Birds chirped outside.
Carts creaked past the house, heavy sacks piled high, wheels grinding against stone.
Everyone was already busy.
***
Harlyn paced back and forth across the room, one palm pressed to her cheek.
In her other hand, she held up a small pouch of coins, narrowing her eyes at it,
as if it might answer her.
There are twenty bronze in here…
Should I count it again?
Harlyn shook her head.
Probably not necessary—
But… is twenty bronze enough?
She squeezed her eyes shut and scratched her head, lips pursed in frustration.
Maybe I should buy the item first, then food later.
…
No, no!
Food is still the most important.
She sighed, shoulders drooping.
“I’ll make it work,” she whispered, clutching the pouch tightly.
***
She was slipping on the cloak.
It swallowed her—
The sleeves hung past her fingers, hiding her hands completely. The hood fell low over her eyes, and the hem dragged against the floor.
I wonder why Uncle made me wear this…
Harlyn rolled up the sleeves with intense concentration, tongue peeking slightly from the corner of her mouth.
But the moment she lowered her arms, they slipped back down.
She ignored it.
Lifting the hood just enough to see, she gathered the front of the cloak in both hidden hands so it wouldn’t sweep the ground.
She spun once to check—
The hem caught around her ankle.
Slid.
Thud.
She landed hard on the floor. The hood dropped back over her face.
…
“Whaaa…” Her voice trembled before dissolving into tears.
But no one heard.
No one came.
No one answered.
…
Still sniffling, she pushed herself upright, sleeves brushing clumsily at her wet cheeks.
She stared at the door.
What if I fall outside…?
Will people laugh at me?
…
But if I don’t go, Uncle will be hungry.
And I won’t be able to buy those things…
Her small hands clenched inside the long sleeves.
She nodded to herself.
Reaching through layers of fabric, she fumbled for the doorknob.
Click.
Sunlight burst in, bright and overwhelming after the dim house.
…
Harlyn blinked.
Wait—
Where do I even buy things?
Her shoulders sagged.
Uncle didn’t show me…
Across the street, a woman watering plants caught her eye.
Harlyn stepped forward—
“HEY!”
“Watch where you’re going!”
A carriage rattled past. An old man glared down at her.
Harlyn stepped back, lowering her head.
“I’m sorry…” she whispered, fingers curling into the fabric of her cloak.
Suddenly—
A warm hand gently took hers.
She looked up.
The woman from across the street smiled kindly.
“Here, let me help you cross.”
As they stepped into the road, Harlyn noticed the woman glancing left and right before guiding her forward.
After reaching the other side, the woman crouched to Harlyn’s level.
“You just moved here? I’ve never seen you before.”
Harlyn nodded.
“What’s your name?”
“Harlyn…” she replied softly.
The woman giggled. “That’s a lovely name. Next time, remember to look both ways before crossing.”
Harlyn nodded again.
The woman stood and returned to her watering can.
…
She paused.
“Huh? What’s wrong?”
Harlyn was still standing there, clutching the oversized cloak.
Her lips trembled.
“Can you…”
She swallowed.
“Can you show me where I can buy food?”
The woman blinked, surprised.
“You mean the market?”
“Market…?” Harlyn echoed.
“Jukig didn’t show you?”
She shook her head.
The woman smiled warmly and slipped her hand into the folds of Harlyn’s sleeve, holding it gently.
“You’re lucky. I’m heading there too.”
“Harlyn, try remember the way so you can go by yourself next time.”
She nodded.
Their figures gradually disappeared down the road.
…
“By the way, that coat is pretty big, isn't it?” the woman asked lightly.
***
They arrived at the town square.
A wide circular road curved around a roaring waterfall at its center. Endless rows of stalls stretched outward like spokes.
Noise crashed together in layers.
“Need a weapon? Armor?”
Clang. Clang.
A blacksmith hammered steel without looking up.
“Here hold all the protections you need!”
Harlyn turned to another stall—
“Fresh meat! Fresh meat!”
“Killogs! Lei-Berg! GoGo! Best cuts in town!”
