“Little miss, are you from Eldron?”
The bearded man dropped two sugar cubes into his coffee and stirred them with a teaspoon.
The clinking of the cubes against the cup rang out.
The two men beside him leaned in, and all three sets of eyes fixed on Wei, though there was no malice in their gazes.
“That’s right.”
Wei picked up her coffee cup and blew on the steam rising from the rim.
Her white lashes drooped, looking especially long now that she had taken off her sunglasses.
Her lips touched the cup’s edge.
She took a small sip, then wrinkled her nose.
“So bitter.”
“Hahahaha!”
The bearded man laughed.
“Little miss isn’t used to black coffee, are you? Want some milk?”
“No, no. When in Rome, do as the Romans do.”
Wei set the cup down and cradled it in both hands, as if warming them.
The sleeve of her trench coat slid up slightly, revealing two sections of pale, abnormally thin wrists.
“You gentlemen are from the north, right? Urske?”
The bearded man raised an eyebrow.
“How did you know?”
“From the accent.”
Wei tilted her head, her short white hair brushing past the corner of her eye.
“When I was studying abroad in Osteria, there was a classmate from Urske. The way you roll your r’s—exactly like his.”
“Studying abroad?”
The crew-cut man beside him perked up.
“Osteria? On the Federation side?”
“That’s right. I spent two years there. It’s completely different from Eldron. Factories everywhere, smoke filling the sky, can’t see the stars at night.”
“I heard the Federation is pretty chaotic,” the crew-cut man said.
“Workers marching every day, banks closing one after another.”
“Tell me about it.”
Wei sighed.
“So Dad called me back. Said it wasn’t safe out there and told me to stay home and behave.”
Her tone carried just the right amount of complaint—like a noble’s daughter who’d been kept on a tight leash and finally managed to sneak out for some air.
Orlando stood half a step behind Wei, his hands folded over his apron, a stiff smile plastered on his face.
His legs were pressed together, knees slightly turned inward, the hem of his skirt hanging just above his knees.
He didn’t move.
“Lina.”
“What are you standing around for? Come pour some water.”
“…Yes, ma’am.”
That clear, feminine voice came from his throat.
He grabbed the coffee pot from the counter and walked over.
Bending down, he refilled their cups.
The weight of the fake breasts became especially obvious at this angle—the two lumps sagged downward, the straps digging into his shoulders, a little tight.
“Hey, your maid here is pretty good-looking,” the crew-cut man said.
“Of course.”
Wei propped her chin on her hand.
“When we hire maids, the first thing we look at is the face.”
Orlando’s hand trembled slightly as he poured.
A drop of coffee splashed outside the cup, landing on the checked tablecloth, forming a dark circle.
“Sorry.”
He said in a low voice.
That clear feminine voice sounded especially convincing when apologizing—soft and weak, making it hard to blame her.
“It’s fine, it’s fine.”
The bearded man waved generously.
Orlando straightened up and retreated to his spot behind Wei.
He folded his hands over his apron again, eyes fixed on the floor.
Wei chatted animatedly with the group.
From the factories of Osteria to the noble gossip of Eldron, from the Federation’s presidential election to the tea of the Wuling Cloud Dynasty.
Her pace was steady, neither fast nor slow.
She laughed occasionally, her short white hair swaying with the sound.
The shoulders of the northerners visibly relaxed.
Their coffee was almost gone.
Wei picked up her cup and fanned the steam with her hand.
The aroma of coffee dispersed into the air.
She took a small sip, then set the cup down.
“By the way.”
“What are you northern gentlemen doing in Eldron?”
The bearded man set his coffee cup down and wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.
“The Grand Duke ordered us…”
His voice was slurred, as if his tongue had been numbed by the coffee.
“Uh… said there were ruins around here… told us to find some…”
Their pupils dilated for an instant, then refocused, then dilated again.
“Find some… what was it…”
“Find… usable… things…”
His head lolled to the side, then snapped back, as if fighting off sleep.
“Alright.”
The third man—the thin, tall one—suddenly reached out and pressed down on the bearded man’s shoulder.
“Stop here for now.”
His voice wasn’t loud, but it was hard.
Not the roughness of a northern accent—it was wariness.
The faint sound of a blade being drawn.
He stared at Wei.
His pupils contracted deep in his eye sockets, as if he had caught a whiff of something wrong.
“You.”
The thin man pulled the bearded man and the crew-cut man away from Wei.
His palms clamped onto their shoulders, veins bulging on the backs of his hands.
“Who exactly are you?”
The air went still for a moment.
The bearded man shook his head, finally realizing something was off.
He looked down at his empty coffee cup, then back up at Wei.
The crew-cut man’s pupils shrank.
The coffee cup slipped from his hand, rolled half a turn on the table, spilling the remaining liquid onto the checked tablecloth.
The bearded man stood up.
The chair legs scraped across the wooden floor with a harsh screech.
“You—”
He took a deep breath.
“—who the hell are you?”
His voice was pressed down in his throat, like a beast growling.
Wei looked up.
Her red pupils met his fist.
She tilted her head, her short white hair sliding past the corner of her eye.
The corners of her mouth were still curved upward.
Five fingers spread open.
Pale, thin fingers that looked like they’d snap at the slightest touch.
That hand somehow caught the fist.
