To welcome the Fashion Festival, all the Magic Street Lamps along the streets were lit up, and the shops hung up colorful lanterns.
The Central Square was packed with people, and the air was thick with the scent of roasted meat and spices.
To avoid drawing attention before going on stage, the four of them each wore a wide, black cloak over their outrageous costumes.
Though their cloaks blocked their appearance, they couldn’t block out the noise.
“Did you hear? Miss Yuna’s design this time was inspired by a real Fallen Nun!”
“Heh heh, I even bought that poster. Those legs, that look in her eyes—tsk tsk, it’s wild.”
Passing Adventurers chatted excitedly, waving a piece of parchment in their hands, displaying a familiar image.
Celia stared at the wall by the roadside.
The bulletin board that used to display bounty notices was now plastered with the Poster of Forbidden Gospel.
The artist had clearly added their own touch—the “Fallen Nun” on the poster had a smoldering gaze, and the whip in her hand was twice as thick as it should be.
“Priestess, look, the chest in this portrait is drawn way bigger than yours.”
Elent leaned in, pointing at the obviously exaggerated part on the poster, making an honest comment.
“…Say that again?”
Celia stopped walking, her gaze turning icy as she looked at Elent.
Elent realized he’d said something wrong and immediately clammed up.
Ahead, the sound of a harp drifted over.
A Ballad Singer stood by the fountain, surrounded by an audience.
“Ah, that beastly knight, tearing apart the holy facade!”
The Ballad Singer’s voice was passionate, even moving his body to the rhythm.
“Cold chains wrapped around the maiden’s throat. She trembled, letting out a plaintive cry in the darkness: ‘Oh, please don’t stop, my knight…’”
“Pfft—”
Lynn covered her mouth, her face red as a ripe tomato, shrinking into her cloak and trembling.
Celia expressionlessly reached out from under her cloak and covered her ears.
If she couldn’t hear it, then it never happened.
“Let’s go faster.” Celia quickened her pace.
Pushing through the crowd, a strange noise drew everyone’s attention.
A long line had formed in front of a roadside stall. The vendor was a Gnome, holding a glass bottle filled with a cloudy, purple liquid.
“Come look, come see! This is the legendary Thunder Holy Elixir!”
The Gnome shouted in a shrill voice.
“One sip, and you’ll be full of energy! Two sips, and you’ll be protected by lightning! This is an exclusive recipe handed down from that mysterious priest!”
Elent stopped in his tracks.
“Priestess, isn’t this our Happy Water?”
Celia didn’t answer, just walked up to the stall.
The liquid in the bottle was dark and murky, with only a few weak bubbles.
There was even a whiff of low-grade mint and over-fermented berries.
Did this Gnome just bottle his foot wash? With this color, drinking it might send someone straight to see their great-grandmother.
“It’s fake. And pretty poor quality, too.” Celia gave her verdict.
“Boss, I’ll take a bottle!” an unwitting Adventurer tossed over a silver coin.
“Alrighty!” The Gnome took the money and handed over a bottle.
The Adventurer took a big swig, only to scrunch up his face in disgust and spit it all out.
“Pah! Thunder Holy Elixir, my foot! This is just dishwater with pepper!”
“Nonsense, it’s just your constitution can’t handle the baptism of thunder!” the Gnome retorted loudly.
Elent gripped the hilt of his sword, about to step forward, but Celia stopped him.
“Trash like this isn’t worth our time.”
Celia noticed the Adventurer had already grabbed the Gnome by the collar, the corners of her mouth lifting ever so slightly.
The real thing hasn’t even gone on sale, but the knockoffs have already ruined the reputation. That’s actually a good thing.
Once they taste real Happy Water, the difference will be so stark that it’ll serve as the best advertisement.
Casting a disdainful glance at the fake elixir stall, Celia was about to leave when her nose caught a rich, fragrant aroma.
“Forget that, I smell something good.”
Celia’s gaze cut through the crowd, locking onto a lavishly decorated dessert stall.
“Baker City Limited—Starry Sky Lava Chocolate.”
That’s what the sign in front of the stall read.
Next to it was a sample of a black, spherical dessert dusted with gold powder.
Celia’s eyes sparkled.
Compared to social death and counterfeit goods, eating was the real priority.
