Gray Market Makeover
The Gray Market in the Outer Rim reeked of synthetic oil and unidentifiable stenches mingling in the streets. Under a flickering old hologram sign reading "Request Office," I faced a greedy-looking old man through a haze of thick cigarette smoke.
"So, you're looking for a person?" The old man cackled, baring his yellowed teeth. "Wild Space. That's where only lunatics go. Finding an explorer who walked in on their own two feet and came back alive..."
"Is there one or not?" I asked curtly.
My face, disguised with bio-skin, twisted into a menacing scowl, exuding a killer's aura that wasn't there before. The old man didn't pry into my identity or haggle over price.
"There is, sure. This business attracts every kind of nutjob. But lining up that caliber takes time. They're usually missing... or already in the belly of some space monster."
"How long?"
"Three, four hours. Go browse the market in the meantime. I'll contact you."
I tossed him a credit chip as an advance and left the shop. As the door shut, the noisy clamor of the Gray Market crashed over me again. Transport drones swarmed overhead, and the streets teemed with cyborg mercenaries and alien species bumping shoulders.
"Whoa..."
Eve, clutching my hand, couldn't tear her eyes away. Glowing hologram ads, bizarre aliens she'd never seen, steam rising from street food. I'd left her on the Night Raven back at Scarab Station, so this was all a wondrous new world to her.
While Eve was distracted, my eyes fixed on something else: her clothes. The baggy lab suit from the research facility escape, topped with a ragged shirt and pants I'd scavenged from the F-33 Farm Planet, and a drab gray hood to hide her features. Fugitives or not, she looked too pitiful. No wonder the checkpoint guard had asked if she was for sale.
This won't do.
I stopped and looked down at Eve's grubby sleeves. Oblivious, she was mesmerized by a passing lizardman's tail.
"Eve."
"Hm?"
"Let's go shopping."
"Shopping? What's that?"
"Wandering around and picking stuff out."
Eve's eyes widened, then curved into happy crescents.
*
We scoured every clothing store in sight. But nothing fit. This was a den of outlaws—nothing but brutal gear for sale. Armored vests, adult costumes, tactical equipment. No sizes for a ten-year-old, let alone designs that matched her innocence.
"This one's too big... this one's too heavy..."
I sighed, setting down what barely qualified as clothes—more like armor. Eve, finding everything fascinating, just giggled and tugged my arm.
[Tch tch. You think those rags suit Lady Eve? What zero sense.]
"Then you find something."
As we wandered aimlessly through the shopping district, a clean, out-of-place shop caught my eye at the alley's end. 『Arachne's Thread』
True to its vibe, the clothes visible through the window stood out from the crude local wares—delicate, soft-looking.
I opened the door as if drawn by a spell.
"Welcome~ It's been ages since a human customer."
From behind a dim workbench, the owner emerged. Upper body like an elegant woman, lower like a massive spider—an Arachne. Her six arms worked busily weaving fabric: two sewing, two cutting, two holding cloth.
"What're you after? Bulletproof suit? Camo cloak?"
Her six eyes scanned me, then locked on Eve peeking from behind. They sparkled.
"Oh my!"
The Arachne dropped everything and zipped to Eve.
"Goodness, goodness! It's been forever!"
She rubbed her many hands, circling Eve excitedly.
"In this dump of drab lumps, such a cute, squishy little life! Look at that skin texture! And those big eyes!"
"Uh... miss?"
"Hush! Inspiration's striking!"
She grabbed Eve's shoulders.
"Sweetie, what's your name?"
"Eve..."
"Eve! Pretty name too. Off with these rag scraps—it's a crime! An insult to this cuteness!"
The Arachne dashed behind the workbench, flinging clothes everywhere—"This? No, this?!"—before pulling out a gem.
"Here! My masterpiece's masterpiece! Saved it for the perfect owner someday!"
She unfurled it: a vibrant pastel outfit clashing with the Gray Market's gloom. A super-soft pink oversized hoodie made of special fiber. The hood had long floppy bunny ears; the butt sported a cute round tail. Matching white furry boots and plush cotton pants.
"Try it on! Quick!"
Eve looked up at me. I nodded; she grabbed it and ducked into the changing room.
Moments later, the curtain parted.
"......"
Me, Nahibi, and the Arachne all held our breath.
"How's it look, Kal? Does it suit me?"
Eve stepped out shyly. The baggy pink hoodie draped to her knees; hood up, bunny ears flopped. Long sleeves hid all but her fingertips. She pattered over in white boots, then spun with arms wide. Ears flapped, tail swished.
"Huh?"
Something in my heart took a direct hit.
[......I admit it. This is cheating. She could conquer the universe like that.]
"Perfect! The best! So cuuuute!"
The Arachne seal-clapped with all six hands.
