A Snake’s Life Ch 83

Chapter 83

 

“We’ve arrived. Will this do?”

 

“Anywhere would’ve been fine, but…”

 

Behind the transparent display cases, every piece of jewelry boasted sizable, exquisitely cut gemstones. The opulence was almost intimidating.

 

Honestly, I hadn’t expected Wol to bring me somewhere this extravagant. He’d *seen* the contents of my pouch—why here? The difference between my humble collection and these masterpieces was laughable. Would they even accept them?

 

A simple pawnshop would’ve sufficed. Some of the gems were gifts from nobles, but most came from servants and maids. They were undeniably mediocre.

 

But the carriage had already stopped. I had no choice.

 

*Ding-a-ling.* The shop bell chimed as we entered. The clerk’s eyes narrowed slightly—our hoods marked us as commoners, not nobility. Jewelry was a noble’s game; commoners rarely dared to step inside. Our plain attire and lack of a family crest on the carriage only deepened his skepticism.

 

“What brings you here?”

 

He blocked our path. The question made me falter. His condescending gaze raked over our clothes, doubting our pockets. Annoyance flared, but I swallowed it. Money talked. I pulled out my pouch.

 

“We’re here to sell gems.”

 

I handed it over with an internal sigh. The clerk wordlessly loosened the drawstring and peered inside. He tilted his hand, letting the stones tumble briefly before they vanished back into the bag. Then he shook his head and cinched the pouch shut.

 

A patronizing smile curled his lips.

 

“Apologies, but we don’t deal in such…”

 

*Expected.* The gems *were* shabby. Honestly, the pouch itself looked more valuable. We’d have to try elsewhere. I reached for it—but the bag never landed in my palm.

 

Confused, I looked up. The clerk’s pupils trembled, then dilated with outright fear.

 

*What’s his problem?*

 

His stare wasn’t fixed on the gems but the pouch. *My* pouch—the one Zerpell had given me, embroidered with a grand dragon motif. Wait… *Oh.*

 

Before I could react, the clerk’s gaze darted behind me to Wol and Paul. Wol smirked and subtly flashed a badge—the insignia of the Third Imperial Knights.

 

The clerk’s spine bent at a perfect 90 degrees, his bow so deep I wondered if his forehead would crack the floor. The motion sent my bangs fluttering.

 

“M-My deepest apologies! I failed to recognize your esteemed presence! P-Please, come in!”

 

His face paled to a sickly blue. He kept bowing, stammering excuses, until I waved him off. Wol nudged me forward.

 

*”Go on,”* he mouthed.

 

The clerk seated me on a plush sofa, hands shaking as he served tea. The cup rattled in its saucer like a terrified squirrel.

 

“P-Please wait a moment! I’ll fetch the owner!”

 

He backpedaled, bowing nonstop until he vanished. The fragrant tea left me guilt-stricken.

 

“…This feels like extortion.”

 

Wol grinned. “Hardly. We didn’t lift a finger.”

 

“That’s… not wrong.”

 

Now I understood Wol and Paul’s odd behavior in the carriage. The gems hadn’t mattered—the pouch was the real credential. *Who carries a royal emblem casually?* And Wol’s badge had sealed the clerk’s terror.

 

The owner arrived in a fluster, tripping over his own greetings.

 

“H-Honored guest! Welcome!”

 

“Uh… Yeah. About the gems—”

 

“O-Of course! No one pays more generously than us!”

 

He shot the clerk a look, and my pouch was returned—now suspiciously heavier. I peeked inside. *Gold coins. A lot of them.*

 

“Is this… the right amount?”

 

Before I could protest, the owner waved frantically.

 

“Please, keep it! Just—favor us with your patronage!”

 

“But I—”

 

“Let’s go,” Wol interjected, steering me out. I glanced back just in time to see Paul slip something to the owner. *Paper?* A *check*? The owner recoiled, but Paul forced it into his hand.

 

“Hey! You’re making me look bad!”

 

“Our duty,” Wol said smoothly.

 

“…Whatever.”

 

I’d wanted to handle this myself, but they’d hijacked it. Still, the result was good.

 

“Now, let’s buy that gift!”

 

I hefted the bulging pouch, spirits lifting. The ends justified the means. But first—

 

“We need a new pouch.”

 

The clerk had returned the coins in *the same bag*, its dragon now grotesquely stretched from the weight. I swapped it at a nearby stall. *Much better.*

 

“Do you have a gift in mind?” Wol asked.

 

“A fountain pen. Zerpell signs documents with one. Practical, right?”

 

“He’ll adore it.”

 

“Right? I picked something he’ll use daily.”

 

“…Will he, though?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Nothing. The pens are this way.”

 

His odd tone nagged at me, but the display ahead wiped my doubts. I tested nibs, weights, and balances, finally selecting one with a subtle engraved pattern. The shopkeeper even threw in ink. My pouch slimmed considerably, but the thrill of the first purchase lingered.

 

“Let’s go.”

 

As I turned, a familiar figure caught my eye.

 

“Huh?”

 

I backtracked, squinting. *Casa. And… Lady Camilla?*

 

I knew they worked together—they often visited Zerpell’s office. Official business, I’d assumed. Yet here they were, picking cakes in a dessert shop. *On duty?*

 

“…That’s Casa,” Wol murmured.

 

“Yeah. Not mistaken. Let’s say hi.”

 

“Wait—”

 

Happy to see them, I headed over. Paul’s protest was lost in street noise as I pushed the door open. A sugary chime greeted me, followed by the scent of vanilla.

 

Up close, Casa stood guard behind Camilla, who deliberated over pastries with a tray in hand.

 

“What’re you up to?”

 

Casa ignored me—until he noticed Wol and Paul. His icy stare made sense. *Right. The hood.* I scratched my cheek, ready to leave, but Casa gripped my shoulder.

 

“…Don’t tell me—Shu—”

 

He cut himself off, releasing me.

 

“What brings you here?”

 

“You recognized me?”

 

“Your mannerisms. And your footsteps.”

 

*Do all bodyguards memorize gaits?*

 

“Is something the matter?”

 

Camilla approached, her tray piled high. Her puzzled gaze made me fidget. *Well, the gift’s bought. Time to leave.*

 

I carefully lowered my hood.

 

“Hi…?”

 

Camilla’s eyes widened. Then, recovering, she curtsied gracefully, balancing the tray with practiced ease.

 

“Lady Shuiren, what a pleasure.”

 

She beamed. I smiled back.

 

*Why am I here again?* I’d only meant to greet Casa, but Camilla—still smiling—steered me toward a table. “Join us for tea?”

 

I couldn’t refuse. Especially when she added, “His Highness mentioned you recently. Care to hear?”

 

Hook, line, and sinker.

 

And so, I found myself seated opposite them, desserts between us.