirror.
"But I do know one thing… I want to protect this place. Elsa's smile. The people's laughter. Their peace. I'll preserve it all."
His grip on Elsa's staff tightened.
"And if anything tries to take that away—I won't hesitate. That's a promise to myself. From this day forward."
His voice grew steady. Sharp. Resolute.
"When the time comes… I'll decide who I want to be."
He flashed a cocky smirk.
"Bring it on, world. I'll keep standing. And I'll blow out the brains of anything that stands in my way—with a smile on my face and pistols blazing."
DING!
His MirrorNet buzzed alive, casting blue light across his determined features.
*"hurry up dumbass, I'm still waiting."*
Drake's heroic moment deflated like a punctured balloon. "And back to reality we go."
He grabbed his clothes, giving himself one last approving nod in the mirror. "Alright, world of Elyndor. Let's see what chaos you've got planned for today."
---
The inn's lobby gleamed with polished marble and morning sunlight. Drake descended the creaking stairs, boots echoing dramatically in the spacious hall.
"Good morning, Sir Lorenzo," the receptionist chirped. "I trust you slept well?"
"Like a baby," Drake winked, spinning Elsa's staff with practiced flair. "A very handsome, reincarnated baby."
He pushed through the grand entrance doors, sunlight spilling over him like divine approval. The morning air carried the scent of fresh bread and expensive perfume—classic Sidonia.
"Took you long enough, sleeping beauty."
Elsa stood beside an elegant white carriage trimmed in gold, her sorceress robes a perfect blend of noble blue and silver. The outfit hugged her curves in ways that made Drake's brain short-circuit for a solid three seconds.
*Focus, you idiot. She's not wearing that for you.*
*But what if she is?*
*She's not.*
*…But what if—*
"Stop staring," Elsa huffed, cheeks turning pink. "You're doing that creepy smirk thing again."
"I don't have a creepy smirk. This is my charming, roguish grin." Drake handed over her staff with an exaggerated bow. "Your weapon, my lady."
"It's not a weapon, it's fluffbun. And you're still being weird."
"I'm always weird. That's part of my charm." He climbed into the carriage, settling into velvet seats that probably cost more than his old apartment's rent. "So where exactly are we going? Please tell me it's somewhere with food. I'm starving."
The carriage lurched forward, and suddenly Drake was hit with intense déjà vu. This was the same carriage where he'd accidentally face-planted into Elsa's chest yesterday. The memory made him grin like an idiot.
"What are you thinking about?" Elsa's eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"Nothing. Just admiring the scenery." His gaze drifted to her outfit again. "Really brings out your… architectural features. And the sexy ones too."
BONK!
Her staff connected with his skull.
"OW! Violence is not the answer to everything!"
"It's the answer to you being a pervert," Elsa muttered, face still flushed.
"Fair point. So seriously, where are we headed? You said shopping, but shopping for what? Please don't tell me it's boring stuff like dishes or curtains."
Elsa's blush deepened. "Just… girl things. You wouldn't understand."
"Girl things? Could you be more vague? What's next, 'lady business' and 'feminine mysteries'?"
WHACK!
"Stop asking questions!"
"That's strike two. Going for the hat trick?"
"Keep talking and find out."
Drake rubbed his forehead. "You know, back in Noveria, guys didn't usually get drafted as pack mules for shopping trips. This is uncharted territory for me."
"Well, congratulations. You're breaking new ground." Elsa looked out the window, avoiding his eyes. "Besides, I needed someone strong enough to carry everything."
"Ah, so you *were* checking out my muscles this morning." Drake flexed dramatically. "I knew it. The royal abs have claimed another victim."
"I was NOT checking you out! I was traumatized!"
"Traumatized by my devastating good looks, you mean."
"Traumatized by your complete lack of shame!"
The carriage rolled to a stop, saving Drake from another concussion. Outside, a massive building rose before them like a palace dedicated to fashion. Crystal windows sparkled with mana-light, and elegant mannequins posed in gowns that probably cost more than small kingdoms.
The golden sign read: **NOBLE LUXURY**
Drake's wallet whimpered in terror. "This place looks expensive just to look at. Are you sure we can afford to breathe the air in there?"
"Relax, drama queen. I'm paying." Elsa stepped out gracefully, every inch the noble lady.
The interior was a symphony of wealth—floating crystal chandeliers, silk displays, and soft piano music that probably cost extra. Behind the marble counter stood a distinguished man with a perfectly waxed mustache, sharp suit, and a monocle that caught the light like a tiny sun.
"Lady Elsa." He bowed with military precision. "Always a pleasure."
"Good to see you, Bartholomew." Elsa's demeanor shifted to full noble mode. "I trust you received my message?"
"Indeed. And this young gentleman?" Bartholomew's monocle glinted as he studied Drake like a specimen.
"This is Lorenzo. He's... helping me today."
*Helping? That's what we're calling it?*
Bartholomew raised an eyebrow. "I see. I wasn't aware you'd begun bringing young men on your shopping excursions again. Shall I remind you of the last incident with Lord Percival—"
"NO!" Elsa's face went nuclear. "We don't talk about that!"
Drake perked up immediately. "Oh, now I'm interested. What happened with Lord Percival?"
"Nothing happened!"
"Everything happened," Bartholomew said gravely. "The poor lad never recovered."
"You're not helping!" Elsa hissed.
"What did she do to him?" Drake whispered conspiratorially.
"Let's just say he learned why one shouldn't comment on a lady's undergarments."
Drake's brain screeched to a halt. "Under—wait, what?"
"BARTHOLOMEW!" Elsa looked ready to commit murder with her staff.
"My apologies, Lady Elsa. I assumed you'd briefed your companion on today's... specific shopping requirements."
The word 'undergarments' ricocheted around Drake's skull like a pinball. His face went through several colors before settling on tomato red.
"You brought me... to buy..." He gestured helplessly.
"It's not what you think!" Elsa looked like she wanted to disappear into the floor. "I just need a few things, and you're here to carry bags. That's ALL."
"Perhaps I should entertain the young man while you browse?" Bartholomew suggested. "The men's section has some excellent new arrivals."
"Yes. Do that. Keep him far away from the... other sections."
"Very good, my lady. Third fitting room on the left has what you requested."
Elsa hurried away like her robes were on fire, leaving Drake standing there with his brain completely offline.
"Well then," Bartholomew said cheerfully. "Shall we find you something appropriate to wear? Your current ensemble is rather... rustic."
Drake looked down at his simple clothes, then at Bartholomew's immaculate suit. "You know what? Yeah. Let's do this. If I'm going to be traumatized today, I might as well look good doing it."
"Excellent attitude, sir. Right this way."
As they walked toward the men's section, Drake's inner rogue began plotting. *Operation: Accidentally Get Lost And Definitely Peek At Elsa in her undies is officially underway.*
He cracked his knuckles and whispered under his breath, "Let's see just how good this place's security really is."
Bartholomew's monocle glinted dangerously. "I should mention, Sir Lorenzo, that I have exceptional hearing. And reflexes."
Drake's scheming grin froze. "Noted."
"Splendid. Now, shall we start with something in navy blue? It would complement your roguish complexion beautifully."
*This is going to be a long day.*