Mira's first steps on the trail felt wrong.

  Over the past few weeks, her feet had adapted to the soft forest floor, the pile of fallen leaves, the slippery tree roots, and the thick moss. But the rocks on this trail felt hard.

  Each step sent a dull vibration up her shins, continuing to her knees, and ending as a throbbing pain in her waist.

  “Don’t drag your feet,” Kars’ voice came from behind the hood of his gray cloak. The man walked two steps ahead, his posture perfectly upright as if they were taking an evening stroll in the park, not having just escaped a deadly forest maze. “You look like an old man dying.”

  “These rocks hate my feet,” Mira muttered, her voice hoarse. She tried to moisten her cracked lips, but her tongue was as dry as sandpaper. “And I do feel like I’m dying.”

  They were descending the main trade route connecting the agricultural center of Jangberg with the coastal region. Ahead of them, behind the evening mist, Port Jang lay like a spill of black ink on a green and blue canvas.

  From a distance, the city looked like a sleeping monster. Black smoke billowed from hundreds of chimneys, creating low-hanging, sulfur-smelling clouds. Its stone walls were jagged and high, marked by watchtowers whose spears glowed red in the last rays of the setting sun.

  Mira paused for a moment, staring at the scene. She was reminded of her hometown, Terakaca City, located between hills, rivers, and the sea. Although it was different and had a different architectural style, she missed the hustle and bustle of the city.

  “Keep moving, Princess,” said Kars without stopping. “You don't want to spend the night in this open field, do you?”

  Mira forced her legs to move again. She adjusted her posture so she could walk properly.

  The closer they got to the gate, the more the world changed.

  The cawing of forest crows was replaced by the sound of cart wheels pounding the road. The fresh scent of pine and ozone vanished, replaced by a more aggressive aroma, like horse manure, wet straw, and the fishy smell of the sea carried by the wind.

  A smell Mira had longed for.

  They arrived at the North Gate ten minutes later.

  The gate was like the gaping mouth of a giant stone, three men high. Large oil torches had been lit on either side, casting long shadows that danced wildly on the walls.

  The line to enter was quite short. There was only a vegetable cart with broken wheels on the side of the road and a group of adventurers who looked tired.

  Mira scanned each person. Her eyes darted wildly from the guard's spear to the dagger at the merchant's waist to the shadows behind the guard post. Her survival instincts were still sharp from her time in the forest. Mira always felt that every movement was a potential attack.

  “Stop!”

  The voice was heavy and sounded bored. A stocky gate guard stepped forward, blocking their path with the rusty tip of his spear. His leather armor was stained with oil and sweat, and he smelled like raw onions.

  “Two Kluppe coins per person for non-city residents,” said the guard, his red eyes scanning Kars and Mira alternately, from top to bottom.

  Mira's instincts twitched, forcing her hand to summon a blade of light. Mira's shoulder muscles tensed, the Intian in her body surged, and something urgent wanted to come out. She could burn the guard, she could...

  Burn everything. That voice echoed, not in her head, but all around her. Mira's face was pale, sweat pouring down her body.

  A cold hand touched Mira's wrist. It was Kars' hand.

  “Forgive my wife, sir,” Kars said, his voice suddenly changing. Now it sounded softer, slightly trembling, like a man who was afraid. “She's a little... slow. We just came from the next village to sell leather, but we were robbed on the way.”

  Kars raised his hand, showing a silver Kluppe coin.

  “This is all we have left. I hope it's enough for the entrance fee for both of us.”

  The guard stared at Kluppe's coin, then at his spear, then back at the coin. The math in his head was simple: one silver coin straight into his pocket was better than arguing and dealing with other people. Besides, the two people in front of him didn't look dangerous.

  “Come in,” the guard grunted, snatching the coin from Kars’s hand with a swift motion. “And tell your wife to stop glaring, or someone will gouge out those strange eyes of hers.”

