Chương 39: Chapter 37 – Obligatory Shopping Trip

Chelsea and Edgar made their way through the flow of people toward the shop, weaving between adventurers, merchants, and shoppers carrying bags full of produce or supplies. The closer they got to the storefront, the more Chelsea noticed the metallic scent in the air. Chelsea wondered if they had like the whole anvil and hammer thing going on inside. The building itself looked sturdy compared to the prettier shops around it. Thick stone walls. Dark wood beams.

The wooden sign above the entrance had a hammered steel breastplate painted on it. Chelsea could already hear metal clanging somewhere deeper inside before they even stepped through the door. The shop was not especially crowded. A few adventurer-looking types wandered between weapon racks and armor stands, inspecting pieces with the sort of intensity people reserved for expensive purchases. One of them glanced toward the entrance and immediately stiffened in recognition at the sight of Chelsea.

His eyes widened slightly before he very deliberately looked away. Smart man. The hammering stopped.

"Welcome to Drunmers," a joyful voice called out. The owner's eyes flicked between Chelsea and Edgar as he appraised the pair.

"Can't say we get many demons and fae spirits in here. What can I do for you?" Chelsea immediately became distracted. The man was huge. Broad shoulders. Thick forearms. The kind of body that looked forged from years of hammering steel. His white shirt clung damply to him beneath a worn brown leather apron stained darker in spots from soot and sweat. But none of that mattered compared to the mustache. Chelsea stopped walking. It was magnificent.

The thing curled outward in perfect spirals on both sides like it belonged to a cartoon villain who specialized in whimsical crimes.

"I…" She paused, staring openly.

"First off, fantastic work on the mustache. It's so perfect." The man blinked once before placing a hand dramatically over his heart.

"And a polite demon at that." Chelsea gave a small curtsy.

"I have a bit of an odd request." She approached the counter and immediately noticed sweat rolled down the man's forehead. The nearby customers looked uncomfortable too, some fanning themselves absentmindedly while browsing. She leaned slightly toward Edgar.

"Is it hot in here?" she whispered.

"It is," he replied quietly.

"And what sort of odd request would that be, Miss…" the man prompted, dragging out the final word expectantly.

"Chelsea," she replied. The man dipped his head respectfully.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Chelsea. I am the owner and proprietor of this establishment, Arnold Drunmer."

"Do you happen to have any armor that is of high grade originally? Like higher than rare that has been broken and brought in to be repaired?" Arnold's thick eyebrows rose.

"That is indeed an odd request," he admitted.

"I have a couple of pieces in the back. May I ask what the reason is for this?" Chelsea leaned against the counter casually.

"A bit of an experiment. I have a strange demon ability that automatically repairs items while I'm wearing it, but when taking it off, it goes back to its broken state." She slipped the ring from her finger and held up the bent strip of ruined metal. Then she slid it back on. Instantly, the metal straightened and polished itself into a proper ring again. One of the nearby adventurers openly stared now.

"A neat ability for sure," Arnold said, clearly intrigued now instead of merely polite.

"Any reason you're looking for higher grade?"

"Well, I'm curious if there is a way of circumventing the level requirement of pieces. Any level can wear broken gear, but most gear has a level requirement to get anything from it." She lied. The blacksmith slowly nodded along as if the logic made sense to him.

"Interesting theory," he muttered.

"Stay here a moment." He disappeared into the back room. Chelsea folded her arms and tried to look patient. The truth was far less innocent than what she had told him. She did not care about level requirements nearly as much as she cared about her enhancement leveling again. She still remembered the notification after crashing into the ground while flying. The immediate growth and the increase in her stats. Every improvement she had gained came through the enhancement. Without it, she was still level one forever.

If she stopped progressing, she was screwed. Her fingers tapped lightly against her arm while she waited. Only a few seconds later, Arnold returned carrying a helmet in both hands. The thing looked expensive, even though it was damaged. Dark steel with silver trim. Elegant engravings carved along the sides. The forehead had been caved inward by something that had to be unbelievably powerful, leaving a brutal dent that nearly split the metal. Chelsea's eyes widened slightly.

"Oh," she breathed.

"That looks pretty."

"Sorry, this is the only one I have that is better than rare. It's a helmet, so unfortunately, because of your horns, it won't work," he explained.

