Arnold pushed the door open, the small bell above it chiming with a dull sound as he stepped inside the rundown general store. The wooden door creaked on its hinges, and a draft followed him in, carrying the smell of soil and dried leaves.

  He remembered this place. Mary had introduced it to him earlier. Apparently, the store sold daily necessities, preserved food, household items, and even remedies for illness made from so-called magical herbs.

  “Magical herbs.”

  To be honest, Arnold was intrigued. But since he had nothing that needed treatment, he dismissed it.

  ‘Probably just some weird rumour,’ Izzy thought. It reminded her of the so-called “Traditional Eastern Medicine” from her former world, where countless claims were made about roots, leaves, and powders curing everything from fatigue to terminal illness.

  Of course, Izzy had never believed in those things. She didn’t believe in anything those Eastern monkeys were selling in the first place.

  Inside the store, despite its run-down exterior, the interior was unexpectedly bright. Sunlight poured in through wide, grimy windows, illuminating rows of potted plants arranged carefully along shelves and hanging from beams.

  The atmosphere was dominated by the greenery. Vines crawled up wooden supports, leaves glossy and healthy, some even flowering.

  Rows of everyday goods filled the space: sacks of grain stacked neatly, jars of dried herbs and spices sealed with wax, coils of rope, clay bottles, candles, soap, needles, and bundles of cloth.

  At the front stood a small wooden counter, half covered in vines and pots of herbs, as if the plants themselves had claimed it.

  ‘What is this? A greenhouse?’

  Arnold could not help but think so. It was too… full of life. The air felt humid and sweet. Even the floor beneath his boots was carpeted in grass rather than floorboards.

  He looked around, scanning the interior, but saw no one.

  He had assumed the shopkeeper would always be present behind the counter, chatting endlessly with customers like in Izzy’s past life. Was that not the case here?

  “Lad.”

  A tender, gentle voice rang out from directly behind him.

  “!”

  Arnold’s heart skipped a beat!

  ‘From when?!’

  Arnold nearly jumped out of his skin. He spun around immediately to face the speaker.

  Standing behind him was a short, hunchbacked old man, his pate bald and shining. His face was a map of deep wrinkles, and a long white beard spilled down his chest.

  Arnold hadn’t even noticed him! Not even with his Field Vision active!

  The old man leaned on a quad-cane with four short legs at its base, using it for balance as he shuffled past Arnold, who hastily stepped aside.

  He was wearing a dirty old white shirt, its collar frayed and yellowed with age. His trousers faded to the color of dust, just like everyone else in this village.

  “Ho, ho, a new face…” the old man said with a soft smile, then paused when his eyes landed on Arnold’s bandaged head. He coughed lightly. “Cough… I mean to say, a new tenant.”

  He made his way behind the counter, settled himself, and stroked his beard thoughtfully.

  “Now then, lad, what might you need here?”

  Arnold narrowed his eyes. Was this old man too weak for his presence to register in Field Vision?

  Or was there something else at play here? His internal alarm shot straight to its highest level. He knew one thing better than most: old men were the most dangerous entities in the world!

  ‘Pfft… hahahahaha—agh, that hurt!!’

  Isa’s laughter burst into his mind, only to realize she was still piloting the female vessel. She immediately clutched her stomach in agony.

  ‘Stop eavesdropping.’

  Izzy facepalmed.

  Returning to the matter at hand, Arnold asked the old man he presumed to be Otto, the owner of the store, in an awkward, hesitant tone.

  “Do you sell… sanitary pads?”

  The old man’s hand froze mid-motion as he had been sorting a bundle of dried herbs. He knitted his brows and lifted his gaze toward Arnold, studying him dubiously.

  It was at that moment that a sudden realization struck Arnold like a slap to the face.

  ‘Wait… did this era even invent pads yet?’

  If they hadn't, then obviously, no one here would understand what he meant.

  Izzy possessed the knowledge of a modern world, not the intricacies of feminine hygiene in the distant past. Expecting the shopkeeper to recognize a modern term was absurd. Even worse, this was a backwater village. How would he know?

  ‘What should I do?’

  What did they call such things in this age? Worse, did they even have anything specifically meant for a woman’s "time of the month" in the first place?

  "How do you know?"

  Otto’s voice dropped to a low rumble. The temperature in the room seemed to plummet, a sudden chill settling over the verdant shop.

  ‘W… what?’

  Know what, exactly? Confused, Arnold instinctively took a step back.

  *Thud.*

  The sound of quad-cane against the glass carpet echoed ominously.

  “Who are you?”

  Otto stepped forward. His gait was deliberate and heavy, no longer the shuffle of a frail old man.

  With each step, Arnold felt an invisible pressure settle on his shoulders, making it harder to breathe. When he met the old man’s gaze, the pressure intensified, as if something unseen was pressing down on his chest.

