The streets of Everre Plaza rested in an usual hush, the morning market stretching awake in slow preparation. Carriages drifted past at an easy pace, whispering over cobblestone freed of its blanket of snow.
Ruvian kept his hands tucked deep in his pockets, shielding them from the bitter wind as he continued down the street.
His outfit was ordinary, with a modest sense of care for how he presented himself. A dark wool coat hung from his shoulders, its hem reaching just past his thighs.
Underneath, a linen shirt and a quilted vest provided a comfortable warmth. A knitted scarf was wound twice around his neck, dyed a muted gray-blue that had likely faded from a richer color.
His gloves didn’t match either, one leather, one wool, but both were still useful. Finally, below his waist, were thick trousers tucked into his scuffed boots.
Ruvian puffed out a breath.
’It’s surely cold in the morning.’
After a few walks, he reached the corner of the plaza that curved into a narrow alcove.
That was where Ruvian spotted the café. Ivy curled over the stone archway like a curtain of green decoration. Compared to the upper district’s glittering shops, it looked very simple.
But simplicity was its strength.
This was certainly the kind of cafe he would prefer to co to over and over again.
He walked closer.
The sign above the entrance was made of dark wood. What looked at first like unmarked wood began to change. The faint strokes of shimring letters scrambled across the surface, piece by piece, until the café’s na fully ford.
[Cafe Delaciel]
’How fancy.’
Ruvian paused before entering; he couldn’t help but be amazed at it.
A gentle warmth slipped out from the doorway, carrying the aroma of roasted beans, sweet glaze, and a hint of sothing floral.
The scent was different from the coffee he rembered from his past life, but he wasn’t going to question it.
He suddenly recalled his mother’s warning yesterday before he went out to Everre Plaza. He couldn’t help but smile.
’Sorry, Avina. But it seems like I’m picking up a girl today.’
He pushed the door open.
A small bell chid overhead.
Ding!
Once he stepped inside, the space greeted him with liveliness.
Wooden panels covered the walls. Copper pipes ran across the ceiling, feeding hot water from a mana-powered boiler. The machine humd unintrusively as they released thin steam through the air.
Tables were arranged in spaces, and each one was wiped and cleaned. Near the counter, a brass lantern flickered with a steady fla. Its light ca from a mana-crystal core, glowing with a bright golden-ember colour.
Ruvian stood near the entrance for a mont, taking it all in.
This was the place where Silvena D’Elvoire would appear. Either she was already nearby, or soon would be.
Ruvian approached the counter.
"Welco to Café Delaciel," the attendant said.
"Table for one?"
"Yes."
Ruvian calmly replied.
He let his gaze sweep across the room as he followed the attendant deeper inside.
*****
Ruvian settled into his seat, near the wall with mural arts, located far opposite of the window side, but his attention never truly rested.
His gaze drifted as he surveyed the café’s interior.
There were seven custors already inside, unusually many for the hour.
Two elderly n occupied a corner booth, near the exit, their breath fogging the rims of their glazed ceramic cups.
One sipped a dark roast with spiced foam, the other stirring hazelnut milk tea that sent a faint caral scent into the air.
Near the window, a young woman in a wool shawl flipped through a pocket-sized poetry anthology, her lavender latte untouched as she read, a slice of butter-lemon brioche cooling beside it.
Further down the middle, a pair of academy scholars occupied the center table. One devoured a plate of honey-coated crescent rolls, while the other nursed a cup of vanilla cold brew and hurriedly scribbled notes across her alchemy howork.
On the far end, by the wall lined with copper pipes, a man with ink-stained gloves reviewed ledgers over a steaming mug of smoked cinnamon coffee.
They all looked painfully ordinary to him.
Except for one.
Near the back window, almost hidden by a hanging fern, sat a lone figure with short dark hair. Cloaked in a muted-grey travelling coat. A half-finished cup of chamomile cappuccino sat before her, untouched for too long.
A trace of suspicion clearly showed on his face.
Ruvian doesn’t want to draw any assumptions yet, but he can’t help thinking that woman might be Silvena. The author’s footnotes never explain the details of her disguise, so he doesn’t know which one was the person he was looking for.
’She wouldn’t disguise herself as a man... would she?’
But he was living in a fictional world of magic.
Anything is possible now!
Obviously, he can just use his [Character Sheet] skill to confirm his suspicions, but that would be quite awkward as he has to approach each target to activate the skill.
To be more precise, it was quite dangerous...
