Lys wandered back to the front of the shop after the tailor finished taking his measurements. The old shopkeeper was hunched over a scrap of cloth, scribbling notes with a piece of charcoal, muttering to himself about fabric costs.

  "I'll browse the ready-made stuff while I wait," Lys said casually, glancing around.

  The shopkeeper waved a hand without looking up. "Yeah, go ahead. Just don't mess with anything unless you're paying for it."

  Lys gave a quick nod and started strolling down the aisles. The clothes were mostly simple, rough wool shirts, basic trousers, nothing fancy, but he needed something halfway decent to tide him over until his custom order was ready.

  That's when he spotted the two women over by the women's dresses.

  One was young, maybe early twenties, with this icy beauty that screamed, "Don't touch." Her black hair was pulled up in a fancy knot with silver pins glinting in the light, and her skin was pale like she'd never seen a day's work outside. She wore a deep blue silk dress, all embroidered with gold threads, hugging her curves just right. The way she stood, chin up, scanning the racks like they offended her, it was clear she thought she was better than this place.

  Trailing behind her was a servant, a bit older, in a plain gray outfit that looked like it had seen better days. She fidgeted nervously, fixing the lady's shawl every few seconds, her eyes darting around like she expected trouble.

  The noblewoman stretched up for a hat on a high shelf, a pretty blue one with a feather dangling off it. Her fingers brushed the edge, but it was just too far. She tried again, huffing in frustration, her dress riding up a little as she strained.

  She glanced over and caught Lys watching from a few feet away.

  "Hey, you," she snapped, pointing sharply. "Grab that hat for me. The blue one up there."

  Lys paused, mid-step, and looked behind him to make sure she wasn't talking to someone else. "Uh, me?"

  She rolled her eyes with an exaggerated sigh. "Yes, of course you. Standing there gawking. Come on, I haven't got all day."

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  The servant piped up right away, her voice sharp and bossy. "Didn't you hear her? My lady said get the hat. Now!"

  Lys felt a flicker of annoyance but kept his cool. He crossed his arms loosely. "Look, I'm not working here. I'm just shopping, same as you two."

  “So what? Get that hat for me, fast.”

  “Uhh, didn’t you hear me properly? I said I’m here to shop too. Why would you just do as you ask like that?”

  The lady's eyes narrowed, as he'd just insulted her favorite pet. "Hey boy, Do you have any idea who you're talking to?"

  Her servant stepped closer, cheeks flushing red. "Look at the nerve of this boy! Talking back to Lady Selene? You're just some dirty villager. Be thankful she even noticed you!"

  Lys shrugged, trying to keep it light, but his voice came out a bit firmer. "I'm not trying to be rude. But if you need help, the shopkeeper's over there. He'll grab it for you. You can ask him."

  Lady Selene let out a short, fake laugh, covering her mouth like it was all too funny. "Oh, listen to him. This little peasant thinks he's on my level. How quaint."

  The servant wasn't laughing. She jabbed a finger at him, voice getting louder. "On your knees, thanking her, that's what you should be doing! Folks like you are made to fetch and carry for folks like us. Now get the damn hat, or I'll make sure you're tossed out of this dump!"

  Lys shook his head slowly, not budging. "Nope, not happening. And hey, ease up on the attitude. We're all here for the same thing, buying clothes, right? You’re not some royalty, are you? So why act like one?!"

  The servant's face went beet red, as she might explode. "Attitude? You're calling us rude? You worthless scum! My lady could snap her fingers and own this whole sorry village in an instant. You'd beg for scraps if she said so!"

  Lady Selene held up a hand, silencing her with a cool glance. She tilted her head, studying Lys like he was some weird bug. Her voice dropped, all icy and curious. "What's your name, boy?"

  Lys met her stare straight on, not blinking. "Lys. Lysander Veyne."

  She held his gaze for a beat, like she was filing it away for later. Then she spun on her heel, dress swishing dramatically. "Let's go. This shop's not worth our time."

  The servant shot Lys a final death glare, muttering something under her breath, before scurrying after her. The door banged shut behind them, leaving a tense silence.

  The shopkeeper poked his head out from the back room, wiping his hands on a rag, eyebrows furrowed. "What in the world was that racket? Sounded like cats fighting."

  Lys let out a small chuckle, shaking it off. "Nothing big. Just a couple of ladies with bad manners."

  The shopkeeper grunted, clearly uninterested, and shuffled back to his work, grumbling about "Huuhh, fancy folk causing trouble."

  Lys stared at the door for a second, exhaling slowly. "Well, that was something," he murmured to himself, a mix of irritation and amusement bubbling up. He turned back to the racks, but his mind was already replaying the encounter.

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