“That’s it, then. These are the newest, hottest things on the market for mages!” The bearded man laughed.

“Really?”

“Yeah! Apparently they’re a type of catalyst for you mages! Specially made n’ stuff–I dunno how they work exactly, but apparently they boost the proficiency of your magic flingin’!” The man told him.

It sounded nice, and it was free with the staff holster anyway, so he smiled, “I’ll take both, then!”

“That’s what I like to hear!” The shopkeeper smiled.

Though it was an obvious ploy to secure a new customer into a repeat buyer, he could sense that the man was quite benevolent.

“One crown!” The shopkeeper told him the price.

It was a bit confusing for him at first to adjust to the labels of currency in this world, but it was easy enough to figure out when he applied it to game logic:

Copper is copper, ‘Crowns’ are ‘silver’, and ‘Thrones’ are gold! He thought.

He obliged, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the sole coin in there, but stopping as he withdrew it.

I can’t use this one. That red-haired adventurer gave it to me…It’s going to be what I use my adventurer fee for! I promise! He resolved.

Instead, he opened his sack of coins, grabbing a shiny coin and placing it on the counter, which the merchant accepted._.

“Be safe out there! Word of advice: don’t let too many people see that bag o’ money you’ve got!” The bearded man advised.

With a nod, he smiled, “Thanks!”

Yeah, I figured that out the hard way! He thought.

As he left the store with his staff maintained on his back and a new, slick glove, he felt as if he fit right in with the bustling crowd of adventurers that seemed to make up almost a majority of the people within Elsia.

After being distracted once again, his stomach growled as he realized he still had yet to grab something to eat.

I’ve got to find something to eat–stat. If I’m going to take advantage of this free day of splurging, I need to do it on a full stomach! He thought.

“Oh! Sounds like somebody is hungry!”

The call of his empty stomach was heard by some coincidence by the man to his left that called out to him.

“–” He looked to the side with an embarrassed tint to his cheeks.

It was an older gentleman with a bushy mustache and a welcoming smile. Though what was more welcoming to the food-seeking young boy was what the man stood behind: a streetside shop that had a fresh aroma swirling around it.

Although it was a confusing mixture of scents at first–sweat like fresh caramel glory, but savory like a brisket bathed in marinade, he soon saw what it was that was being sold at the street-side, small establishment: skewers–some more of a salty variety, and some more of a dessert feel.

“–“

“C’mon! Try one!” The older man urged him, gesturing with his hands.

“I don’t know–I’m not that hungry…” he chuckled.

–Another growl of his stomach emitted, this time loud enough to have surpassed some of the nearest words of passing people, prompting him to blush further.

The food merchant laughed, “Your stomach is more honest than your tongue, lad.”

There was no arguing as he finally obliged and stepped forward, looking at the skewers that are on display.

Enveloped in steam as they were freshly grilled over a contraption behind the mustache-possessing chef, the skewers were either packed with savory meat on the sticks–which seemed in heavy variation itself in chicken, beef, or even “behemoth meat”; or more sweet skewers that were laced with fruits that were decorated in delectable sprinkles.

The smell was overwhelming as he found himself almost foaming out the mouth at the fresh aroma.

“Does anything catch your eye? Perhaps a spicy-chicken sword? A creamy, marinated beef-and-pepper sword?” The kind, but passionate chef presented his savory wares, “Perhaps something more saccharine is more to your stomach’s desire? A green-apple-sparkle sword? A sour, rainbow sword?”

Apparently the skewers seemed to be called “swords”–though he didn’t know if that was just the general term in this world or something exclusive to this small, local merchant.

As he looked around, it didn’t seem to be the only pop-up, small-scale restaurant on the street–not even close. There were quite a few people, in fact, that he saw walking around with the very same skewers from this place.

“–” He gulped, not knowing what to pick with so many options.

As he looked at the large variety of steaming “swords”, he was taken by surprise as one was presented to him personally by the man.

“What’s this?” He asked.

“The ‘Behemoth Field” sword,” the kind, mustache-bearing man said, “If I may suggest one, that is.”

He nodded, reaching to his pocket for his bag of coins, “Alright, then. I’ll have that one–”

“No, no,” the man shook his head, stopping him.

Looking back up, he found the hazel-eyed, kindly man presented the stick of fresh, steaming meat and vegetables to him further.

“Huh?”

“It’s on the house,” the local chef smiled.

“I can’t–”

“I insist. Please,” the man told him.

With no other choice, he smiled and graciously accepted the skewer of seasoned meat and colorful, grilled vegetables.

Holding it by his nose, he was taken into bliss by the rich fragrance it brought when even closer, making his stomach grumble in earnest desire.

It smells great, he thought.

As he glanced up, he could see the bushy-mustache man watching him eagerly, clearly wanting feedback on the item as he obliged–bringing it near his mouth and taking a hefty bite.

Though the sounds of behemoth meat sounded like something tough and hard to chew, it was surprisingly tender. It melted into his mouth as he chewed it, with each clamp of his teeth squeezing in a burst of rich flavor.

As he swallowed, he looked forward at the kind, older gentleman who watched him earnestly.

“How is it?” The man asked.

“…Yummy!” He said.

It was a pure proclamation of his honest thoughts; if there was one word that persisted in his mind when eating that grilled skewer, it was “yummy.”

The genuine response he gave seemed to elate the man who crafted such a delectable item of nourishment, who laughed, “Glad to hear it!”

He still felt bad about not paying, but after another minute of back-and-forth, he finally accepted it and went on his way, snacking on the surprisingly large serving that the “sword” came with as he walked the streets of Elsia.

There were street performers putting on shows, as well–if the city wasn’t energetic enough as is. He stopped for a bit and watched as he ate his skewer, watching a man in a colorful jumpsuit with clown makeup, juggling flaming swords with utter finesse all while laughing.

“Ho-he! Ho-he! Ho-he!”

The orange-haired clown had quite the unique laugh, in that it sounded like a dying animal as the eccentric performer flipped around, dancing as he continued juggling the fire-engulfed swords without a care in the world.

As he glanced around, he saw a couple people looking on, though they seemed to be on the older side and not adventurers, which seemed about right.

Something like this just wasn’t that appealing to him as he tried to find some enjoyment in it while munching on his free skewer.

…This would be fun to watch back on Earth, no doubt, but…I don’t know–this world has freaking magic, you know? You’ve gotta kick it up a notch or two, Mr. Clown! He thought.

As he moved on and finished his skewer, he tossed it into an empty crate that was sitting on the edge of an alleyway, wandering and looking around as he decided where to go next.

Alright…now that I’m full–it’s time to figure out if there are any brothels around here!…Specifically: “cat girl brothels”! He thought.

Though it was easier said than done to track down one specific type of establishment in the vast, diverse city of Elsia, especially when it was filled to the brim with people and he had no clue as to where anything was in the first place.

As he marched on, he felt a chill run down his back–the feeling of somebody watching him intently.

…Huh? He thought.

Glancing back–he saw it, but just for a brief moment: her.

Golden hair, a blue scarf, and unmistakable, sapphire eyes–flashing by with swiftness that took him by surprise.

It’s her…! He realized.

The first instinct in his mind was protecting his bag of coins, but it was too late–the girl was simply faster than him.