Another—
“Ever seen the sea? Creatures hid in the depths—right here!”
Harlyn’s eyes sparkled.
“Alright, Harlyn,” the woman said, giving her shoulder a small squeeze. “Shop carefully.”
Harlyn looked up. “Where are you going?”
“I need to buy groceries for my family. Good luck out here.” She waved.
…
Harlyn watched her figure slowly disappear into the moving crowd.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
The market, once full of curiosity, suddenly felt suffocating.
Cold.
Crowded.
Left out...
But then—
She noticed the smiling faces around the meat stall.
Laughter. Bargaining.
Her fear loosened slightly.
She stepped forward and joined the crowd.
***
“What do you want?”
A stout man leaned over the counter, peering down at her.
Behind him, a younger man chopped meat with steady rhythm.
“Can I have Killogs?” Harlyn asked softly, pointing at the creature hanging nearby.
The butcher blinked.
“The whole thing?!”
She flailed instinctively, sleeves swinging wildly as her hidden hands waved in panic.
“N-no!”
He huffed.
“Then what part?"
"Leg? Head? Lean? Ribs? Belly?”
“Can you…”
Harlyn swallowed.
“Can you give me what people usually buy?”
Thump.
Thump.
The vendor dropped two pieces of meat onto the counter.
“Lean,” he tapped the left.
“Belly,” he tapped the right.
Harlyn rose onto her toes, peering over the edge.
The right piece caught her eye.
White streaks…
This one must taste better…
“So belly, then?” the vendor asked.
She nodded quickly.
He grabbed the slab, looped string around one end, and set it back down.
“Thirty bronze.”
Harlyn’s eyes widened.
“Hah—?”
“First time at the market, kid? Killogs isn’t cheap.”
Her hidden hands twisted inside the long sleeves of her cloak.
It’s too big…
...
That's right-
When my dad caught a Killogs, he had to share it with the village.
Our family alone couldn't finish all of it...
“C-can you cut it for me?”
“HEY, LITTLE BRAT!”
“Hurry up and buy the dang meat!”
A sharp voice cut through the crowd behind her.
Harlyn flinched and lowered her head.
“I’m sorry…” she whispered.
The vendor shot the woman an annoyed look. “Let the kid buy, will you?”
“HUH?! I’LL BUY SOMEWHERE ELSE THEN!” the woman snapped.
A few customers muttered and also stepped away.
The butcher behind sighed.
The vendor ignored him and hovered his hand over the slab.
“This much?”
Harlyn shook her head.
He lowered his hand to about a third.
“This?”
She nodded rapidly.
“Knife,” he called over his shoulder.
“Can’t you grab it yourself?” the butcher grumbled.
“Just pass it to me already.”
The butcher handed it over with a glare.
Clunk.
One clean strike.
The vendor pushed the smaller cut toward her.
“Thirteen bronze.”
Harlyn lifted her pouch and poured the coins into her sleeve-covered palm.
“One… two…”
The vendor rubbed his forehead with a tired smile.
“Of all days…”
Harlyn panicked.
“I’m sorry!”
“Seven… eight… nine…”
Her voice grew faster.
“Just count carefully,” he muttered. “No need to rush.”
“Twelve—”
“I’m sorry, sir!” she blurted, grabbing the meat and bowing repeatedly.
He waved her off. “Go on. I’ve got other customers.”
She kept bowing as she backed away.
“Should’ve kicked her out from the start,” the butcher muttered.
“And then she tells her family?” the vendor replied without turning. “You want that?”
“We already have a bad reputation,” the butcher grumbled.
***
Harlyn clutched the wrapped meat to her chest, head lowered as she walked.
It felt like everyone was staring at her.
But no one was.
The crowd flowed past, indifferent.
…
“Wood carving tools! Finest blades in the square!”
Harlyn stopped.
Wood carving…?
She turned toward the voice and hurried through the stalls.
***
By the time she reached it, she was slightly out of breath.
“What’s wrong, little miss?” the shopkeeper asked kindly.