"This is it! Exactly what I dreamed of! A pure essence purifying the Outer Rim's drabness!"
Snapping out of it, I pulled out my wallet.
"How much? I'll take it."
"Money? Keep it!"
She waved it off.
"Don't need cash. My creation found its owner—that's reward enough. I should pay you! Look at that fit! Art!"
Arachnes were art-obsessed lunatics, as rumored. But the quality was too high for free—special fibers meant top functionality.
"Still, can't just take it..."
As I hesitated, she asked Eve.
"Little miss, like the clothes?"
"Yeah! Super soft and comfy, so I love it! Thanks, spider sis!"
Eve beamed. The Arachne melted.
I told Eve, "Thanks aren't just words, right? Daddy taught you."
"Oh, right!"
Eve clasped hands over her navel, bowed 90 degrees in the belly-button greeting I'd taught her.
"Thank you for the pretty clothes!"
Bow. Pink bunny ears flopped forward, then boinged back.
"KyaAaAah!"
The Arachne clutched her heart, collapsing dramatically.
"Too cute! My heart's stopping!"
[Urgh... Lady Eve...]
My lips twitched despite myself. Tension from being fugitives, complications over "constellation"—all melted before this pink bunny cuteness.
We politely declined as the Arachne tried stuffing Eve's pockets with candy, ribbons, and trinkets, then left.
Shopping done, stomachs growled. We headed to the food district—a lively hub of diverse species chowing down. We took a corner booth.
"Everything on the menu, one of each."
The android waiter's eyes blinked. Soon, plates towered like a mountain: synthetic steak, alien fish fry, nutrient porridge, mystery stir-fry...
"Itadakimasu!"
Eve dug in with fork and knife, tiny mouth chomping nonstop. Cheeks ballooned hamster-style. Plates emptied one by one, stacking neatly.
Nearby tables started staring.
"Check that kid. Where's it all going?"
"Seriously, that much?"
"But... she eats so cutely."
Watching Eve devour happily, a gruff chef emerged with a plate.
"Who the hell's polishing off my food like that?!"
He laughed heartily at her empty plates.
"Hah! A customer who makes cooking fun! Lately, folks just pick at it. Kiddo, how's it taste?"
"Yummy!"
Eve thumbs-upped, sauce on her lips.
"Yeah? Glad you like it! On the house—half off today! And service!"
He piled on a massive drumstick.
For a moment, anxiety over pursuit faded into peaceful bliss. Seeing Eve happy.
Post-meal, heading back to the request office, we passed a massive arena.
"Woooaaah—!"
Cheers echoed beyond the dome. The outer wall's giant screen flashed lurid ads.
On screen: a half-machine colossal feline beast and tiger-headed beastman warrior snarling.
"Kal, what's a chimera tiger?"
Eve tilted her head, pink bunny hood on.
I recalled army days: fat cats scavenging base leftovers, growing leopard-sized.
"Exists. A cat that broke species limits. Scary one."
[Hoh. Evolved beyond limits. Fine specimen.]
"Pfft. Yeah. Impressive guy."
I shook my head, quickening pace. Time was up.
*
Back at the dim request office, a stranger stood by the old man. He beckoned slyly as we entered.
"Perfect timing. Introductions."
The man he pointed to towered over me. Worn but maintained explorer suit, massive backpack, old plasma rifle slung. Bushy beard, deep wrinkles—above all, alive eyes. Those of one who's danced with death countless times.
"This is Bani. Outer Rim vet explorer. Seasoned madman."
Bani rumbled deeply.
"Old timer, mouth runs too much."
"Bani, this is your mercenary."
He eyed me, then twitched at Eve. Pink bunny kid with rough outlaw. Odd pair twisted his lips.
"Mercenary? I just needed a Wild Space explorer."
We glared at the old man.
"Sheesh, dense folks. Listen."
He spread a map.
"Bani, you need muscle to find your lost survey ship at Wild Space edge? Desperate enough for arena ads."
Bani nodded.
"And this guy..."
The info broker eyed me oddly.
"Wanders Outer Rim with kid daughter, insists on Wild Space himself. Lunatic."
He grinned.
"Think: either crazy, or insanely confident. Right?"
It clicked. He'd bundled us.
Bani scanned my arms, bio-skin eyes intently.
"Hm..."
He glanced at Eve. His harsh gaze softened—like missing someone.
Not irresponsible or rotten core. My gut said so.
"Not a merc applicant, but I pull weight. Guide the way, we're good."
I extended a rough hand first.
"Didn't expect this combo. Old man said I lost my ship first—Wild Space intel included. If you're..."
"Kal! I'm Eve."
Eve chirped.
"Won't hurt you, Kal."
I grinned under bio-skin, gripping. Calluses met calluses. Heavy grip.
"Deal. Trade what we need."
"Good. Call me Bani."