After establishing her grand strategy of “making money, raising a child, and saving herself,” Tulia’s top priority was to figure out just which remote corner of the world she’d ended up in.
Fortunately, over the past ten years, she hadn’t spent all her days idly surviving in the forest; she had at least managed to get a rough grasp of the surrounding area. She knew that if she headed north, she would find a small Town inhabited by humans.
“Lisbeth, you wait right here and don’t run off. Don’t talk to strangers, especially not to any weird uncles or aunties who look like they’re smiling too much or want to give you candy!”
Tulia gave this solemn warning to her daughter, whose mature appearance belied an innocence as pure as blank paper, settling her beside the fountain in the Small Park at the Town’s entrance.
Watching Lisbeth nod obediently, her silver hair gleaming in the sunlight and that peerlessly beautiful face drawing curious glances from every passerby, Tulia’s heart gave a little jolt. Wasn’t she making her even more of a target by putting such a conspicuous “signboard” here?
“Forget it. I need to refuel first before anything else!”
She took a deep breath, feeling a near-reverent anticipation as she strode straight toward the liveliest place she could spot… the Inn.
Heavens knew how she’d survived these past ten years!
Raising a kid far from human society, she’d been living off Magic Beast blood or gnawing on wild fruits every day; her mouth was practically flavorless from it all!
The memory of ale’s mellow aroma and the savory scent of roasted meat had been torturing her gourmet Vampire soul every waking moment!
“Boss! Give me your strongest ale! Make it ice-cold!”
She picked a spot in a corner and slapped the table with grand bravado.
When that golden liquid topped with tempting foam was set before her, Tulia’s eyes practically sparkled.
Forgetting any pretense of elegance, she wrapped her hands around the wooden mug—bigger than her own face.
“Glug, glug, glug—gulp, gulp—haa—!!!”
She downed more than half the mug in one go, the ice-cold ale sliding down her throat and washing away ten years’ worth of “wilderness flavor.” With a long, satisfied exhale from the depths of her soul, she exclaimed,
“Fantastic!!!”
Such a bold and unpretentious act naturally drew the attention of nearly everyone in the Inn.
No wonder—Tulia’s looks were simply too striking.
Silver hair and blue eyes, skin whiter than snow; even dressed in a plain, simple gown, she couldn’t hide the kind of delicate beauty that seemed untouched by the mortal world.
Amid the sweat and alcohol-soaked air of this Town’s Inn, she was like a dazzling Phoenix lost among chickens.
More than a few men’s eyes flashed with a mix of amazement and greed, exchanging knowing glances with each other.
Yet this “dazzling Phoenix’s” next actions immediately shattered their fantasies.
Tulia casually wiped the foam from her lips with her sleeve, then, savoring the taste, licked her rosy lips with a pink tongue and even let out a small, contented burp…
Everyone: “……”
The ill-intentioned gazes around her didn’t disappear with her lack of feminine mystique; instead, they shifted to a look of slight disdain and eager amusement.
Tulia was completely oblivious, or rather, she simply didn’t care. Immersed in the gentle buzz of long-missed alcohol, she began calculating,
“Hm… the taste isn’t bad, just not strong enough. Next time, I’ll have to ask if they’ve got something fiercer… but for now, I should think about how to get money and information.”
Her sapphire eyes started sweeping the Inn with the precision of a finely-tuned radar, silently sizing up everyone for a potential source of news—or a “gullible mark.”
“Hey, barkeep.”
A voice rang out, not loud, but with a strange penetrating quality.
Like vintage wine gliding over ice, it cut a clear line through the noisy Inn, crisp yet mellow.
Tulia tapped her fingertips lightly against the wooden counter, producing a soft knock-knock sound.
“Where’s the Carriage Shop in this Town? I want to pick a good horse.”
The barkeep kept his head down, polishing a glass, not even bothering to glance her way.
An overly beautiful and unfamiliar woman, coming in and asking questions—in his experience, that usually meant trouble.
“If you’re asking about that,” he replied flatly, with distant politeness, “then you’ve probably come to the wrong place. The Carriage Shop is on South Street and they have horses, but unfortunately, there’s none for sale lately. Maybe… a young lady like you should just rent a carriage.”
Tulia could clearly hear the indifference in his words.
She was being treated like a hot potato.
But would that bother her?
Her lips curled in a barely noticeable arc. Instead of leaving, she leaned even more lazily against the bar, continuing to probe with her low, magnetic voice at a leisurely pace.
That voice seemed to carry an invisible power impossible for the barkeep to ignore, yet the roundabout questioning was clearly starting to get on his nerves.
Her nonchalant attitude and the way her silver hair swayed as she spoke made the greedy eyes from the corner grow even more heated.
“Damn, this chick is something else…” a burly, unshaven man licked his cracked lips, staring fixedly at Tulia’s curvy back, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Look at that waist, those legs… more tempting than the dames in the mayor’s favorite canvas.”
“Heh, and she’s got white hair,” a scrawny man next to him snickered lewdly, rubbing his fingers together. “That’s just my type. Look at her, asking all those questions—she’s got ‘new in Town, easy pickings’ written all over her. She’ll be easy.”
“Easy? I just wanna make her cry under me!” a third voice joined in, thick with booze and malice. “When’s the last time a beauty like this showed up in this dump?”
Their whispers slithered through the room like snakes in tall grass, filled with open lust.
In the midst of this tense standoff—“Thunk!”—a uniformed Sheriff slammed his wooden mug down hard on the table.
The already strange mood in the Inn instantly tightened, like a drawn bowstring.
The Sheriff stood up, his sharp gaze sweeping across the faces of those harboring ill intentions, finally settling on Tulia.
“If you’re just after a horse,” his voice rang with unchallengeable authority, deliberately raised, “go to the Old Alley in the southern part of Town. There’s a Blacksmith Shop there. You might find what you’re looking for.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice with a subtle warning:
“You’d better leave. It’s for your own good.”
The moment he spoke, the mutters from the corner turned into stifled curses.
“Damn! That bastard cop!” The bearded brute spat viciously, clenching his fist. “Always sticking his damn nose where it don’t belong!”
“Ruining business, damn it!” The scrawny man scowled, face souring. “Just when we were about to reel her in!”
“Damn, I’m about to explode here…” the third drunkard panted, his eyes glued to Tulia, as if he could strip her bare with his gaze. “That slut, I’ll get her sooner or later…”
A few muffled curses drifted from the corner, clearly blaming the Sheriff for meddling and ruining their “fun.”
Even though the curses were quiet, the thick resentment and nearly tangible evil intent spread through the stuffy air.
Some of the others who’d been nursing similar thoughts now hastily averted their eyes, returning to their drinks or pretending to chat.
The Sheriff’s brow furrowed even deeper, his unease growing.
The only reason he’d stepped in was because he could sense the nearly out-of-control undercurrents in the room.
This white-haired woman before him—beautiful yet odd in her behavior—most importantly, she radiated a strange aura he couldn’t quite put his finger on, making him instinctively wary—he couldn’t let her stay here any longer.