2. Spider Woman Yurakne (5)
2. Spider Woman Yurakne (5)
I opened the Status Window.
Yurakne's Affection level was still at 3.
Hadn't moved a single point.
Forget going up—I was lucky it hadn't dropped.
When I first offered to help, I'd assumed there'd be a potato knife or a peeler—one of those double-bladed things you just zip-zip across the skin. A world with steamships and airships was bound to have a simple tool like that.
It didn't.
Even when I described one to Yurakne, she looked at me like she'd never heard of such a thing.
That's when it hit me.
The potato peeler wasn't invented until the early twentieth century, I realized. Nothing to do with the pace of technology—it took someone's random flash of inspiration to bring it into existence.
For a measly potato without a peeler, you just use a knife. But I'd only just learned to walk and use my fingers again. Handling a blade was out of the question.
Backing out felt impossible, so I forced myself to try, and the result was... that disaster.
Mortifying.
I almost felt sorry for the real Wonderstein. The charismatic embodiment of evil, utterly defeated by a potato.
Bloop.
Trait: Finger Peeler
Application Area: Fingers
Effect: Forms a double bone blade between the index and middle fingers. Excellent for peeling potatoes and fruit!
Required Resource: [Devolut 1]
An auto-recommendation again.
I dismissed the message.
Way too late.
Just then, Yurakne emerged from the tent.
"Troupe Leader... is this good enough?"
Wearing her coat, she turned in a full circle.
The coat completely concealed her back and waist.
Her four extra arms lay flat against her body, impossible to detect.
With them hidden like this, she looked no different from anyone else. I finally understood how she'd managed to go to the market all this time.
"You look beautiful."
"You... think so?"
Even as a social outcast back in the real world, I knew the rule: when a woman tries on clothes and asks you how she looks, you give a compliment. No exceptions.
Come on, Affection level—go up!
She nodded as if reassured, but the smile she wore had a lonely edge.
Huh. Was the compliment too generic? Still, laying it on thick over a worn traveling cloak seemed ridiculous...
Ahem. And honestly...
That was when my mouth moved on its own.
"Though I think I preferred the view without it."
"...Excuse me?"
She stared at me, baffled.
Ah, hell!
Damn that Smiling Man!
I'd blurted out my honest thoughts without even realizing it!
The "Smiling Man" trait was a double-edged thing—it kept my composure steady while leaving my self-control paper-thin.
Which meant it suppressed impulsive curses and rage, but let my innermost thoughts slip out like it was nothing.
Hadn't I already done the same thing at the viscountess's manor, blurting out that painfully blunt "May I touch you?"
This was no different.
Honestly, I did prefer how she looked without the coat.
Was having extra arms really all that repulsive? Half the world spent their days wishing they had more hands and couldn't get them.
But I wasn't supposed to say it to her.
The Monster Circus Troupe was full of people cast out by society for their unnatural appearances.
I knew from TT1 how much fury they'd aimed at their own transformed bodies. Consumed by madness, they'd cursed and loathed themselves.
And here I was, telling her I liked it better that way.
Right. Wonderstein could say that. He was the kind of bastard who enjoyed warping people into monstrous forms.
But this wasn't going to raise her Affection level.
"L-let's... get going."
Yurakne brushed past me and strode ahead.
I'd blown it.
Completely blown it.
Irreparably blown it.
Stole a glance at her as she walked ahead. She kept looking back at me, clearly uncomfortable that I was following.
My grand escort plan, and I'd wrecked it this badly...
At least her Affection level hadn't dropped. But it was probably hanging by a thread.
We walked the whole way to the fish market in silence.
"T-Troupe Leader... it's over there."
The riverfront had crept up on us while we walked.
The harsh glare of searchlights cut deep into the lingering darkness of dawn. The reek of fish and the wet squelch of boots tangled together in chaos. The docks were swarming with people.
- Pier 9, departing! Pier 9, departing!
- Pier 3, need one relief man, fast!
- Pier 4, arriving! Pier 4, arriving!
"It's been a while since I've been to the fish market."
She kept an awkward distance—not walking beside me, not walking apart, just somewhere in between. Too scared to get close, too worried about offending me to pull away.
I had to salvage this somehow.
I spoke first.
"Yurakne, what kind of fish were you thinking of buying?"
"Well... mullet's in season, that would be good. You can grill it, braise it. A blue crab stew would work, too. Is there... something you would prefer?"
"I'm not sure. Hm... do they carry mackerel?"
I threw out the one fish name I actually knew.
Yurakne gave me an odd look.
"Mackerel usually comes up from the estuary already salted. It's mostly bulk-traded at the big markets. You'll almost never see it fresh at a little dock market like this. You'd have better luck at the daytime fish stalls."
"That's our Yurakne. I had no idea."
"You... think so?"
A vague unease lingered on her face. Talking to Wonderstein was clearly a strain no matter what.
She moved briskly between the auction boards, inspecting the goods.
"Pier 3! Mullet, two hundred kilos!"
"Pier 5! Spanish mackerel, one hundred kilos! Mullet, one hundred twenty kilos!"
"Pier Number 2! Blue crab, two hundred fifty kilos!"
The auctioneers shouted at the top of their lungs every time a boat unloaded. Axville was a small dock, so the fish market wasn't large either. Most buyers were cart vendors and local restaurant owners.
Yurakne and I wedged ourselves into the crowd to watch the auction.
"Five Spanish mackerel, twelve-point-four kilos, starting at one hundred Roti. Yes, one hundred two. One hundred three. One hundred five. One hundred eight! One hundred eight going once— yes! One hundred ten. One hundred twelve! One hundred fifteen! One hundred seventeen! One hundred nineteen! One hundred nineteen, do I hear more? No? Sold, one hundred nineteen!"