"Actually, let me try the helmet," she said. The nearby customers had completely given up pretending not to listen. One man had drifted halfway across the room while examining the same shoulder guard for the last two minutes. Arnold looked uncertain for only a second before shrugging and handing the helmet over. Chelsea lifted it carefully. It was heavier than she expected. The inside padding smelled faintly of old sweat. She angled it toward her head, fully expecting it to catch on her horns.

Instead, it slid on perfectly. There were openings already built into the top of the helmet. Not crude holes either. Proper fitted channels shaped almost exactly for her horns. The shopkeeper's eyes widened. The remaining customer muttered, "No way." Then the notification appeared. The Perfect Outfit Effect 2: Tier 6 acquired. Chelsea had to contain herself. She wanted to scream and do a victory dance. There it was. That gorgeous little message. Chelsea figured it out. Well… not fully, but enough.

Higher rarity broken gear advanced the enhancement. That was the key. Her mind immediately started racing. If this jumped it to Tier 6, what would legendary equipment do? Mythic? Divine? Could she keep scaling forever? Could she brute-force her way into relevance despite being level one? Chelsea forced her expression to remain calm. Do not look excited. Do not look excited. She slowly removed the helmet. The massive dent immediately reappeared in the forehead with a grinding metallic crunch.

At the same time, the horn slots vanished from the top as though they had never existed. Arnold looked genuinely disappointed.

"Well, that was disappointing," Chelsea said casually while internally freaking out.

"That was incredible," the shopkeeper corrected immediately. One of the patrons nodded in agreement.

"I watched the metal reshape itself." Chelsea gave a modest shrug like it was not potentially life-changing information.

"Hey, question. Would you mind if I come by from time to time to try on broken gear? I'm sure there's something to this theory. I just have to figure it out. I'll be happy to pay you for your time."

"Of course," Arnold replied immediately.

"It might drive up business having a beautiful oddity such as yourself frequenting the store." Chelsea smiled politely.

"You're too kind." She leaned on the counter slightly.

"Can you happen to show me any mail of common quality? Hoping for something with either Dexterity or strength, or maybe both? Is that even possible? I've never seen anything common with two attributes." Arnold tilted his head and furrowed his brows in confusion.

"You'll have to forgive her," Edgar said from behind.

"She has grown up in more of a scholarly setting. She is just trying out adventuring for the first time." The blacksmith's expression shifted instantly from confusion to understanding.

"That makes so much sense then," he said with a nod.

"Mail will never come with Dexterity. It's almost like asking for a sword that shoots arrows." Chelsea opened her mouth, then closed it again. So arrow shooting swords are also off the table. Got it.

"But," he continued thoughtfully, rubbing at his curled mustache, "you could go to an enchanter and get a minor Dexterity boost added. The amount usually wouldn't justify the cost though." He paused.

"And only certain armor pieces can even accept that enchantment." He had drifted into muttering to himself by the end, clearly sorting through years of trade knowledge in his head.

"Oh," Chelsea said quietly. She suddenly felt embarrassingly out of her depth.

"Chelsea, if I may," Edgar interrupted before she could spiral too hard into self-inflicted humiliation.

"What is this armor for? What is your goal with it?"

"To boost my spearmanship? If that's the right word." She looked between them.

"What attributes would help best with working with my spear?"

"Strength," Edgar, Arnold, and the remaining single patron all answered simultaneously. Chelsea slowly turned toward the other customer. The man immediately pretended to become fascinated with a nearby breastplate.

"Mhm," Chelsea nodded suspiciously.

"Very subtle." The man coughed awkwardly.

"Mail with strength then," she decided. Arnold moved through the shop gathering pieces from various racks and shelves. Occasionally he would hold something up toward Chelsea, reconsider, then place it back.

"Too bulky."

"Too restrictive."

"That one would chafe." Chelsea blinked.

"You can tell that by looking at it?"

"Miss Chelsea," Arnold said seriously, "bad armor gets people killed."

"Huh. Fair." Finally he returned with several pieces stacked in his arms and laid them across the counter one by one. A chain shirt reinforced with leather straps. A set of dark bracers with steel plating. Layered mail leggings. A fitted mail gorget. A single shoulder piece that looked slightly asymmetrical but practical.

"Feel free to try any of them on," he said proudly. Chelsea looked over the collection with growing excitement.

"Before I do, how much do all of these cost together?" she asked. Arnold glanced down at the pile, mentally tallying things up.

"I could do three gold for the lot."

