Why was I discovered?

Aelina pushed herself up, mouth gritty with dust. Before her lay the spring-loaded cart—toppled like its owner. Revolting potatoes scattered across the ground, vanishing faster than frost under the sun as they rolled into the crowd.

*This cart’s too distinctive. That ape remembers it. He stole nearly everything I owned. Rode three horses to death without rest, racing straight to the docks. Just to force his filthy body onto mine. His tiny brain holds nothing but vile urges. He’d stop at nothing for this.*

Rage flared in Aelina. Her teeth ground together with a terrifying crunch. She twisted around to see the bald bandit looming over her, his crotch bulging as he reached out. Dark circles ringed his bloodshot eyes—exhausted yet burning with lust.

His rough, stinking hand nearly grabbed her fluffy silver beast ears. In a flash, Aelina lunged, jaws snapping shut on his fingers. Bone crackled like snapping twigs. The bald bandit stared in disbelief as she spat out two fingers still attached to a chunk of palm, her face twisted in disgust.

Aelina prepared to press her advantage. Her bite could pierce titanium alloy—her final trump card.

“You bitch!”

The bandit’s boot slammed into her forehead. Her head cracked against the dirt, kicking up dust. The mechanical girl felt no dizziness. She sprang up, rapier drawn, aiming straight for his heart. But the bandit had two comrades. Spear and shield raised, one thrust his weapon, striking her rapier. The vibration numbed her arm. The blade flew from her grip. Face flushed crimson, the bandit backhanded her—once, twice. Stinging heat bloomed across her cheeks.

“You bitch dares to bite? Today, I’ll get ten men and a horse to take turns with you.”

The crowd that had begged to buy her shoes moments ago stood frozen. Neither leaving nor helping, they craned their necks like geese, whispering about the girl’s beauty, her adorable beast ears, why the bald man would strike such a lovely face.

A roasted-rat vendor shouldered through the throng, iron-wrapped club in hand. “What are you doing? Kidnapping a young lady in broad daylight?” His hoarse shout carried weight, his burly frame imposing.

“What’s it to you?” The bandit glared up, his two mercenaries leveling spears at the vendor. “I’m disciplining my wife. None of your damn business.”

The vendor paled. His soot-streaked beard trembled as he bowed repeatedly, forcing a smile. “My apologies! I didn’t know she was your wife.” He retreated into the crowd.

Aelina lunged, grabbing his arm to bite again. The bandit yanked her silver hair, wrenching her head back. Scalp screaming, her jaw went slack. She glared up, fury blazing.

“Feisty bitch. Soft hair too. Later, I’ll grab it while I—” He dragged her away by the hair. “Move your ass!”

“Make way! Clear the path!”

One onlooker was shoved down. A mercenary turned to see what happened—just as a longsword cleaved his skull. *Crack!* The second mercenary raised his shield in panic. Towering over him stood an armored knight in black helm, sword raised like a war god descended. The shield shattered. Steel bit deep into the mercenary’s shoulder. He screamed as the Elven Knight kicked him hard in the gut, sending him crashing into another spectator.

It happened in a heartbeat. The crowd saw the knight swing once—two mercenaries fell. The bald bandit hadn’t even drawn his weapon before a blade sliced his chest. Seeing his filthy hand still gripping silver hair, Fro roared like a beast beneath his helm. He raised his sword high and brought it down. The bandit’s right hand thudded to the dirt amid gasps.

The bandit stared at his severed limb. Fro kicked him down, boot crushing his chest. Gasping, the bandit opened his mouth to beg. Pain and terror twisted his cries into meaningless shrieks.

“Stop!”

Aelina’s voice cracked like thunder, startling Fro.

The Elf sheathed his sword and lifted his Tier Three Helmet’s visor. Aelina stood before him—disheveled. Dust coated her brown linen cloak. Two vivid red marks marred the flawless face he’d never forgotten. Her silver hair, once radiant and smooth, hung tangled and filthy. The grime on the girl who’d always seemed like a star fallen from the heavens pierced Fro’s heart. He wanted to tell her he’d searched endlessly since waking. That he wasn’t angry about her lies. That he begged her forgiveness.

