Chương 38: Chapter 36 – Wixx Harem? *gag*

gag They made it back to the guildhall without much trouble, but the closer they got, the more noticeable Chelsea became. It wasn't just the horns… or the wings… Or even the fact that she was a demon walking casually through a crowded city. It was the blood. Not fresh anymore, but still there in streaks and stains along her clothes, her arms, the edges of her hairline. Enough that people noticed. Enough that conversations dipped as she passed. Some stepped aside out of caution. Others out of curiosity.

Most people just stared. Chelsea noticed. Of course she did. But she didn't shrink from it. If anything, she walked a little straighter, like she had decided this was just part of her now. They pushed through the doors and into the guildhall, where the noise hit them all at once. Conversations, laughter, arguments, the clatter of mugs and boots. Fiona led them to the bulletin boards. Rows and rows of them, each packed tight with requests. Parchment layered over parchment, pinned and repinned until the edges curled.

Sections were loosely organized by rank, though it looked like people had ignored that system more than once. Chelsea stepped up with a small smile.

"Alright, point at them, and I'll read it to you." Bea didn't hesitate.

"This one." Chelsea leaned in slightly, scanning the page.

"Clear out minor troll infestation. Reward is three gold." Bea nodded, already weighing it in her head. Risk versus payout. Time versus effort. Fiona stepped up beside her, pointing at another.

"This?" Chelsea shifted her focus.

"Mature saprol outbreak. Fire magic required. Also three gold." She paused, glancing back.

"What's a saprol?" Edgar answered without missing a beat.

"Inferior tree spirits. They consume much of the water in an area, then die. Horrible for crops." Chelsea made a face.

"So they're just… thirsty little disasters."

"More or less," Edgar said. Chelsea looked back at the board, then at the others.

"Better question is, someone charges you to read these? There's practically nothing to them." Edgar folded his hands neatly.

"Where there's a problem, if someone has the only solution, it is guaranteed they will make money off of it." Chelsea huffed softly.

"That feels illegal."

"No," Bea said.

"Just annoying." Dewey stepped forward, pointing carefully at a lower section.

"This one?" Chelsea followed his finger and immediately straightened a bit.

"This one is in the E rank section," she said.

"We are allowed to accept jobs up to one rank higher than our own," Bea clarified.

"Ah." Chelsea leaned in closer.

"This one says, 'cellar rat ecstermination.' And it's for seventy-five silver." Fiona leaned over her shoulder, squinting.

"Really? You can read that word?"

"Extermination? Yeah," Chelsea replied.

"I mean, they misspelled it. They used C S instead of an X, but I get what they were going for." Fiona blinked at the page like it had personally offended her.

"It's so many letters. I don't know how you do it." Chelsea smiled, a little softer this time.

"I'm starting to teach the others. If you stick around, hint hint," she nudged Fiona's arm with her elbow, "I'll be happy to teach you too." Fiona looked down at the spot she was nudged, then back up at Chelsea, completely serious.

"I don't know what that means." Chelsea had to bite back a laugh.

"Never mind. Any others?" Bea didn't miss a beat.

"What about this one?" Chelsea followed her finger and paused.

"A C rank request? Are you sure?"

"Shut up and just read it." Chelsea rolled her eyes, but leaned in anyway.

"Fine.

'Kill a necromancer cult.'" She blinked once, then looked back at them.

"Whoa, for eleven gold. Not bad." Bea rocked her head side to side, weighing it like she was tasting the idea.

"No. Actually, can you look for something that specifically requests a magic user or healer?" Chelsea perked up immediately.

"Oh, that's so much faster," she said, already turning back to the boards. Her eyes moved quickly, scanning line after line. The noise of the guildhall faded into the background as she filtered everything down to what mattered.

"This one, this one, and this one all request a magic user," she said, tapping each page in quick succession.

"This one needs an earth magic user and is paying seven; this one a fire user and nine gold. This one here they want a summoner, and another big one, it's paying thirteen." She turned around, expecting Bea to already be deciding. Instead, she found five people staring at her. Bea. Dewey. Fiona. And now two strangers who had edged a little closer without meaning to.

"You can read them all that fast!?" Fiona exclaimed in a hushed conspiratorial voice. The two men exchanged a glance, clearly tempted to ask for help, but neither of them stepped forward. Chelsea caught the hesitation. A demon. A demon covered in blood. Not worth the risk.

"Yeah," Chelsea said, brushing it off like it was nothing.