  Then, they passed through the gate.

  Once they were behind the walls of Port Jang, the sounds of the world immediately flooded in. If the forest was an eerie silence, this city was the opposite. Sounds were everywhere, as if they would never stop. Even when compared to the first city Mira landed in to the north—Balvinne City—that city felt insignificant compared to Port Jang.

  The main streets were crowded with people even though it was already dark. Sailors who had just landed laughed loudly as they dragged wooden crates. Women in colorful dresses shouted offers of merchandise from second-story windows. Skinny dogs barked over bones in the gutters.

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  Even though she missed the hustle and bustle of the city, Mira felt dizzy. There was too much movement. Too many colors. Too many sounds. She felt suffocated. In the forest, she could see threats from a hundred meters away. Here, the danger could be anyone who bumped into her shoulder.

  “Breathe, Mira,” Kars' voice sounded in her ear, this time without a mocking tone. “Focus on one thing. Don't try to see everything at once.”

  Mira felt her instincts sharpening. She now paid more attention to her surroundings, more sensitive than ever. She had to adapt to this if she didn't want to end up like a madwoman.

  “I need something delicious to eat.” Those were Mira's first words after entering the city gates. Mira's stomach hadn't eaten anything delicious in a long time, protesting with a long growl.

  “There's a place I know,” said Kars, pointing to a two-story wooden building at the end of a dark alley. The paint was peeling, and the windows were blurred with steam and grease. Above the door hung a wooden sign swaying in the sea breeze, depicting a broken iron anchor.

  The Broken Anchor.

  The aroma coming from the crack in the door was different from the smell of the street. It was an aroma that made Mira's mouth water instantly—the smell of sizzling hot oil, fried dough, and savory spices.

  Kars pushed the heavy door open. Warmth poured out, enveloping Mira's cold body.

  The interior of the tavern was dimly lit by hanging oil lamps made from used glass bottles. The atmosphere was noisy, but it was a warm kind of noise, with the clinking of glasses, unrestrained laughter, and the sound of knives cutting meat on wooden plates.

  They took a small table in the corner of the room, far from the fireplace but strategically placed to see the entrance, Kars' habit of keeping watch, enjoying himself while keeping an eye out.

  A large waitress with an apron covered in oil stains approached their table. She didn't bring a menu. She just placed two sets of rough wooden cutlery on the table.

  “Beer or Ale?” she asked without preamble.

  “Two large glasses of Jangberg Root Beer. Cold,” Kars replied. “And bring us a large plate of Golden-Fried Ocean Bass and a double portion of Kraken Rings.”

  The waitress shrugged and walked away.

  Ten minutes felt like ten years. Mira tapped her fingers on the sticky wooden table, her eyes constantly glancing toward the kitchen, which was covered by a tattered curtain. Every time a waitress came out carrying a tray, Mira's heart leapt with hope, only to be disappointed when the tray was headed for another table.

  Finally, it was their turn.

  The waitress returned, carrying a wooden tray as wide as a soldier's shield. She slammed it down in front of them.

  Mira's eyes widened. She almost cried at the sight of the beauty before her.

  On the wooden plate were two large pieces of Ocean Bass, each as big as an adult's forearm, fried in a perfect golden yellow batter. Hot steam still rose from their crispy, cracked surface. Next to them was a mountain of thick-cut potatoes, fried until crispy, sprinkled with coarse sea salt crystals and green spice powder.

  But that's not all. On the other side of the plate, there was a pile of giant squid rings—Kraken Rings—fried in coarse orange-red breadcrumbs. The smell... oh my, it was savory, slightly spicy, and rich in fat.

  And in the middle of it all, there was a small bowl of thick white sauce mixed with pickled vegetables and chopped garlic.

  Mira didn't wait for Kars to invite her. She even forgot about the wooden fork next to her plate. She also forgot that she was a noblewoman.