The four squeezed up to the stall.
“Boss, four portions of Starry Sky Lava.” Celia pulled out her coin pouch.
“Sorry, miss.” The owner pointed at the counter. “There’s only one left.”
On the counter, a single, exquisite black orb sat alone.
“I’ll take it.”
Just as Celia reached out, another hand clad in a white silk glove reached over at the same time, pressing down on the counter.
“This dessert is mine.”
A voice sounded out.
Celia turned her head to see a girl in an ornate Lolita dress standing beside her.
The girl had golden curls, a folding fan in her hand, and two Bodyguards in uniform behind her.
“Double the price.” The blonde girl didn’t even look at Celia, speaking directly to the owner.
“Uh…” The owner glanced at Celia, looking troubled.
“Triple.” Celia calmly raised the offer.
When it came to food, she never backed down.
The blonde girl sized up Celia.
Wrapped in a black cloak, Celia’s face was hidden, and all that could be seen was her small stature.
“What’s with this tasteless black rag? You’re polluting the air of Baker City. Boss, wrap up that chocolate for me—I need it to purify my vision.”
The blonde girl disdainfully waved her fan in front of her nose, as if Celia was radiating some kind of stubborn moldy smell.
“Boss,” she ignored Celia’s bid, lifting her chin at the stall owner, “I’ll pay four times the price, and throw in two copper coins so she can buy a black loaf from the next stall and roll away—stop spoiling my appetite.”
As for introducing herself? She couldn’t care less about letting a beggar know who she was.
“Ha? And who do you think you are, talking to me like that?”
Celia was furious. All she wanted was some chocolate—why did it have to turn into this?
“Oh? Not only do you not run, you even dare talk back? Listen well, I’m Catherine, heiress of the Violet Chamber of Commerce. If you know what’s good for you, get lost now before I have my Bodyguards move you.”
The two Bodyguards stepped forward, exuding a warrior’s aura, trying to drive away these mysterious cloaked people.
Elent immediately stepped in front of Celia.
Though covered by a cloak, his tall build and barely contained anger gave off an intimidating presence.
“More money, huh?”
Celia pulled out a pouch of gold coins from under her cloak and slammed it on the counter.
“Ten gold coins. Keep the change.”
The crowd around them gasped.
Spending ten gold coins on a dessert? The world of the rich is truly terrifying!
Catherine’s face flushed red. Though she was the heiress of a merchant guild, strict family rules meant she would never carry that much cash around.
“You—you’re humiliating me!”
Catherine, furious and flustered, ordered her Bodyguards:
“Uncloak her—I want to see just who dares act so bold in Baker City!”
One Bodyguard reached for Celia’s hood.
“Smack!”
A bandaged hand caught the Bodyguard’s wrist.
Elent squeezed gently, and the Bodyguard let out a scream.
In the scuffle, Celia’s hood slipped off.
Catherine’s eyes widened at the girl before her.
The black nun habit left little to the imagination, with fishnet stockings squeezing into her thighs in the lamplight, and the collar at her throat gleaming coldly.
Most frightening of all was her gaze—the vengeful glare of someone denied her food, coupled with heavy eye makeup, giving off a frosty, disdainful look.
And behind Celia, Elent’s cloak had also slipped halfway.
His upper body was bare, crisscrossed with scars.
Catherine’s face turned ghostly pale. This look, this aura—these couldn’t be ordinary Adventurers.
Could they be Fallen Ones?!
“Y-you’re…” Catherine’s voice trembled.
She was in big trouble now—she’d picked a fight with a steel wall.
Celia picked up the chocolate from the counter and took a bite. Thick syrup oozed out.
She licked her lips, looked at Catherine, and said:
“Scram.”
Catherine shrieked, grabbed her skirt, and ran for her life, not even sparing a glance at her Bodyguards.
“It’s the Black Church! Run!”
The crowd exploded. A bubble of empty space formed around Celia.
Celia ignored the commotion. She finished the chocolate in a few bites, then nodded with satisfaction:
“Not bad.”
A bit pricey, though—ten gold coins!
Celia’s heart ached.
Damn you, Catherine!
Celia pulled her hood back up, hiding her scandalous attire once more.
“Let’s go.”
Now the rumors are going to spread.