"Bea, chin off the floor. Which one suits you better? I'll tell you the other details." Bea blinked once, then snapped back into focus.

"Fire."

"Looks like another saprol request, but this one is for advanced saprols?" Chelsea said, eyes flicking back to confirm.

"Oh! Grab it for me," Bea replied instantly. Chelsea reached up, pulled the parchment free, and handed it over.

"Thanks. Hey, your boyfriend is staring at you again." Chelsea's eyes shifted without turning her head. The clerk. Right where she expected him. He reacted fast this time, but not sloppy. His gaze slid just off to the side like he had never been looking at her at all. Chelsea had to give him credit. That was smooth.

"Yup," she said under her breath.

"Sure was." Bea didn't even look.

"I'm off to start up this job. I'll see you back at the inn." She turned and started toward the counter. His counter. Chelsea's stomach dropped. Oh no. Was she about to do that? That thing? That horrible, embarrassing, life-ruining thing parents did? A vivid memory hit her out of nowhere. Standing in line. Her mom leaning over the counter at target, her smirk as she told the cute guy working at Target I thought he was hot. Chelsea physically shuddered, trying to shake it out of her system. Love this story?

Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work! No. No. Bea would not do that. Probably. Hopefully.

"Chelsea," Fiona said, pulling her back to the present.

"Can you do something like that for me?"

"Hmm?" Chelsea turned back. Fiona pointed toward the D-rank board.

"I'm looking for something with a few medium-strength enemies, if that makes sense. The money amount doesn't really matter." Chelsea nodded and stepped over with her.

"Uh, sure. Let's see." Her eyes moved again, slower this time, filtering for what Fiona wanted.

"Here is a cave bear den, this one is for a boga, oh, but it suggests shadow magic. This one is for a bunch of cultists. What the hell is a cockatrice?"

"Oh, that one. The cultists," Fiona said immediately, excitement creeping into her voice. Chelsea pulled the page down and handed it over.

"Thank you so much. You made this so much easier!" Chelsea smiled.

"Remember the hearts, please." Fiona grinned back, gave a quick wave, and headed off with her new job in hand. Chelsea watched her go for a second, then turned back to the last one standing.

"How about you, Dewey? Need any extra help?" Dewey looked at the boards, then at the jobs the others had taken, then back at the lower section.

"No. I think I will take the rat quest," he said with a sigh. Chelsea didn't let him stand there feeling like that for even a second. She wrapped both arms around his massive arm, hugging it like it was a tree trunk.

"Don't worry, you'll get to kill cock traces and chop cultists with your axe soon enough." Dewey looked down at her, and that big bearded smile spread across his face again.

"Thank you, little sister. I appreciate that." He reached over with his free hand and pulled the rat quest from the board. Chelsea gave his arm a squeeze, then patted his back.

"But uh, hey Dewey," she added, glancing up at him, "please don't bring me any rat hearts." That earned a laugh from him, deep and genuine, as they stepped away from the boards together. Chelsea ended up helping four more adventurers before she was done. Each one approached a little differently. One tried to act confident and failed halfway through the first sentence. Another stood three feet too far away and pointed instead of speaking.

The last two worked up the courage together, whispering to each other before one finally stepped forward. Chelsea read their requests without making a big deal of it. No teasing, no price, no attitude. Just quick, clear answers. It made it easier for the next person to step up. By the time she was done, she felt a quiet sort of satisfaction. Not from the attention. From being useful. She and Edgar slipped away soon after and returned to the inn.

Marie took one look at Chelsea and clucked her tongue, clearly torn between worry and disapproval at the state of her. She went straight for the bath. By the time she stepped back out into the room, her armor was spotless again, her skin clean, and her hair damp as she worked a brush through it.

"Hey, Edgar, what do you feel like?" she asked casually. He stared at her. Not at her. At the armor.

"How did you clean your armor too!?" Chelsea waved a hand with exaggerated laziness.

"Spooky demon magic. Now answer me. You're basically just a bunch of stuff with a ghost inside, right? Do you feel like a physical person?" He paused, clearly choosing his words.

"Feel free to touch. But be careful where you do. Remember who your sister is." Chelsea's hand had already started toward his chest. It stopped midair.

"Ah," she said, pulling it back slowly.

"Good point. In fact, a very good point. I think I'm good. I'll let the mystery linger."

"Wise," Edgar replied.