"Sold." Edgar's mask turned slightly toward her. The remaining customer nearly choked. Chelsea reached into her bag, pulled out three gleaming gold coins, and held them out without hesitation.

"Miss, uh, Chelsea. Please don't take offense to this, I understand you are new to adventuring, it's typical to try on the armor prior to purchase. And… to haggle."

"No need. I trust your eye. Seriously." She wiggled the hand with the money in it insistently.

"And I'm paying for your expertise and time for letting me try on the broken helmet." Arnold stared at her for a long second before sighing in surrender.

"OK. This has been the most unusual transaction this week."

"Just this week?" Edgar asked dryly.

"Oh yeah," Arnold replied immediately.

"The stories this shop could tell." Chelsea grinned while stuffing the various armor pieces into her bag one after another. The bag swallowed every piece despite looking far too small to hold them all. The blacksmith looked down at the bag. Then back up at Chelsea. Then back down again.

"Not even going to ask about how many slots." He shook his head with a laugh.

"I hope to see you again, Miss Chelsea."

"You absolutely will," she replied cheerfully and gave him a curtsy. The two left the shop and stepped back into the crowded street. The warmth of the afternoon sun mixed with the smells of fresh bread, spices, livestock, and smoke drifting through the district. People still looked at Chelsea when they passed, though fewer were outright staring now. Some recognized her from the guildhall. Others just noticed the horns, wings, and unnatural beauty and decided that was enough reason to move out of the way.

Chelsea honestly preferred the people who just stared. At least they were honest about it. They wandered without much direction for a while, drifting through the streets while chatting idly. Chelsea pointed out strange foods she wanted to try later. Edgar explained the purpose of various shops they passed. At one point she became fascinated by a stand selling brightly colored candies until Edgar gently reminded her that unless they sold organ flavored ones, she wouldn't be able to eat them.

Eventually the emblem Marie had given them came into view hanging above a storefront window. The painted dress and oversized needle matched the paper exactly.

"Chelsea, I've been thinking about something," Edgar said as they approached.

"Oh no. That's usually dangerous. How much is it going to cost me?"

"Adriane said something the other day about you having the 'Attract' demon skill. Is that true?"

"Yeah." Chelsea grimaced slightly.

"I haven't ever used it though. Honestly, I've been terrified to do anything with any of those skills. I actually haven't even looked at what it does. I assume it just makes me more attractive? It's why people stare?""'Attract' is a passive skill. You've probably been using it and not noticed." He paused while a man carrying crates hurried across their path.

"I don't know the exact details, but it has something to do with increasing Charisma when speaking to the other gender." Chelsea blinked.

"That explains so much, actually."

"It might be worth it to pick up a dress and some certain pieces of jewelry," Edgar continued.

"Something that increases Charisma. It's not an attribute adventurers worry about much, but you seem to find yourself talking to powerful people a lot."

"That… Yeah. That makes a lot of sense." She glanced toward the dress shop ahead.

"And dresses give Charisma?"

"I believe so. If the tailor is skilled enough." This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Chelsea stared at the shop another moment.

"Then let's go to the dress shop. I can't believe you're talking me into buying a dress," she joked. Edgar chose not to respond. They reached the storefront just as a wealthy-looking older woman exited carrying herself with the confidence of someone used to expensive things. A skinny young man followed behind her, arms loaded down with four large dress boxes stacked precariously to his chin. Chelsea slipped through the door before it could close fully, Edgar entering silently behind her without touching it.

"Hello th…" a young woman behind the counter began automatically before freezing in place.

"A demon!?" Chelsea immediately sighed internally. There it is. Chelsea pasted on her most charming smile anyway.

"Yes, hello." The woman blinked rapidly.

"Are you the younger sister to the Silver Sword!?" she nearly shouted. Chelsea noticed the resemblance instantly now that she was looking properly. Same cheeks. Same nose. Same expressive eyes as Marie. Chelsea nodded slowly.

"And that makes you Marie's daughter?"

"You know my mother's name!?" The woman pressed both hands to her chest.

"Oh goodness, of course you do. You're staying at her inn, but you remembered it. Oh, umm, what… err…" She looked like her own brain was fighting her.

"How can I be help you… umm, how can I help you?" Chelsea glanced back toward Edgar, who simply shrugged as if to say 'you deal with this now.'

"I'm looking for a dress."

"In my shop!?" the woman squeaked.

"I mean, yes. Please. Take what… whatever you want!" Chelsea's eyebrows pulled together.