  “How do you know…” Otto stopped directly in front of him, eyes widening abruptly. “…about our secret weapon?!”

  ...

  ...

  ...

  What the fuck?

  ‘Ah shit, I cursed,’ Izzy reflexively checked the shared mental link.

  She found no connection to her young mind. Isa must have been completely drained, too exhausted to focus on Arnold any longer.

  That was a relief.

  Arnold squinted at the hunched old man, his mind spiraling into turmoil and utter disbelief. His stomach twisted as if a chaotic knot had formed inside it.

  “W… what, uh?”

  He was not even sure his mind was functioning properly anymore.

  Silence filled the shop. The fragrance of earth and growing things seemed to intensify with every breath, as if the plants themselves were actively watching him, waiting for a response.

  It was then that Otto clapped a hand onto his shoulder—

  "Pfft! Gahahahahaha!"

  “...?”

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  “Haha, hahahahaha—uff, cough, cough!”

  Otto clutched his chest, half laughing, half coughing, tears welling in his eyes as he staggered back behind the counter—

  “Gahahahahaha!”

  And continued to laugh.

  ‘...’

  “Pfft, hah hah.”

  Finally, the laughter subsided. Otto patted his chest, took a deep breath—

  “W… what, uh? Gahahahaha!”

  "..."

  Arnold was at a loss for words.

  Seriously? This old man was just pulling a prank on him!

  ‘This… I see why Mary said he’s weird.’

  In all his life–both lives, in fact–he had never been in such a situation. What was this situation, anyway? He wasn’t even sure what kind of situation this was supposed to be.

  “Huff, huff… lad, huff, huff…”

  Otto bent forward slightly, hands on his knees, trying to rein in his laughter.

  “Pff! I haven’t had this much medicine recently, hahaha!”

  “…”

  ‘F…dammit’ Arnold tried his best to suppress the urge to curse in his mind.

  Otto stroked his long white beard once more, his demeanor shifting back to his usual friendliness.

  “But really, lad. How do you know about it?”

  He reached beneath the counter and took out a small ceramic incense burner decorated with simple, hand-carved patterns.

  Striking a match, he lit the contents, and the shop was instantly filled with a pleasant, calming scent that managed to soothe Arnold’s internal turmoil.

  ‘So that’s why this place smells like this.’ Arnold noted.

  But how was he supposed to answer that question?

  "It should not exist... yet," Otto murmured, gazing up at him as he blew out the match.

  “Are you, an outsider?” He paused, then waved it off. “No, never mind.”

  ‘Outsider?’

  Otto returned to his usual gentle smile, as if the bizarre prank just moments ago had never happened at all.

  He retreated into a small backroom behind the counter. The door creaked softly as it closed, and his voice drifted out amidst the sound of rummaging.

  "You are in luck, Lad. I happen to have some remaining stock."

  Moments later, he emerged, holding wrapped packages in his two hands.

  "This, my boy, is the very pinnacle of innovation. Called the 'sanitary belt', it requires a belt to secure to the waist," he prattled on, his eyes gleaming with the pride of a father showing off his prodigy. “Smooth, comfortable, absorption, infused with healing herbs, and layered with specialized fabrics. Helps soothe irritation, prevents rashes, and even speeds up recovery!”

  Enthusiasm spilling out of him as he spoke.

  "It’s still a prototype, a secret we are still examining and refining, preparing to launch upon the market."

  With a gentle thud, he set the packages on the counter, then leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

  "The pads are completely nature-friendly. A completely new revolution!” He slapped the counter and shouted.

  “...”

  Arnold stared at the packages in silence.

  ‘For a sanitary product… that is way too dramatic.’ he thought.

  ‘So that’s why he called it a "secret weapon"?’ Absurd as it sounded, Arnold could already imagine the impact this would have if it were released publicly. For women in this era, this truly was revolutionary.

  I had intended to sell this batch to the Madam,” Otto added, his tone softening slightly as he shook his head. “But alas, the madam has been in poor health. I’m unable to secure an audience with her."

  He slid the packages closer toward Arnold.

  Arnold wanted to examine it more closely, but doing so right in front of this old man’s sparkling, expectant eyes was… certainly not on his to-do list.

  ‘Whatever. I’m rich.’

  He straightened himself and asked.

  “How much?”

  “For you…”

  Otto stroked his beard, pondered thoughtfully, then raised a single finger.

  “One shilling a dozen.”

  ‘A dozen?’ That was a strange way to put it.

  “How many is a dozen?”

  “12.”

  ‘A shilling for only 12? That’s very expensive.’ Arnold flicked six silver coins onto the counter and snatched up six of these packages.

  Business concluded, he turned around immediately, eager to leave this fragrant, bizarre shop as quickly as possible.

  “Not so soon, young lad.”

