My First Skirt Felt Far More Comfortable Than Expected
The skirt I wore for the first time was much more comfortable than I'd imagined. It wrapped gently around my roots, making me feel like just an ordinary person. I cautiously stepped out of the alley onto the main street. And froze.
Countless lanterns lit up the night, while people in flashy clothes laughed and chattered, filling the road. Tension prickled the back of my neck. People passed by. Boisterous laughter, the clop of hooves, and countless gazes. Up until now, the looks I'd gotten were all the same—people screaming in terror at the sight of a grotesque monster, backing away in fear. But this was different. Passersby glanced my way. No horror in their eyes, no awe. Just the indifference toward a random pedestrian they happened to cross paths with, or the natural acceptance of someone as part of the cityscape. My heart tickled strangely.
It was the first time since arriving in this world that I'd felt treated like a human. Like I'd come home. Even if my body had turned plant-like, this moment confirmed that the human emotions inside me couldn't be hidden. 'I... guess I just look like a normal person.'
Relief washed over me, sharpening my senses. The sweet, salty aromas wafting from a street stall. Drawn like a moth to flame, I approached.
"Mister, one of these, please."
"Sure thing! Freshly baked honey bread. It's hot—careful now! 50 lumens!"
The vendor chuckled heartily as he handed over the steaming loaf. I reached for a coin—and stopped. ...None. I blinked. Rifled through my pockets. Of course not.
"..."
The man stood there holding the bread.
"Sorry. I'll come back later."
He looked a bit disappointed but nodded without suspicion. I turned away.
"No money, huh."
Obvious, really. I hadn't carried any since starting my journey. Never even thought I needed it. After a moment's thought, I hesitantly asked a passing citizen.
"Excuse me."
A middle-aged man turned.
"Um, is there a flower shop around here?"
"Flower shop?" He pointed down a street. "One in that alley. Not sure if it's open this late, though."
"Thanks."
I gave a quick bow and headed off. Deep in the alley, I found it quicker than expected.
Flora's Flora
"...Closed."
The door was locked tight. The windows dark inside. Only the faint afterscent of a day's end lingered. A shame. I'd hoped to revive some wilted flowers and earn a bit, but no dice.
"...Hmm."
I was about to turn when a breeze carried scents. Sweet. Salty. Oil. Roasting meat. My nose twitched.
"..."
I quietly changed direction. Let's check that out.
As I walked, an idea struck. Plants. I could just grow them myself. Herbs for restaurants. Seeds. Crops. If I set my mind to it, I could produce them in droves. Super fast, too. Money? Seemed easy.
But a few steps later, I tilted my head.
"...Nah."
Thought process halted. Grow them. Make a ton. Then what?
"Storage..." I muttered to myself.
If I overproduced, it'd be pointless. They'd rot before use, tossed out. Mass production alone wasn't smart. No rush anyway. Just my own regret. Sniffing the air, I trudged on until a small sign caught my eye. Simple words up front, but that one at the end.
Rowell's Herb Shop
"...Oh."
Through the glass, dried plants hung everywhere. At the entrance: a sign reading 'Urgently Needed: High-Quality Mandragora or Purified Mana Grass.' A faint herbal scent wafted out—the earthy aroma of dried apothecary goods. Nice.
I stepped inside slowly. A bell tinkled softly.
Ding-a-ling.
"Oh, a customer."
The old man inside looked up from trimming herbs. His eyes swept over me naturally.
"Hello."
I glanced around. Dried leaves. Powders in glass jars. Roots hung up whole.
"Excuse me, how much for something like this?"
I carefully pulled a finger-thick remnant root from my bosom. Technically part of me. I infused it with a touch of my energy, and a fresh forest scent filled the shop.
Urgently Needed: High-Quality Mandragora or Purified Mana Grass
"Th-this...! No ordinary herb! Never seen this plant before, but such pure mana response! Where on earth did you get it?"
The old man's eyes bulged.
"Secret. How much will you give me for it?"
He took a deep breath to calm his excitement, adjusted his monocle.
"Hold on. Even I've never seen this species. Mana's confirmed, but untested components, toxicity—who knows? Can't buy blind. Sorry, mind if I analyze it on the bench?"
I blinked.
"Analyze? How long?"
"Reagent tests, crystal structure... At least four or five hours straight."
Too long—night would end. I'd miss exploring this world's big city.
"Just buy it cheap now?"
He stroked his beard, troubled.
"Heh, miss. I've got apothecary pride. Can't deal in unknowns...."
"C'mon, looks good even at a glance. Smells amazing."
"No. I need to know what it is. Too risky—can't pay much. Can't bend."
I pouted slightly. Never great at haggling even as a human, but I pressed.
"Still, bump it up a bit. This is rare."
Silence. He sighed, pulled a pouch from a drawer.
"Fine... Trusting my gut. 106 teras—fair?"
No clue on value, but it felt weighty. I nodded.
"Deal!"
Three bills from the herbist. Magical paper that glowed faint blue in light. One with a long inscription, two short.
'So this is money.'
The texture was familiar, but tougher, smoother. Magic gave off a pleasant mana scent.
Pocketing it, curiosity struck.
"What can I buy with one? Skewers?"
"...Huh?"
He stared blankly.
"You haggled without knowing rates? One tera buys skewers. But you do know 100 lumens make a tera, right?"
"Uh...."
He laughed in disbelief, shaking his head. Embarrassed, I bowed and bolted.
Time to track that delicious scent with my new cash.
Strolling the night streets, I noticed trees embedded between buildings. Medieval city style—live wood for pillars, supports. But they were wrecked. My chest ached. Sneaking touches as I passed, I brushed the timber columns. Wherever my hand went, withered fibers revived, hardened. No flashy sprouts, but the load-bearing wood felt healthier. I swear I heard phantom whispers of gratitude tickling my fingers.
"Alright, food time for real!"
Lighter-hearted, I headed to the plaza's best-smelling stall, skirt swishing. A smile stuck on my face. My first night as a normal person in this city was ripening nicely.
Back in the square. Dozens of stalls, fire-breathing magicians, street musicians everywhere. I approached the honey bread guy again.
"One more!"
"Back already! 50 lumens!"
I handed over a short-inscription bill from the three.
"Here's 50 lumens change. Enjoy!"
A heavy coin in my palm. Long bill, the short one I'd given, another bill, and this coin. I was getting the numbers.
"Thanks!"
I bit deep into the steaming honey bread. Sweet honey danced softly on my tongue. Not just sugar—fresh flour's nutty warmth spread thrillingly through my stems. A taste no photosynthesis could match, alive in every sense.
Munching, I wandered the square's heart. More people now.
"That too?"
Sizzling meat skewers. Fingering a 5-tera bill, I headed over. Spending, eating, blending into indifferent crowds. Who knew normalcy felt this good?
"Here you go."
"Thanks!"
One bite—juices burst. Heightened taste since turning? Every fiber, every spice note hit hard. Soul-filling flavor photosynthesis couldn't touch.
"Wow, so good...."
I demolished it, then grabbed cream-filled pastry and cool fruit juice. Sat on a plaza bench, savoring while people-watching. Laughter, chatter, drunks stumbling. No one suspected the roots under my skirt. Just a traveler enjoying the night.
'Love this.'
Feeling great, I touched the roadside tree by the bench. City mana had yellowed its leaf-tips. My touch made the trunk quiver. Green vigor returned; urban grime washed from its roots. Gratefully, it rustled leaves, sending me night breeze.