"I'm not trying to rob you, ma'am. Why are you so worked up?" She tilted her head slightly.

"Is it because I'm a demon?" The woman looked horrified at the implication and immediately began waving both hands frantically in front of herself.

"No, no, no, no. That's not it at all. I am Adriane Wixx's biggest devotee. The stories of her bravery and adventures are enough to… well, I don't have to tell you!"

"Ah!" Chelsea said as realization hit her.

"You're an Adriane superfan." The woman's face turned bright red.

"I wouldn't use those exact words but…" She looked away awkwardly.

"Maybe a little." Chelsea glanced back at Edgar.

"This is what being famous must feel like." He gave a small shrug.

"Adriane attracts strange people." Silence lingered for a second too long before Chelsea awkwardly clapped her hands together.

"So, umm, can you help me find a dress?"

"Oh, yes, of course." The woman immediately straightened herself out professionally before her eyes flicked uneasily toward Edgar's mask again.

"Brother-in-law," Chelsea explained immediately. The woman's eyes widened even more somehow.

"Other sister. Adriane is still single. Gods help whoever she marries." Edgar nudged the back of Chelsea's head lightly with two gloved fingers. Chelsea just grinned. Maggie finally seemed to regain enough composure to slip fully into work mode. She circled Chelsea slowly, studying her frame, wings, posture, and proportions with the terrifying intensity unique to tailors.

"So, do you know the style you're looking for? I will need to alter it to accommodate your, uh…" She hesitated delicately.

"Wings and tail," Chelsea supplied for her.

"And no need. Some sort of weird demon magic makes things I wear accommodate them." Maggie blinked once.

"That sounds wildly unfair."

"It really is," Chelsea admitted happily.

"As for style, that's where you come in. Any idea what would look good on me and gives Charisma?" Maggie looked almost offended by the question.

"Of course." She tapped a finger thoughtfully against her chin.

"You are interested in pieces that boost Charisma? What is your level? I can start there." Chelsea immediately froze.

"I, umm…" She looked back at Edgar. His mask slowly shook side to side. Right. Secret level thing.

"I'm not allowed to tell anyone my level."

"Oh." Maggie looked genuinely surprised.

"May I ask why not? You don't have to tell me that either. I'm sorry for prying."

"Adriane said I'm not allowed to tell anyone my level. Family stuff."

"Of course, of course," Maggie said rapidly, already nodding like this somehow made complete sense. She tapped the side of her forehead knowingly.

"It only makes sense to keep the levels of those she's closest to a secret." Chelsea paused. Does that make sense? Actually… maybe it does. Adriane was famous enough people might absolutely target weaker family members if they knew too much. Maggie disappeared into the maze of clothing racks while muttering excitedly to herself.

"I can't believe I'm helping The Silver Sword's sister."

"My name is Chelsea, by the way," she called after her.

"Of course!" Maggie's voice echoed somewhere deeper in the shop.

"I'm Maggie!" There was the sound of hangers scraping rapidly across metal rods followed by fabric rustling at dangerous speeds. Then Maggie suddenly burst out from the rack directly beside Chelsea. Both Chelsea and Edgar startled violently. Chelsea nearly flared her wings. Edgar reached for his belt holding his daggers.

"Gods above, you move quietly," Edgar whispered.

"You appeared from the clothing void," Chelsea shot back. Maggie laughed quietly beside them. Maggie gestured hurriedly toward the back of the store.

"Please follow me to the dressing room." She pointed toward a nearby cushioned chair.

"Please, sir, feel free to have a seat and wait."

"That's OK," Edgar replied.

"Adriane is off on a mission toppling a government or slaying a dragon. Whatever she does. Edgar is on security detail while she's gone."

"A… dragon?" Maggie squeaked. Chelsea laughed while following her toward the changing rooms.

"I don't know. She could just be playing guard to some foreign dignitary. Not quite as exciting."

"You say that like slaying dragons is normal," Maggie muttered under her breath.

"For Adriane?" Chelsea shrugged.

"Honestly, it probably is."

"Ah." Maggie nodded enthusiastically and gestured for them to follow her deeper into the shop. The further back they went, the fancier the dresses became. Chelsea passed racks full of flowing fabrics in colors she did not even know the names for. Pale blues that shifted silver in the light. Deep greens with embroidered vines stitched into them. One black dress sparkled faintly like it had tiny stars sewn into the fabric.