  Her trembling hands grabbed a piece of hot fish. The hot oil stung her fingertips, but she didn't care. She lifted it to her mouth and bit down.

  The sound of the crispy batter was clear in her ears, followed by the sensation of the soft, white, fibrous fish meat melting on her tongue. The flavor exploded with savory, salty, and natural sweetness from the fresh fish that had never been touched by preservative ice. The fat from the cooking oil coated his dry throat, a healing balm after weeks of not eating good food.

  Mira closed her eyes and chewed greedily. She swallowed the large piece without thinking twice, letting the heat spread through her empty stomach.

  “Slow down, Mira,” Kars admonished, even though he himself was enthusiastically digging into a piece of French fries with a fervor he rarely showed. “The fish is already dead. It's not going to swim back into the sea.”

  Mira ignored him. She turned her attention to the Kraken Rings. She picked up one ring the size of a bracelet, dipped it deeply into the tartare sauce, then popped it into her mouth.

  The texture was different. The batter was crispy, but the inside was chewy. The squid resisted a little when bitten, providing an extraordinary textural satisfaction. The creamy and fresh sour taste of the sauce cut through the heavy oiliness, creating a perfect balance on the tongue. There was a slight spiciness from the paprika powder in the batter that tickled the roof of the mouth.

  Kars, who witnessed the scene, chuckled softly that Mira didn't look like a princess.

  Then, the waiter came again, placing two thick glass cups filled with dark black liquid.

  “Drink,” said Kars.

  Mira reached for the glass. It was cold, with dew dripping down the outside. On the surface of the black liquid was a thick, creamy layer of light brown foam.

  Mira brought the glass to her nose. The smell was sweet and sharp. There was a mixture of vanilla, forest honey, and various roots she didn't recognize. She tilted the glass and took a big gulp.

  Mira gasped in surprise, almost spitting out her drink. She coughed, her eyes watering.

  “What... what is that?!” Mira stared at the glass in horror, as if an insect had bitten her tongue. “This drink attacked me! It bit my tongue!”

  Kars laughed, a rare sight. “It's carbonation, silly. Trapped air bubbles. That's a characteristic of root beer. Don't they have it in the South?”

  Mira shook her head. She licked her lips, which still felt tingly. The sweet taste of sugar and vanilla lingered there, followed by a refreshingly cool sensation in her throat.

  “It tastes strange,” said Mira, then lifted the glass again. “But it's good.”

  She drank again, this time better prepared for the sensation of the “bite.” The combination of hot, oily food and cold, sweet-and-sharp drink was the strangest combination Mira had ever tasted.

  For the next twenty minutes, not a word was spoken at the table. Only the sounds of chewing, gulping, and sighs of satisfaction.

  Mira ate as if tomorrow were the end of the world. She cleaned every crumb of flour, licked her greasy fingers, and even ate the remaining white sauce with her last potato.

  When she finally leaned back in the hard wooden chair, the plate in front of her was spotless, shining as if it had just been washed.

  “I could sleep here,” Mira murmured, her eyes half-closed as she stared at the flickering oil lamp. She felt warm. For the first time in weeks, she didn’t feel the need to be on guard. She felt safe. “In this chair. Right now.”

  Kars set down his empty glass. He looked more relaxed, the lines of tension on his face slightly softened, but his eyes remained sharp and clear.

  Kars stood up, leaving behind a few pieces of Kluppe. “After your stomach, now it's time to take care of your tongue. It's time to find a Rune Master.”

  Mira forced herself to get up. Her legs felt heavy, her blood concentrated in her stomach as she digested the fatty feast.

  Kars chuckled. “Prepare yourself mentally, Princess. If you think walking down the mountain is painful, wait until you feel the Rune needles in your skull.”

  Mira gazed at her empty plate with a final longing look, sighed deeply, then followed Kars back into the darkness of Port Jang’s night.

  At least, Mira would face that pain with a full stomach.