The muscles in the bearded man’s arm tensed violently.
His bicep bulged under his sleeve, like cast iron.
He pushed down.
Nothing moved.
That pale little hand held his fist motionless, like a stone holding a falling leaf.
“Oh.”
“A fist as big as a sandbag. No wonder you northerners are naturally built.”
She paused.
Her other hand set the coffee cup down on the table, the motion so light it made no sound.
“Not like me.”
She pulled her hand back from his fist and looked down at it.
Turned it over, then back again.
Pale.
Slender.
The knuckles were distinct, but it was so small it looked like a child’s.
“A little girl.”
Then she leaned back.
The hem of her trench coat traced a full circle in the air, the beige fabric spreading like wings.
Her gray beret flew off her head and landed on the booth’s cushion.
Her short white hair scattered in the air, the dark red tips glimmering under the light for an instant.
Her hands pushed off the floor, and then her whole body sprang up.
Her flats hit the wooden floor with a soft thud.
Knees slightly bent, center of gravity lowered.
The hem of her coat fell back down, hanging at her side.
The bearded man turned to face her.
His fist was still held in the same position as when she caught it.
“Come on.”
“Let’s have a go.”
The bearded man took a deep breath, his chest swelling like an enraged bull.
He stepped forward, charging at Wei.
The wooden floor groaned under his feet, each step as if he were trying to stomp through it.
The coffee cups on the tables clinked and rattled.
He threw a right punch—faster and harder than before, carrying his entire body weight.
His fist cut through the air with a whoosh.
Wei sidestepped.
The punch grazed the collar of her trench coat.
Her elbow came up and smashed into his chin.
The bearded man’s head snapped back.
A short, muffled grunt escaped his throat.
His body’s center of gravity began to tilt backward, but he didn’t fall yet.
Northerners’ build—they could take a hit and still stand.
He clenched his teeth, the muscles in his jaw tight as stone.
His left fist came around in a hook, aimed at Wei’s temple.
Wei ducked.
The left fist swept over her head, the wind it kicked up stirring her short white hair.
She braced one hand on the floor, twisted her body, and swept her right leg out.
The flat of her shoe struck his ankle precisely—not hitting the bone, but the tendon.
The bearded man’s left leg suddenly gave out.
His knee buckled, and his entire center of gravity collapsed.
His body fell backward like a wall being pushed over.
His back slammed into the edge of the booth’s table.
The coffee cup jumped, tipped over, and shattered on the floor.
The back of his head hit the cushion, his eyes rolling white for an instant.
Then he didn’t move.
Wei straightened up.
The hem of her coat fell back down, hanging at her side.
The café went silent.
Behind the counter, the bespectacled owner held a half-wiped cup in midair.
A half-drunk coffee sat on his table, still steaming.
The bell on the door swayed gently, letting out half a ding, then stopped.
Wei stood in place, sweeping her gaze over the three northerners on the floor.
The bearded man lay on his back on the booth, mouth open, snoring.
The crew-cut man sat against the wall, head lolled to one side, also asleep.
The thin man lay face-down on the floor, his cheek pressed against the wooden boards, breathing as steady as a baby’s.
She shoved her hands into her coat pockets and turned around.
Orlando was crouched under the table.
Hands over his head.
His dark brown wig was crooked, the lace headband dangling from his ear, about to fall off.
The hem of the maid dress spread across the floor like a black flower in full bloom.
Wei stared at him for a moment.
“Pfft.”
She covered her mouth.
Her shoulders shook.
“Hahahahahaha—”
Laughter exploded in the quiet café.
She doubled over, one hand gripping the edge of the table, the other clutching her stomach.
The belt of her trench coat hung down, trailing on the floor.
Her beret had long since disappeared somewhere.
Her short white hair was tousled at her cheeks, trembling with each laugh.
“What.”
She finally caught her breath, wiping the tears of laughter from the corner of her eye with the back of her hand.
“Scared already?”
Orlando looked up from under the table.
“Or is it—”
“You have more potential to be a girl than I do?”
Orlando crouched under the table, his skirt pooling around him, his fake breasts pressing against his knees.
“I—”
He shut his mouth.
Wei straightened up, brushed off the non-existent dust on her coat, and walked toward the door
She stopped at the entrance and glanced back at the owner, who had completely frozen behind the counter.
“For the coffee.”
She pulled a silver coin from her pocket and flicked it with her thumb.
The coin spun in the air a few times before landing with a clink on the counter.
It spun twice, then fell flat.
“Keep the change.”
The bell jingled.
She walked out.
Orlando crawled out from under the table.
His wig was crooked, his apron wrinkled, and a small coffee stain marked his skirt.
He held onto the table edge and stood up, his knees still a little weak.
He really had been scared.
Not because of an explosion—Wei hadn’t brought any bombs today, or at least she hadn’t pulled any out yet.
Three Urske men, each twice his size.
Even if they were just humans, not War Bears, northerners had that build.
Their forearms alone were thicker than his calves.
If he had to face those three alone—no wooden sword, wearing a maid dress, the fake breasts pulling at his shoulders—he would probably just run.
“You… what did you do to them?”
Looking at the three men sprawled on the floor, Orlando felt like something was off.
“Just added a little seasoning. Instead of interrogating them, might as well let them tell us themselves~”