"So, are you all just passing through Junstruce?" Maggie asked while weaving between racks.

"Oh, no, we are making this our home. At least for the time being." Maggie immediately turned around to walk backward while staring at Chelsea excitedly.

"Please tell me you're not joking." She promptly walked directly into a rack of blue dresses. The entire thing tilted dangerously. Maggie yelped and caught it before it could collapse. Chelsea bit the inside of her cheek to avoid laughing.

"No," she said.

"We aren't going to stay at the inn the whole time, but for now, your mom has our business."

"Oh, Miss Chelsea Wixx, you must come to our tea social." Maggie clapped her hands together excitedly.

"My friends and I get dressed up, sample different teas and little fancy cakes, and gossip. We would be thrilled to have you."

"You would fit right in," Edgar said with a snort from behind them. Chelsea shot him a side glare.

"I'm not saying no, but just know my diet is very different."

"You can't eat cakes?" Maggie asked with genuine concern. Chelsea almost laughed at how tragic Maggie seemed to find that possibility.

"Umm, no," Chelsea admitted awkwardly.

"Or tea."

"We can make different arrangements," Maggie said immediately.

"It would be fun to try food from other cultures. What do you eat?" Chelsea's face immediately warmed. Oh no. Edgar, meanwhile, had started quietly laughing behind her. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"She eats hearts," he said helpfully.

"Human hearts are her favorite."

"Edgar!"

"Human hearts?" Maggie's complexion went pale almost instantly.

"And other organs too," Chelsea added quickly before this somehow became worse.

"It's not just human. Horse, pig, goat eyes are a favorite too."

"I, uh…" Maggie visibly struggled for footing in the conversation now.

"Where, umm… where do you get… the human hearts?" Chelsea threw both hands up immediately.

"Oh no, no. I'm sorry. They are from a group of bandits who attacked us. I would never blindly kill people for food. No, please don't think that." Maggie released a slow breath.

"Oh. That's a relief." Chelsea blinked. That was the concern she focused on?

"I can't say I could convince the other girls to try those," Maggie admitted nervously with a small polite forced laugh.

"I wouldn't expect them to." Chelsea rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly.

"I know it's gross. But everything else just tastes so… blech." She stuck her tongue out slightly to emphasize the point. To her surprise, Maggie laughed.

"Well, that's certainly the most unique dietary restriction I've ever heard." The store owner "Back to the task at hand." Maggie swept aside a curtain dramatically.

"Here we are." The dressing area was small but cozy. A standing mirror occupied one side while soft lantern light gave the space a warm glow. Three dresses hung carefully from a wooden peg on the wall.

"Sir, I am aware you are on secur…"

"I will wait out here," Edgar interrupted immediately.

"Ok, very good," Maggie replied.

"These three dresses are of common quality. They give the smallest amount of Charisma in the store while still being something you would want to wear." Chelsea stepped into the dressing area and pulled the curtain closed behind her. The little room suddenly felt much quieter without Maggie's constant excitement filling the space. She peeled off her battered clothes and stared down at them for a second. Gods, those things were ruined. Bloodstains. Cuts. Burn marks.

Random tears from wings, claws, and general Chelsea-related violence. She really had gone from second in her high-school class to feral demon adventurer remarkably fast. She grabbed the first dress and slipped it on. It was white. Very very very white and very frilly. Chelsea stared at herself in the mirror.

"Oh no," she muttered immediately. The dress fit surprisingly well. The fabric shifted naturally around her wings and tail, openings forming on their own as the enchantment adapted to her body. The neckline was soft and elegant, and the sleeves puffed slightly around the shoulders. She looked like she was about to marry a prince against her will in a fantasy romance novel. Chelsea opened the curtain. Maggie gasped dramatically.

"Oh, you look stunning!"

"I look abducted," Chelsea replied immediately. Edgar snorted from somewhere outside the dressing area. Maggie pressed a hand over her mouth trying not to laugh.

"It does fit perfectly though." Chelsea glanced down at herself once more before shaking her head.

"Too wedding-ish." Back behind the curtain she went. The second dress was royal blue with silver trim. It hugged her waist more tightly and flowed smoother around her hips. Less princess. More noblewoman attending a dance. Chelsea stepped out again. Maggie immediately clasped her hands together.

"That color looks incredible with your eyes." Chelsea tilted her head at the mirror nearby. The dress was beautiful. But...

"This feels very prom."

