Chapter 8: Velmyra, the City of Fashion (1)

Part 1

The cold surface air was a distant memory by the time the group finally arrived at Velmyra's gates.

The journey had been peaceful, and after the tension in the dungeon, the sight of the city offered an unexpectedly warm welcome.

One day earlier...

—Alright! Now that we're done getting filthy in that dungeon... it's shopping time! —Melodía proclaimed, raising one arm with theatrical enthusiasm.

—You're always thinking about spending money —Haruto replied, arms crossed and wearing a faint smile.

—You don't get to visit Velmyra every day. —Melodía insisted, ignoring the comment.

—They say the best designers in the world work there. Their clothes even reach other kingdoms.

—Of course, we'll be resting for a few days. So we might as well explore the city —added Yuna, showing a hint of interest—. I'm curious too.

Thalindra, still with smudges of grease on her face from working at her forge, approached the group.

—You won't regret it. Velmyra is a true spectacle. But afterward… I want to head to Port Jade. Paradise Beaches have always been my dream, but forge work kept me stuck.

—Then straight to Velmyra, Kizu! —exclaimed Kizuna, spinning happily through the air.

Back to the present…

Velmyra rose like a jewel nestled among the mountains: its elegant architecture, perfectly aligned streets, and polished stone buildings adorned with golden accents reflected the sunlight like stained glass.

All around, well-dressed dwarves walked with a calm that sharply contrasted with the bustle of Molgaroth.

—Well... this is different —Haruto commented, glancing around.

—"Different" doesn't even cover it —added Melodía, eyeing the shop windows filled with mannequins wearing haute couture—. Have dwarves always been this... stylish?

Thalindra chuckled softly.

—Velmyra isn't Molgaroth. Here, life revolves around fashion and refinement. It's a city of fine trade, not heavy industry.

Kizuna floated beside her, eyes sparkling at the dresses and outfits.

—Kizu, this is like a fairytale! Do you think they make clothes in my size?

Simmone, walking calmly beside Haruto, gave the windows a brief glance before speaking.

—Functionality is always preferable to appearance.

—Hmph. —Melodía huffed, lifting her chin—. But you can't deny a little style helps... don't you think?

Simmone ignored her and tugged gently on Haruto's jacket.

—Can we go to a café? I'd like some tea, if that's alright.

—Of course, Simo —Haruto replied with a smile, patting her head. For a brief moment, he thought he saw a faint curve in the girl's lips.

—Hey, don't ignore me! —Melodía protested, visibly annoyed—. And how long are you going to stay clinging to his arm?

—What a vulgar woman... ah, I probably shouldn't have said that. Oh well, doesn't matter —Simmone replied in her usual impassive tone, turning back to Haruto.

—Vulgar woman!? I'm still very young, for your information!

Up ahead, Yuna sighed, looking toward the central plaza where shops and cafés shimmered under the sun.

—Don't argue with a child, Melodía...

—Yeah, yeah, Haruto's new loli is right, Kizu —she joked, laughing as she twirled in the air.

—Loli? —Thalindra echoed, frowning as she thought aloud—. So Simmone's a great artisan too?

—Look, there's a café —Haruto interrupted nervously, pointing to a nearby place—. How about we go in?

As they approached, a refined dwarf with orange hair opened the door for them. He wore a flawless suit and had a monocle over his right eye, radiating elegance.

—Welcome to The Golden Thread Nook. I hope our offerings are to your liking. My name is Baldric, and I will be at your service —he said with a polite nod.

—The pleasure is all ours, Baldric. A table for six, please —Melodía replied, adopting a refined tone that matched the atmosphere perfectly.

—Of course. This way, please —the dwarf replied courteously, guiding them with elegance toward the interior.

The group settled near a window. Although the café was busy, the other patrons remained absorbed in their own conversations.

—What may I offer you? —asked Baldric, pulling out a small notebook with precise movements.

—Bring us your finest teas —Melodía said with an air of sophistication—. Also a selection of pastries, toast with jams, and your best savory dishes.

Baldric nodded with professional grace.

—An excellent choice. I'll be right back —he said before disappearing briskly between the tables.

—What an elegant place —murmured Yuna, her gaze carefully taking in every detail.

—Yeah… It's not like the cafés I knew in Japan, but this one has its charm too —added Haruto, admiring the finely crafted furniture—. I never imagined dwarves being so... refined.

Thalindra gave him a sharp look.

—I don't know what image you have of us, but we come in all kinds. In Velmyra, elegance is culture. We do a lot of trade with the light elves.

—My mother says the same —Melodía added with a smile—. She always spoke of the dwarves' perfection. She admired their dedication.

—They can turn metal into art… or thread into a dazzling dress —Yuna said with genuine admiration—. A truly exceptional race.