He can’t just approach that woman directly.
’No... approaching her for no reason is digging my own grave.’
Truthfully, it wasn’t Silvena that scared him.
But the invisible shadow that followed her.
Silvena D’Elvoire was the daughter of the wealthiest rchant house in the kingdom, and her father had ensured she did not walk the world unguarded.
For her sake, he had assembled an elite unit known as [The Golden Ciphers].
They were said to move like rchants, so dressed like scholars, spoke like servants, but beneath those ordinary shells were veterans of powerful figures trained from a young age.
Their purpose was to protect Silvena. Hence, wherever Silvena went, the Ciphers were already there with her.
Ruvian knew better than to assu he could drift close to Silvena without justification.
One wrong step could look like an attempt to approach her with hidden intent. Certainly, he could not afford to be mistaken for soone with a hidden agenda.
Which was why approaching her recklessly was very much considered as suicidal...
He gulped.
’Yeah, let’s just proceed with making us seem like fateful encounters. I need to make my hidden motives as vague as possible.’
’If she knows that I’m approaching her for her wealth... I’ll be as good as dead!’
Perhaps he was overthinking it. Perhaps she wouldn’t notice his intentions at all, or perhaps he could still talk his way out if things went wrong. But even knowing how thin those hopes were, he couldn’t afford to turn back now.
He had co this far now... backing down was no longer an option!
’Money first. Power will co along with it!’
Suddenly, an idea ca to his mind.
’What if the distance is already fulfilling the requirent for the skill to activate?’
If that was the case, then confirming it would take minimal effort and little risk. Ruvian willed his intention to use [Character Sheet] skill.
Then, he heard the flat voice ask him with implacable calm.
[Specify the na of the character you wish to examine.]
’Silvena D’Elvoire.’
For a brief mont, nothing happened. Then the voice returned.
[Skill activation doesn’t et the requirents]
[Target exceeds effective inspection range.]
[We recomnd closing the gaps by 4.0 ters.]
’4.0 ters more, huh? That’s a sha, then.’
Ruvian leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on the table in front of him. He decided to disregard the idea of using [Character Sheet]. Any more attempts would make him seem suspicious.
Furthermore, if the story was accurate, then the criminals who operated here would make their move soon.
Since he didn’t know exactly how they drugged their victims, nor who they chose... all he could do for now was watch.
’If my mory serves right, they should be disguised as travelling rchants.’
Once he spotted them, trailing them would be easy.
After that, approaching Silvena wouldn’t be difficult anymore. He could simply present himself as soone who happened to be chasing the sa criminals.
Ruvian slightly nodded in satisfaction.
’That should do.’
As Ruvian was absorbed in reviewing his plan, the soft clatter of ceramic broke his thoughts. The attendant had returned, placing a nu lightly on his table.
"Here you are," she said with a polite nod before stepping away.
Ruvian blinked, snapping back to the present.
’Ah, right. I need to order my drink first.’
He sighed, settling the nu between his fingers.
His gaze trailed down the list of drinks first. They were handwritten in looping ink strokes, frad by tiny decorative flourishes.
Apparently, the café offered more than what he expected.
Velthian Dark Roast, Espresso, Cappuccino, Lavender Latte, and even Chamomile Milk Brew.
Below the beverages ca a list of baked goods and light als: flaky buttered croissants, brioche filled with sweet cream and berries, honey-brushed rolls with toasted nuts, and sothing called a Cloud Soufflé Bun.
The nu reads like a blend of two worlds. The drinks were familiar in shape and na, yet entirely foreign in execution.
So were coffee he recognized, just elevated with herbs or floral syrups.
He turned the nu over and skimd through the prices.
That was when his expression lost all color.
The cheapest drink, a plain dark roast, was listed at 15 Bronze ($15).
A flavored latte climbed to 19 Bronze ($19).
For a mont, he quietly stared at the nu.
’This... this is daylight robbery!’
Later, a shadow fell across the edge of the table. Ruvian lowered the nu and found the attendant standing there, hands folded primly before her apron.
Her clean face held a courteous smile, and her eyes flicked between him and the nu as though gently asking him, ’Have you decided?’
So, Ruvian also responded with an even more decorous smile.
"Ah," he managed softly, setting the nu down.
"I’ve... decided."
The attendant nodded, still waiting.
Ruvian inhaled, accepting his fate with a grieving heart.
"I’ll have..."
──────── ✦ ────────
[Chapter 13: Plain Water, Please]
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