"What is a prom?" Maggie asked.

"I honestly don't know how to explain it without sounding insane." Back into the dressing room she went. Then she saw the third dress. The moment she touched it, she already knew. Oh. Oh this was dangerous. She slipped it on slowly. The fabric hugged her body perfectly without feeling restrictive. The corset was already partially laced and adjusted itself comfortably around her waist as though tailored specifically for her. Long red sleeves tapered into black cuffs that fit tightly against her wrists.

The neckline dipped low enough to show cleavage without crossing into 'cmon there are kids here' territory. Black lace framed the red bodice beautifully, drawing the eye naturally upward. The skirt itself was layered, rich crimson over black lace beneath, with a slit running high enough along the side to reveal flashes of leg when she moved. Chelsea stared at herself in the mirror. She looked like a villainess. Not the cackling evil kind.

The terrifyingly beautiful kind that manipulated kingdoms while sitting on a throne with crossed legs. The kind that ruined men emotionally for sport. She loved it immediately.

"Oh," she whispered to herself.

"This is absolutely my dress." Her wings flexed slightly behind her as confidence settled into her posture naturally. Even the way she stood changed. Chelsea pushed the curtain aside and stepped out. Maggie inhaled sharply. Edgar actually stopped moving. Maggie opened her mouth to begin another round of excited praise, but Chelsea held up a hand first.

"This is my dress." She smoothed her hands along the skirt.

"How much do I owe you?"

"Oh, you like it?" Maggie asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

"I love it." Chelsea looked down at herself again.

"Where can I find shoes to match it?" Maggie practically lit up.

"Oh! Wait here." She hurried toward a shelf and returned carrying a box.

"I have some shoes I typically pair with black dresses." She opened the lid and revealed a pair of black flats with subtle silver detailing worked into the sides.

"Do you know what size you are?" Maggie asked before her eyes drifted toward Chelsea's discarded clothes lying near the changing area. Chelsea followed her gaze. The leather outfit looked less like clothing and more like evidence from a violent accident.

"Uh, can we not talk about that? I sometimes get frustrated taking clothes off and…" She showed off her claws by lightly flexing her fingertips. She quickly scooped the ruined clothes up and shoved them into her pouch.

"And no, I don't know my shoe size." Chelsea bent down to try the shoes on and immediately paused. Oh these were incredible. They were soft. Comfortable. Flexible. No pinching. No stiffness.

"These might actually be the greatest invention in this world," she announced. Maggie beamed proudly.

"How much for everything?" Chelsea asked.

"Would one gold be asking too much?" Maggie asked nervously.

"That dress is from…"

"Nope. One gold sounds reasonable to me."

"Really?" Maggie blinked rapidly. Edgar made a choking sound behind them that suspiciously resembled suppressed laughter.

"Yes, really," Chelsea replied while holding out the gold. Maggie accepted the coin carefully like she expected Chelsea to change her mind halfway through.

"Okay. And if you get frustrated with it when taking it off, please come back, and I will do my best to repair it."

"Oh, that is so kind," Chelsea said sincerely.

"I hope to see you again soon. I will tell your mother you said hi." Maggie nodded enthusiastically while still staring at the dress like she could not believe someone was actually wearing it out of her shop. Chelsea and Edgar exited back into the street. A few pedestrians immediately turned to stare. Chelsea honestly could not blame them this time.

"So," she asked while smoothing down the front of the dress proudly, "anything you need to look for while we're here?"

"No." Edgar's mask tilted slightly toward her.

"Chelsea, did you have another question for Maggie?" That was oddly specific. She frowned up at him thoughtfully.

"I don't think so," she admitted.

"Think of one and head back in. I will come get you in a moment," he said simply. Chelsea stared at him.

"You are being incredibly suspicious right now."

"Just go back inside." He said in his normal tone. She did as he told her, though she still had absolutely no clue what Edgar was up to. Chelsea slipped quietly back through the door, carefully catching it before the bell overhead could jingle. The shop felt different now that the excitement from earlier had faded. Softer. Quieter.

"Maggie?" she called gently. No answer. Chelsea wandered deeper between the racks of dresses, brushing her fingers along fabrics as she went. Silks. Velvet. Lace. Some of these dresses looked fit for royalty. As she searched, she finally came up with the question Edgar apparently thought she needed. Then she heard crying. Chelsea froze. The sound was muffled and uneven, coming from somewhere behind the dressing area.