Thalindra leaned back slightly in her chair.

—Everything we create bears our name. And with it, our reputation. It's a pride, but also a burden.

At that moment, Baldric began serving the order in stages. Steaming tea, delicately arranged dishes, and even a special cup for Kizuna adorned the table.

—What an exceptional aroma… I never get tired of the teas in this world —Simmone commented in her usual neutral tone, taking her cup with elegance.

However, the moment the edge touched her lips, she pulled back with a slight grimace.

—Agh. I forgot how much temperature matters when drinking tea in human form —she said, rubbing her lips with an almost mechanical gesture.

Yuna, ever attentive, soaked a napkin with water and gently pressed it against the girl's lips.

—Here. This should help a bit.

Haruto watched the scene in silence, smiling. Yuna's warmth felt natural—like that of an older sister… or a mother.

After a moment, Haruto looked at Simmone with curiosity.

—I've always wanted to ask you something, Simmone.

—Yes? —she replied, setting down her cup with her usual calm.

—Your clothes already gave me a hint, but... are you British?

—That's right. I lived in London —she answered, her silver eyes calmly resting on him.

—I figured. Your dress has a very Victorian style —Haruto said, pointing it out with a smile.

Simmone glanced down at her outfit, examining it briefly.

—Victorian? What does that mean?

Then she looked back at Haruto with a faint flicker of curiosity.

—It's what we called the style of Queen Victoria's era, in the 19th century. In my world, we used the monarch's name to refer to certain historical periods. The Victorian era was known for its architecture, formal clothing… and also for its strict worldview.

Simmone blinked slowly.

—Ah… I see. In that case, yes. I suppose I fit right in.

—Now that I think about it, your clothes did seem unusual. When I heard you were Japanese, I assumed you came from the same place as me.

—Where I lived, the year is 2030 —Haruto replied in a calm but slightly cautious tone.

—I see… —Simmone said, bringing a hand to her chin thoughtfully—. So that's what you call it in the future.

—The future? —Haruto repeated, surprised.

—I remember the last time I saw a newspaper was in 1872. I was twelve years old when I escaped from London —Simmone revealed calmly, as if it were a trivial fact, while placing her cup on the saucer with elegance.

The group fell silent.

Yuna gently set her cup down, eyes fixed on Simmone. The others stared at her, processing what they had just heard.

—And what's this "London" place you mentioned like? —Melodía asked, trying to sound casual, though her curiosity was obvious.

Simmone didn't reply. She simply continued sipping her tea, unmoved.

—Hey! Don't ignore me! —Melodía protested, irritated.

—Sorry. It's just that, besides Kizuna, I don't really like blondes —Simmone said in her usual neutral tone, setting the cup back on its saucer—. Ah, I shouldn't have said that.

Though she said it, she didn't sound particularly sorry.

Kizuna burst out laughing so hard she ended up spitting some of her tea.

—I can't believe it! Kikiki...

—What a rude, ill-mannered brat —Melodía muttered, crossing her arms in wounded dignity—. The British, or whatever they're called, clearly have no manners.

Simmone said nothing. Her silence was answer enough.

—Setting that aside... —Yuna interjected with her usual calm, trying to ease the tension—. I'd like to know how you ended up in Mythara, and why you were hurt.

For a moment, a faint flicker crossed Simmone's face. Something like emotion... barely noticeable.

—I was being hunted.

The atmosphere froze.

—Hunted? —Thalindra repeated, frowning—. Who would do something like that to a child?

—Scotland Yard sent London's best detective: Eleonor "Elle" Ravenscroft. She was accompanied by her assistant, Dr. Margaret "Maggie" Bell —Simmone said, her tone hard to define—. They joined forces with their arch-nemesis, Professor Artemisia Drake, the most cunning criminal in the country. All just to capture me.

The table went dead silent.

Even Haruto looked shaken.

—A detective and a criminal working together? —Melodía murmured, stunned—. That sounds... excessive.

Haruto narrowed his eyes, deep in thought.

—But why? What did they think you had done?

Simmone absentmindedly traced the edge of her teacup. When she spoke again, her voice was low.

—Because I'm cursed.

—Cursed? —Yuna repeated, her voice tense.

—It's a long story. The Amoretta family bears a curse... placed on us by vampires.

A heavy silence settled over the table.

—My mother was Jackeline Amoretta. Though in the newspapers, they called her... Jack the Reaper.

Clang.

A teacup crashed onto its saucer.

Haruto had let go of it without realizing. His face had gone pale. His hands were trembling.

—Jack the Reaper...? —he murmured, barely audible.

The background chatter of the café seemed to vanish.

Simmone's words hadn't just brought answers.

They brought an abyss of new questions.