Illya pulled Fyar’s hand, leading him away from the rowdy arena. They entered a more crowded street, moving with the flow of people.
The place was packed with dozens of wooden stalls with striped awnings on both sides. Vendors shouted out their wares.
The air was heavy and warm. Grill smoke billowed, carrying the aroma of sweet foods like chocolate, toasted bread, and fatty grilled meat. Some stalls were even selling hunted monster meat. The smoke was slightly different. It made Fyar curious about the taste.
Illya acted as the guide. She pulled Fyar past the ordinary satay and grilled meat stalls.
Fyar pointed to one of the stalls selling monster meat. "Illya, it looks like that..."
But Illya didn’t hear him. Her eyes were focused, scanning the line of stalls, searching for something specific.
"Not this one. Not this one," she muttered. "Ah, there it is!"
She led him to a small, slightly hidden stall run by an old woman. The stall sold only one thing: small, bright purple tarts.
"Two Mana-Berry Tarts, please!" Illya said enthusiastically.
"Miss Illya? How are you?" the old woman said, her voice raspy, as she prepared their order.
"I’m doing well," Illya replied softly. She handed the old woman a few silver coins.
"Enjoying the festival, are we? With..." the woman said as she took the coins. Her eyes then fell on Fyar, who was holding Illya’s hand.
"Oh, who is this handsome man beside you, Illya?"
Illya’s ears turned a little red at the question. She answered with a stammer, holding back a small smile, "That... is my—"
"I am her future husband," Fyar answered loudly.
"Future husband?" The woman looked a little startled.
Fyar nodded. "Correct." He lifted Illya’s hand and kissed the back of it.
"Husband," Fyar affirmed.
Meanwhile, Illya looked embarrassed. She stared at the ground.
"Y... yes." Illya nodded slowly. "He is my future husband."
The old woman chuckled softly. "Hmm, is that so." She then handed them their order. "Enjoy your youth, you two~."
They ate as they walked. Fyar bit into the tart.
A unique sweetness like grapes mixed with chocolate immediately hit his tongue. The tart also left a pleasant, warm sensation in his stomach, restoring a bit of his lost stamina.
"This... is really good. What is it made of?" Fyar asked.
Illya smiled proudly. ", that tart is only available during the festival. The recipe is quite secret. I wait all year for it. Very delicious, isn’t it?"
"Very," Fyar agreed, finishing his tart in two bites.
Fyar smiled gently and said in a calm tone, "Your taste is truly unrivaled, my beautiful guide."
Illya giggled. "Thank you for the compliment, my sweet tourist."
After their tarts were finished, they walked more casually. Illya linked her arm through Fyar’s, looking around at the sights.
Illya suddenly stopped. Her eyes were fixed on one stall: ’Archery Challenge.’
The grand prize was a blue crystal hairclip that sparkled under the lantern light.
"Want to try?" Fyar asked.
Illya nodded.
They then walked toward the stall.
The stall keeper gave them a lazy smile, as if he had already anticipated their arrival. His face showed his boredom.
"Three arrows, one silver coin. Three hits on the target, Miss."
His face so fucking annoying.. Heh, he probably thinks we’re just another failed couple,
Fyar took a silver coin from his pocket and handed it to the stall keeper.
Illya picked up the simple wooden bow. Her posture was stiff. She had a little trouble aiming the arrow.
She rarely holds a physical weapon like a sword or bow. Well, she’s a witch. She doesn’t really need it, Fyar thought, watching Illya’s awkward pose.
Illya drew the bowstring, closed one eye, and released.
Ssst! The first arrow missed badly, sticking into the wooden wall beside the target.
"A... again."
The second arrow flew too high.
"O... one more time!"
The third arrow didn’t even hit the wall.
Illya put the bow down and looked down, disappointed. "I’m really the worst .."
Fyar gently stroked Illya’s green hair. "Don’t say things like that. You’re just not used to it."
Fyar turned to the stall keeper, who looked pleased with Illya’s failure.
Tch. His face piss me off
Fyar stepped forward and handed another silver coin to the man. "My turn."
"Go ahead, Sir," the man said, taking the coin from Fyar’s hand.
Fyar picked up the bow, nocked an arrow, and felt its light weight. He ignored the noise from the surrounding area.
He drew the bowstring, aimed, and released.