She followed it carefully until she noticed a small curtain partially drawn aside beside the fitting rooms. Behind it sat a real workspace. Bolts of fabric were stacked in unstable towers. Spools of thread littered the floor and tables. Half-finished dresses hung from mannequins near the walls. Pins, chalk, measuring ribbon, and scraps of cloth covered nearly every available surface. And at the far end of the room sat Maggie.

The seamstress had her face buried in her arms atop a long wooden table, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. Chelsea didn't even hesitate. She crossed the room quickly and crouched beside her.

"Maggie? Are you okay?" The woman nearly launched herself out of the chair in fright.

"M-Miss Chelsea…" Her breath caught hard in her throat. Without really thinking about it, Chelsea wrapped her arms around her the same way Adriane had held her that first horrible night after the summoning. Maggie immediately went stiff and rigid. Chelsea slowly loosened her hold and leaned back enough to see her face.

"What is it? Did someone hurt you?" Maggie stayed silent for several seconds, trembling slightly. Chelsea frowned.

"Maggie? What is it?"

"Miss Chelsea…" Maggie tried to steady her breathing.

"I'm so sorry." She covered part of her face with one hand.

"Please don't take…" Her breath hitched again.

"Don't take offense." Chelsea blinked in confusion.

"What is it?"

"You terrify me," Maggie admitted through tears.

"But at the same time, you're so kind." Chelsea's expression softened immediately. Oh. Oh no.

"Hey now. That's okay." Her voice became gentler.

"Demons are scary. I get it." Slowly, Chelsea reached over and took Maggie's shaking hand.

"Here." She guided it carefully toward one of her horns.

"Touch wherever you think is scary. I was terrified of snakes until I touched one. I used to think they were slimy. They are just smooth and scaly." She giggled, trying to sound charming. Maggie stared at her uncertainly.

"Oh, but don't touch my teeth," Chelsea added quickly.

"Very sharp. Oh, and the nails too." She wiggled her clawed fingers with a little grin. That finally earned a tiny, watery laugh. For the next few minutes, Maggie cautiously examined her like someone trying to convince herself a wolf wouldn't bite. She touched one horn first. Then one wing and then the tail when Chelsea offered. Eventually, some of the fear started melting out of her shoulders.

"See?" Chelsea smiled.

"Not so scary." Maggie sniffled and wiped at her eyes.

"Do you actually eat people?" Chelsea made a face.

"I, uh… yeah. Yeah, I do." She rubbed awkwardly at the back of her neck.

"But let me explain." Maggie listened carefully.

"The people I eat are the worst of the worst. The last pack of bandits attacked our group, and Adriane made me go fight all twenty-three alone. I guess I got a bit carried away." She caught herself. A bit carried away was maybe the understatement of the century.

"But if I was a normal human girl, alone. The things they would have done to me… I don't want to think about it. They were what I think of when I think of pure evil. And that's who I am OK with eating."

"I would never hurt anyone who was as nice as you. Like, ever." Chelsea smiled warmly.

"You're so sweet. Probably too sweet. You probably taste like pure sugar." Maggie stared at her for one horrified second before realizing it was a joke. A tiny smile finally appeared.

"There we go," Chelsea said triumphantly.

"That's better."

"I'm sorry," Maggie admitted quietly.

"I was holding it together until your brother-in-law said you eat people's hearts." Chelsea groaned loudly.

"My family is a bit, uh…" She paused, trying to find wording that wouldn't make them sound clinically insane.

"They're just a lot." That honestly covered most of it.

"They find humor in things like not telling me when I have blood on my chin." Chelsea immediately winced.

"Oh, sorry. Too much." Maggie made a slightly sick face.

"My point is," Chelsea continued quickly, "our lives as adventurers are filled with violence and darkness constantly. My family copes by finding humor in discomfort. Usually other people's discomfort. Usually mine." She giggled again.

"That makes sense," Maggie admitted after a moment. Chelsea reached forward and grabbed both her hands dramatically.

"Are we good? Not afraid of the scary Wixx demon anymore?" Maggie looked at her for a long moment before shaking her head.

"No. Not scary." She sniffed once more.

"We're good now. Thank you for this. It helped so much." Chelsea smiled brightly. Then Maggie's brows furrowed.

"Wait." She tilted her head.

"Why did you come back in? Did you need something else?"

"Actually, yes." Chelsea nodded seriously.

"Do you know where I can buy some cheese?"