"Oh, Miss Chelsea," Marie called from down the hall. Chelsea turned just in time to see her approaching with a warm smile.

"Let me help you with that." She held out her hand for the brush. Chelsea handed it over without hesitation.

"Thank you so much." She turned around and stood still. The first stroke was gentle. Chelsea blinked. The second smoothed through a knot she hadn't even realized was there. Her shoulders relaxed without her meaning to. It took her a second to place the feeling. It reminded her of being small. Her mother's hurried hands, pulling and tugging, trying to get through it as fast as possible before rushing her out the door. The sting of it. The impatience. Then her father. Careful. Slow.

Stopping when he hit a tangle instead of forcing through it. Untangling it with his fingers first. Talking to her the whole time like it mattered. Marie brushed her hair like that. Soft. Patient. Like there was nowhere else she needed to be. Chelsea's throat tightened slightly. She blinked a few times, forcing the sting out of her eyes before it could turn into anything else.

"Thank you again, Marie," she said as she turned back around.

"It's no problem, hon," Marie replied.

"You two going to the market today?"

"We are going to the shopping district," Edgar said.

"But if I'm not mistaken, we must pass through the market to get there. Do you need us to pick something up for you?" Marie brightened.

"Oh, that's even better. My daughter runs a dress shop in town. Her name is Maggie. If you happen to stop in, let her know I sent you, and I bet she'll give you a better deal than the shops around her." Chelsea tried her best to remember her name. She repeated the name Maggie over and over in her head.

"I don't know that we were looking for a dress, but we will keep that in mind," Chelsea said.

"Well, if you do, this is the emblem for her store," Marie said, handing over a small square of paper. Chelsea looked down at it. A simple drawing of a dress, a needle, and thread laid across it.

"She's a licensed tailor, so if you rip any of your cloth equipment, she can repair the damage for you." Edgar made a quiet sound that was definitely the start of a laugh. Chelsea spoke quickly to cover it.

"We will definitely keep her in mind. Thank you for everything, Marie." Marie waved them off and disappeared into the bathroom. Chelsea turned back to Edgar.

"Are you ready to go?"

"I am," he said. They stepped back out into the street. They made a quick stop at the bank first. Chelsea made a withdrawal, asking for a mix of coins in different denominations. She wanted to be able to pay for things without handing over more than necessary. A few blocks later, the market opened up in front of them. Stalls lined both sides of the street. Bright fabrics, fresh produce, hanging cuts of meat, polished trinkets, tools, weapons. Voices overlapped as vendors called out their wares.

And, as always, eyes followed her. Chelsea ignored them.

"So, how long have you two been married?" she asked as they walked.

"About a year and a half," Edgar replied.

"Awww," she cooed, dragging the sound out just enough to be annoying. They passed a stand stacked with apples, polished to a shine. Chelsea's eyes lingered on them for a second. She thought about her apple math. She thought about testing it. To confirm if things could be equated to numbers of apples accurately. Then she looked away. Not worth it.

"You have to tell me how you met," she said, turning her attention back to Edgar. He let out a long sigh through the mask.

"It may not be what you're looking for when it comes to romance," he replied.

"In this family?" Chelsea scoffed.

"I'm sure Adriane would have murdered you if romance was involved, claiming it was a luxury."

"Yes," he said with a soft laugh.

"I and two other A-rankers assisted Adriane on a job. After we finished, we went back to the guild hall and Bea was there waiting for her sister." As they walked, the market slowly began to thin around them. The tightly packed stalls gave way to wider streets and sturdier storefronts. Chelsea still caught people staring every so often.

"She asked me a few questions about why I acted so mysterious all the time. From that point on, she became a bit…" He paused, clearly trying to choose the least dangerous wording possible.

"Obsessed?" Chelsea offered immediately.

"I'd say fascinated is a more polite term," he replied. Chelsea snorted.

"You're trying very hard not to insult your wife right now."

"She would stab me if I did."

"Fair." A couple carrying baskets stepped around them, giving Edgar's mask a nervous glance before hurrying on.

"She stalked you, didn't she?" Chelsea joked. Edgar sighed again.

"Huh, yeah. She did." Chelsea burst out laughing. The scary part was she had only been half joking.

"Oh my god. She actually stalked you."

"For roughly two months," Edgar answered calmly, as if discussing weather patterns.

"She thought I didn't notice."

"She underestimated the creepy mask man who literally doesn't sleep."

"Correct." Chelsea pressed a hand over her mouth, trying and failing to contain another laugh.