  Otto’s voice stopped him mid-step. The shopkeeper smiled, crouching down behind the counter to rummage for something beneath.

  "A little advice for you, young lad," he said casually, still rummaging. “That item in your hand… it is a delicate subject for the fairer sex. You would do well to be circumspect."

  Arnold furrowed his brows.

  “Of course I know that. Why—”

  “It may be more serious than you think,” Otto cut him off. “A taboo, I would say.”

  ‘More serious?’ Arnold considered the words for a moment. Coming from a modern world, he had never thought of it as anything more than an inconvenience, so the gravity of the situation didn't immediately register in his mind.

  Otto straightened up and opened a small container filled with cards and slips of parchment.

  "If you were to mention such things in town, even if it were for your own mother, you would be looked down upon. Your status as a gentleman would evaporate in an instant. People will ridicule you, and every woman of standing would shun your presence."

  Arnold’s eyes widened.

  ‘That serious?’

  “Needless to say, the church is trying to change that worldview, to teach that it is not…” He coughed lightly. “…a punishment from the Monarch, but merely an illness.”

  ‘It’s not an illness,’ Arnold wincing slightly, but he kept the correction to himself.

  Still, he could not help but admit one thing. Medical understanding in this world was far more advanced than he had initially expected.

  Otto picked up a pristine white card from the container and polished it against his sleeve. The surface was smooth and glossy, catching the light as he tilted it between his fingers.

  When he was satisfied, he slid it across the counter toward Arnold.

  ‘What is this?’

  An advertisement? Out of nowhere?

  "That is why vendors such as myself exist, Lad. Once you reach another city, simply look for a store bearing this sign on its board.”

  Arnold took the card and examined it more closely.

  It was certainly not metal, perhaps a high-quality cardstock. On its surface was a simple engraving: a small island rising from the sea, a hill at its center, and atop that hill a triangular flag fluttering in an invisible wind.

  "With that in hand, you may purchase anything you desire with utmost discretion, at a fair price," Otto murmured, a cryptic smirk playing on his lips. "Besides humans, naturally."

  ‘Besides humans? Why is there a need to clarify that? And "anything," really?’

  Before he could question the implication, Otto reached beneath the counter again and produced two more items: a jar filled with white powder and a plain brown pouch tied with string.

  "Here. For you."

  Arnold raised an eyebrow, eyeing the items warily.

  Otto pointed at the jar first, stroking his beard as he explained, “It’s a drink mix made with mild healing herbs. Mix it with warm water and it will improve her condition.”

  ‘How does he know…never mind.’ The fact that Arnold was purchasing sanitary products was self-explanatory enough.

  But why is he so thoughtful? Arnold looked down at the jar skeptically. He was hesitant; accepting medicine from a strange old man in a strange shop felt risky.

  “And this pouch,” Otto went on, lifting it between his fingers, "It is excellent for your..." He pointed downward and smirked.

  “…”

  This fucking old man…

  ‘Shit.’

  Izzy instinctively checked the shared mind. Relief washed over her when she realized Isa was lurking elsewhere and not actively observing.

  "Hahaha! I am merely jesting! Tch, tch, young folk these days, so stiff."

  Otto shook his head, the light gleaming off his bald pate.

  “This pouch here. If you ever feel lost on your path, open it. It may aid you in some manner."

  “Why are you giving them to me?” Arnold eyed the pouch with suspicion. He knew better than to accept sweets from strangers. Who knew what lay inside?

  But Otto only waved a hand in dismissal.

  "You are thinking too much, lad. Keep that up and wrinkles will spread across your face. You won’t stay young like me if you keep frowning.”

  "..."

  ‘Is he serious?’ Arnold focused on the old man’s hunchbacked figure.

  ‘Is that what he called “young”?’

  Even his bald head was practically shining!

  ‘...’

  Well, Izzy could always abandon this body and take another if Arnold ever grew old.

  “Just think of it as a welcoming gift for a new customer,” Otto said, already turning away and heading back toward the small room behind the counter.

  ‘Aren’t there too many gifts for a single purchase?’

  Arnold looked at the man's retreating back questionably. Still, a gift was a gift. Free items were king. Whether they were authentic or not, he would determine them later.

  "Now begone. Do not disturb an old man's rest."

  Arnold walked out of the store, the bell chiming his exit, his head swimming with confusion.

  ‘Lost? What does that even mean?’

  So cryptic! Why did he explain nothing clearly?! That old man was utterly, so infuriating! Izzy rarely lost her composure, but she had to admit, she was ill-equipped to deal with such a man.

  ‘As expected, old men are dangerous creatures…’

  He was far worse than Isa, or even Mary… how surprising!

  ‘Uggh.’ Izzy mentally clutched her head.

  ‘Let us not approach him again, lest I lose my mind entirely.’

  With a heavy sigh, Izzy guided Arnold back toward the mansion.