But words failed him. He stammered, “Ae… Aelina.”

Aelina shook her hair. Dust rained down. Her silver locks gleamed anew. The red marks faded. Dirt slid from skin that glowed as always. Silent, face icy, she picked up her rapier with a copper-studded leather gauntlet and strode toward the bandit.

Seeing a woman approach, the vicious bandit leered at her chest. “Heh heh heh. Can’t get enough of my cock, bitch? You—”

*CRUNCH.*

Aelina stomped on his half-eaten left hand, grinding her full weight down. Bone crunched. Sweat beaded on his pale, sweaty scalp as his screams shifted pitch with each grind of her heel.

“Make way! Clear the path!”

“Fro! Fro!”

The priestess pushed through the gawking crowd with three Flamefist warriors. She grabbed Fro’s cloak. “Fro, what happened? Are you hurt? I still have divine spells today—”

“I’m fine,” Fro muttered.

Only then did the priestess’s blue eyes notice the silver-haired girl meting out punishment. Silver hair cascaded to her waist. Fluffy beast ears stood rigid with fury. *Her waist’s thick. Not even that pretty.* The priestess smoothed her own slender waist. *At least a size bigger than mine. He must be enchanted to think this silver-haired woman is the most beautiful.*

Aelina suddenly spat her first curse in this world: “Fuck you!” She kicked the bandit’s chest—*crack*—a rib snapped. Rapier raised, she lashed him again and again. His shrieks tore through the market. The sharp blade shredded leather armor and skin alike. She stabbed and slashed his groin first. Black blood seeped through soaked, dark cotton. Then she carved his face. His screams dwindled to whimpers.

The priestess shuddered behind Fro, clutching her Flamefist holy symbol. *Witches truly are as vicious as legends say. Fro could never love such a crude, cruel woman.* A flicker of joy warmed her chest.

Aelina finished her fury. Calm now, she drove the rapier through the bandit’s heart—a mercy. She walked past the Elf standing behind her, helmet tucked under his arm, as if he were a tree.

“Aelina.”

She heard nothing. Gathering her hair, she tucked it into her cloak, pulled up the hood, and masked her face—only eyes visible. She knelt, collecting blood-stained copper coins like any ordinary shoe seller.

“Hold my helmet,” Fro said softly, entrusting the black helm to the priestess. He helped Aelina gather coins, lifted the cart, and polished each coin with his cloak before handing them over.

The crowd murmured.

“Who is that silver-haired girl to him?”

“She must be nobility blessed by the Celestial Deity. I heard her family served the royal court.”

“He must have fallen for her during the invasion of Nophia.”

Imagination ran wild. Soon, a “touching” tale spread: an Elven Knight, invading Nophia, fell for a noble lady. Her fortune burned in the war. Reduced to a refugee, she wandered destitute. The knight abandoned his post, searching endlessly…

“Sir Knight, thank you, thank you,” Aelina said in a matronly tone, accepting the polished coins with stiff-backed gratitude.

“Aelina, don’t be angry with me.”

Silence. She turned, pushing the cart. The priestess stepped forward. “Hey! You’re Aelina, right? Fro’s calling you! Why won’t you answer?”

Aelina planted the cart’s flag. “And you are, miss?” she asked in that same matronly voice.

The priestess tilted her chin defiantly. “I’m Lys.”

“Miss Lys, care for a pair of shoes? Ancestral magic—no needles, no thread. Leather shoes, boots. Durable and elegant. Custom-made. Guaranteed satisfaction.”

The perfect hawker.

“Stop playing dumb, witch.”

“Lys, be quiet,” Fro cut in.

Lys hurled the helmet into the cart. “Fro, she’s pretending!”

“Aelina, I—”

“Sir Knight, need combat boots?” Still the matron’s voice.

“Aelina.”

“We don’t carry the ‘Aelina’ model.” She pushed past him, cart creaking. “Revenge seekers welcome! Shoes still on sale! Fifty straw pairs today at noon! Six coppers each! Barter with grain or goods! Honest prices for all!”

Fro watched her back recede. Her cry echoed through the refugee camp.