The auctioneer scrawled something on a slip and handed it to the winning bidder. The bidder passed the slip and the cash to the stevedore, received the goods, and loaded them onto a cart. Behind the auctioneer, a worker was already hauling out the next basket of fish.
The whole process took less than ten seconds.
Setting the price, transferring the goods, bringing in the next lot—the seamless, fluid rhythm reminded me of a circus act.
Even in a modest place like this, you found masters of their craft.
The merchants inspected the fish, gave a nod or a shake of the head, flicked at their abacuses, fired off rapid hand signals to the person beside them. A novice couldn't find an opening.
How the hell do you even do this?
While I stood there like an idiot, the auctioneer had already weighed the next batch. His fingers darted across the scale, nudging the counterweights back and forth.
"Eight mullet... weight is... ten-point-five kilos!"
The mullet Yurakne had been looking for.
"That's mullet. Aren't you going to bid?"
"That batch... I think we should skip."
"Why?"
She hesitated a moment before answering.
"Two out of the eight have hemorrhaging. See those dark patches, hidden under the belly? They got caught on the metal edge of the net—the flesh is crushed. And one of them's been dead for a while. You can tell by the eyes. It's already started to rot."
Her crisp, matter-of-fact analysis made me nod without thinking.
Was it all those years as a housewife? She'd assessed every fish in that basket in the span of a breath.
I wasn't the only one caught off guard. The auctioneer and every buyer around us had turned to stare at her. None of them looked impressed. A distinct what-the-hell showed in their eyes.
The auctioneer hurled his cap to the ground and jabbed a finger at Yurakne.
"You son of a bitch—what the hell're you trying to pull? You don't know the unwritten rules of an auction? Huh? Keep your goddamn mouth shut! Prices by fingers only! Who the hell let you crawl in here and piss all over my business?"
There were unwritten rules here?
The shift in the air and the color draining from Yurakne's face told me she really had made a mistake. But there was no way someone as familiar with the market as her wouldn't know the rules. She'd slipped up because...
Of me.
It was my fault for asking. Could she really refuse to answer when Wonderstein asked a question?
"Well? What's it gonna be!"
The auctioneer swaggered toward her, shoulders rolling, menacing. Yurakne flinched backward, frightened.
So my tagging along really had made everything worse.
Raising her Affection level was already a lost cause. I let out an internal sigh and stepped between them.
"The—the hell? Who're you?"
"I'm... her husband."
Went with the simplest excuse instead of some convoluted explanation.
A married couple.
That neatly covered both our relationship and why I was stepping in.
"H-her husband? F-f-fine, so what? Huh? Who told you to stick your nose into the auction, huh? Keep your damn wife in line!"
Lot of noise from a man peddling defective goods.
Irritating, but I kept my smile cool. The Smiling Man didn't waver over nonsense like this.
"I'll pay double."
"Wh... what did you... say?"
"I just have to pay the price, don't I? Double. So, a hundred and sixty Roti."
The auctioneer gaped at me.
From what Yurakne had explained, the dockside bought at the minimum auction price wholesale and pocketed anything above that. Double the minimum meant a full hundred percent profit. A glance around told me none of the other auctions nearby had cleared even thirty percent over. From his perspective, this was free money.
"Ah, well... if the gentleman is willing to pay, then... understood. B-but don't let it happen again. Thought you were a saboteur sent by a competitor. Everyone here's real touchy about that sort of thing, haha...."
He backed off fast. All that heat from a moment ago dissolved into nothing.
So money really did solve everything.
The auctioneer called the sale, and a worker stacked the fish neatly into a basket.
"Who's that man?"
"He sure throws cash around easy. Got that noble look about him, too. Some kind of aristocrat?"
"The woman's pretty, too."
"A real picture-perfect couple."
People murmured as they looked us over.
Yurakne came up beside me and bowed her head.
"I-I'm sorry. That was an unnecessary expense because of me...."
"Haha, don't worry. We're loaded, remember?"
She checked the people around us, then whispered.
"Um, but... why did you say we were... married?"
"It just slipped out. Seemed like the most natural thing at the time. I'm sorry if it bothered you."
"N-no! If anything, this whole thing happened because of me...."
"It happened because I asked you a question in the first place. Heh. If something like this comes up again, just speak freely. It's fine."
"...Understood."
She looked at me with an expression full of tangled emotions. Like she was still trying to figure out what my angle was.
I recognized that wall from dealing with Ella. Back then, I'd helped with good intentions and gotten suspicion in return.
A day or two of effort wasn't going to change anything.
I decided not to rush. Take it slow. There was still plenty of time.
"That aside... would you mind coming a little closer?"
"What?"
"It looks strange. A married couple standing like this."
People kept stealing glances at us. And it wasn't just our appearances. A wife hovering awkwardly at a distance from her husband looked unnatural, no matter who saw it.
"That's why you had to raise your voice earlier—you were too far away."
"Ah...."
A flicker of agreement crossed her hesitant face. I extended my arm.
"Come on."
"...Okay."
Two steps closer would be plenty. That was what I was thinking.
One step. Two steps...
But she didn't stop there.
Swoosh.
A sweep of violet hair brushed across my vision. Something soft pressed against my side. A completely unforeseen ambush.
She stepped right into my arms.
Pressed her body flush against mine.
Close enough that I could feel her pulse. My outstretched arm naturally settled around her shoulders.
"L-like... this?"
"..."
"Troupe... Leader?"
"..."
I wasn't used to someone closing in that suddenly. I nearly shoved her away by reflex.
But The Smiling Man kept my composure locked in place. I showed no trace of fluster, just maintained a calm smile.
"I only meant for you to come as close as my arm reached."
"Uh... what? Eek!"
The Spider Woman finally caught up to the situation. Her face blazed bright red.