"Please tell me she was terrible at it."

"She once hid behind the same fruit cart for nearly an hour." Chelsea lost it completely at that.

"And you just let her?"

"At first, I was curious."

"That's somehow worse." He inclined his head slightly.

"Probably." They finally pushed through the busiest part of the market traffic. The sounds of haggling and shouting dulled a little behind them.

"She broke into my room one night," Edgar continued.

"She thought I'd be asleep, not knowing I don't sleep. I knew what she was up to." Chelsea could immediately picture it. Bea in all black. Probably crouch-walking dramatically for no reason.

"She broke into the dark room, and I trapped her inside with me." His tone remained perfectly even.

"She is The Silver Sword's little sister, so she was completely off-limits as far as killing or hurting. So, I just confronted her."

"And?"

"She claimed she wanted to see what was under my mask." Chelsea looked over at him immediately.

"I would be lying if I said I wasn't wondering the same thing."

"That makes two of you."

"Oh come on," Chelsea groaned.

"You can't say that and not elaborate."

"I can."

"That's evil."

"I am married to Beatrix Wixx. Evil is more of a gray area." Before Edgar could answer the actual question, a little girl wearing basically rags stumbled right in front of them. Chelsea reacted immediately, crouching down.

"Oh, are you okay?" The girl nodded quickly without looking up. Her hair hung in front of her face, messy and tangled. She pushed herself back to her feet with shaky hands.

"Nice try," Edgar's voice called from Chelsea's left. Chelsea blinked. A second ago he had been on her right. Now he stood beside her with one white-gloved hand wrapped around the wrist of a preteen boy. The boy's fingers were stretched toward Chelsea's pouch, only inches away. The kid jerked hard, trying to rip free. It did absolutely nothing.

"Ah," Chelsea said slowly as she stood back up.

"These are the pickpockets I was warned about." The little girl froze completely. Her eyes darted between the boy, Edgar, and Chelsea. She looked terrified. Not just scared of getting caught. Scared of them specifically. Chelsea suddenly became very aware of what they looked like together. A towering masked thing in pristine white clothing holding a struggling child. And beside him, a black-horned demon woman with nearly glowing red eyes.

"Demon queen," Edgar said in a low, sinister voice, "have you fed yet today?" The boy stopped struggling instantly. Chelsea stared at Edgar for half a second. Realizing he was trying to scare the kids.

"Oh, stop," she said.

"They are probably just hungry." She reached into her bag and dug around through the coins they had withdrawn earlier. After a moment she pulled out two silver pieces. The little girl's eyes widened.

"Let him go," Chelsea said. She held the money out toward the girl. The child hesitated like she thought it might be a trick. Slowly, carefully, she reached for the coins. Chelsea closed the remaining distance and pressed them into her hand.

"Take it." Edgar released the boy immediately. The kid stumbled backward so fast he nearly tripped over himself. He grabbed the little girl's wrist, and the two of them bolted into the nearest alley without a word. Chelsea watched them disappear.

"Your kindness is wasted on this world," Edgar said vaguely. Chelsea shook her head.

"I don't think so. I like to think their family is able to eat something tonight because of a simple kindness." Then she looked back up at him immediately.

"Now, what's under the mask?" Edgar let out a muffled laugh.

"There's actually nothing under it." Chelsea stared at him.

"No."

"Yes."

"That's so much creepier than having a face." They resumed walking through the shopping district, passing signs that hung above storefronts. A boot. A loaf of bread. A sword crossed with a hammer.

"Then where does your voice come from?" Chelsea asked.

"It obviously bounces off of your mask." The mask tilted toward her.

"Bea asked that same question. Am I about to have a harem of Wixx women?" He laughed softly again. Chelsea made an exaggerated disgusted face.

"First off, I'm still eighteen and you're thirty-seven. Gross. Second off, you're not exactly my type. The whole ghost possessing dirty laundry thing," she shuddered dramatically.

"So gross." She looks over at him "And third, just the word harem makes me want to gag."

"You eat literal human hearts and you're calling me gross?" he asked casually. Chelsea pointed at him and squinted.

"Touché, Edgar. Well played." A few more shops passed by before Chelsea spotted a hanging sign shaped like a knight's breastplate. Her eyes lit up.

"Oh, is that an armor shop?"

"Possibly," Edgar replied.

"Let's go see." Together, the demon girl and the living mask stepped toward the storefront as curious eyes followed them down the street.