THWIP.
The first arrow hit the exact center of the red circle.
The stall keeper stopped smiling. He leaned his body forward slightly.
Fyar took the second arrow.
THWIP .
The second arrow embedded itself right next to the first.
Illya stared at Fyar in awe. "A-amazing," Illya said softly.
The third arrow. Fyar aimed at his second arrow.
THWIP. The third arrow slammed into the back of the second, splitting it in two.
The stall keeper gaped at the sight.
"Such a shame," Fyar said flatly.
With a slightly trembling hand and a forced smile, the stall keeper handed the blue crystal hairclip to Fyar.
Fyar took it, then turned back to Illya, who was looking at him with pure admiration.
"I believe this belongs to you, my beautiful guide," Fyar said with a soft smile.
He tucked the hairclip into Illya’s green hair. The clip sparkled, perfectly matching her hair color.
"T-thank you, Fyar.." Illya whispered,a soft smile etched on her flushed face.
They continued to wander until they finally reached a quieter corner, where an old artist sat in front of his canvas, drawing something.
In front of the man was a poster that read "Offering Simple Portrait Services."
"Fyar, let’s get a portrait done," Illya suggested.
A portrait, huh. Good idea. Heh, I’ll count this as my first photo with my future wife.
He nodded. "Off course"
Illya then pulled him in front of the painter. "Two poses, please, for a couple," Illya said softly.
The old artist looked at them for a moment before nodding with a smile.
The artist directed them to pose normally first. The first portrait was a standard pose. They stood side by side, a little stiff.
Is this right? Is my pose correct? Wait, smile or look serious?
Illya, who seemed to understand Fyar’s confusion, nudged his shoulder. "Stand up straight next to me, Fyar. Put your arm around me, look at the painter, and smile."
Fyar followed Illya’s instructions and did as she said. After their pose was deemed perfect, the artist began to paint.
For the second portrait, Fyar suggested a slightly sillier pose. "I want a hero pose," he said.
He stood tall, crossed his arms, and tried to look dashing. Illya laughed softly at his behavior and tried to copy his pose. However, the result looked more like a pouting girl.
The painter handed them two simple sketches. His drawings were quick, but they had successfully captured their essence.
"I’ll take this one" Illya said quickly, taking the second portrait. "You can have the first one."
"Only this one?" Fyar pretended to protest.
"Of course. The best one is for me~," Illya replied, sticking her tongue out. Then she carefully put her portrait into her pocket.
.....
On the other side of the city, Zaefal walked among the sea of people. His face was grim, a stark contrast to the surrounding festivities.
Strange .
Zaefal looked around. His eyes were alert.
This is strange. I haven’t seen a single Guardian on patrol. Not in the crowded areas or the quiet ones. What is this? Usually, on festival days, the Guardians patrol openly. What’s happened this year?
"OI, Zaefal!"
Before long, Zaefal heard a woman’s shout from a distance. When he turned, he saw a red-haired woman waving at him. It was Rasie.
Seeing her, Zaefal smiled gently and walked over to her.
"How was your tournament?" Zaefal asked.
"I won, you know! It sucks you didn’t watch!" Rasie replied with a slightly disappointed expression.
"Sorry..," Zaefal replied calmly.
"Fyar and Illya?"
Rasie chuckled. "They’re probably on a date, what else."
Zaefal laughed lightly. "Well, it can’t be helped."
Rasie tapped his shoulder. "Why do you look so grim? Lose money? Holding in a shit?"
She sighed, shaking her head. "Even during the festival, you can’t rest huh"
"Did you see any Guardians, Rasie? At the arena or while you were walking around?" Zaefal asked, his expression turning serious.
"Huh? How should I know." Rasie shrugged. "I wasn’t paying attention."
Zaefal narrowed his eyes. "I think there’s something strange about this festival, Rasie."
"The only strange thing here is you, Zaefal. When people are looking for entertainment and having fun, you’re like someone working unpaid overtime. Geez."
Rasie paused for a moment before continuing, "Learn to relax little bit."
"I’m serious," Zaefal said. He started to walk slowly, his eyes scanning the crowd again. "Usually, the Guardians make a public appearance during a festival like this."
Rasie followed, walking beside him. "really?."
She looked around. "maybe you right..I really haven’t seen any Guardians."