“What do you need?”
Harlyn scanned the display, breathing uneven.
A knife…
And…
Her eyes found it.
“There!”
She pointed.
“That knife… and that one.”
“A carving knife.” He placed it on the counter.
“And a chisel.” He set it beside the knife.
“Ten bronze.”
Harlyn emptied her remaining coins carefully.
“One… two… three…”
The man counted with a glance.
“That’s only seven.”
She froze.
“You’re short three bronze.”
Her gaze dropped to the coins.
Thirty minus—
No…
Twenty minus thirteen…
…
Seven.
Her mind stalled.
The shopkeeper waved a hand in front of her face.
“Are you buying?”
“If you don’t have enough, take the knife. It’s more important.”
“But…” her voice trembled.
“They’re five each,” he added.
"Then..." Harlyn slowly pushed five coins forward.
“Then get her both.”
A calm voice spoke from beside her.
She turned.
A tall young man stood there.
Dark blue skin. Black stripes trailing along his arms. Clothes worn but neat.
He placed three bronze coins on the counter without looking at her.
“Keep it,” he said simply.
Then he walked away.
Harlyn watched him go.
Her lips parted slightly.
But no sound came out.
The shopkeeper chuckled. “Lucky girl.”
He slid the knife and chisel toward her.
“They’re yours.”
Harlyn picked them up slowly, bowing faintly.
But her thoughts wouldn’t settle.
Why…?
We don’t even know each other…
***
The piece of meat hung neatly against the kitchen wall.
Harlyn sat cross-legged on the bed, guiding a wooden peg into a small carved horse.
The chisel and carving knife rested across her lap.
Outside, the sky was slipping into evening.
Click.
“I’m home.”
Thump.
Jukig dropped the bag onto the floor—exhausted.
He let out a long yawn.
“Uncle!”
Harlyn rushed over and wrapped her arms around his legs.
She looked up at him, eyes bright.
“I have a present for you!”
“A present?” Jukig raised a brow.
Harlyn giggled and nodded, then darted back to the bed, picking up the chisel and carving knife.
She held them out carefully.
Jukig froze.
He took them slowly.
“But how…”
His gaze flickered to the bag on the floor.
“Oh-“
Then back to Harlyn.
Harlyn clasped her hands together, rocking on her heels, waiting.
Jukig reached down and patted her head.
“No wonder Meryl always says Harlyn is quick-witted.”
Harlyn closed her eyes, smiling shyly, cheeks pink.
Jukig’s gaze lingered on her for a moment—
Then dropped.
“You should go change your shirt later.”
He pointed at the front of her dress.
Harlyn looked down.
She grabbed the hem and lifted it slightly.
There, against the brown fabric, was a dark, uneven stain spreading across her chest.
Where did this come from…?
Her eyes widened.
“Oh! Right!”
“I bought meat too!” she said, pointing toward the kitchen.
Jukig turned.
“Wow. Killogs meat?”
…
He blinked, then turned back to her.
“If that’s the case…”
His expression shifted.
“Do you have any money left?”
Harlyn kept smiling.
She shook her head lightly.
“You didn’t buy anything for yourself?!”
She shook her head again—slower this time.
Her smile faltered.
“I’m sorry…”
“No, no—” Jukig waved both hands quickly.
“Don’t apologize. I should be the one apologizing—”
“Damn it.” He pressed his palm to his forehead.
“I didn’t even show you the way to the market.”
He dragged his hand down his face with a groan.
Harlyn grabbed his hand.
“Uncle, Uncle. It’s okay!”
“A lady across the street showed me—”
Jukig froze.
His shoulders slowly slumped.
“I didn't even walk you there, I let my niece navigate a city alone…”
His face darkened.
"Don't scare me, Uncle, it's not your fault!" Harlyn shook his hand gently.
Jukig's body was shaken back and forth by her like a tree branch.
"I’m a terrible uncle…"
“No, you’re not!”
“Uncle, Uncle?!”
Her voice bounced off and shot straight into the evening sky.
