Sophie had just pulled the curtain back and stepped out of the dressing room when a flurry of noisy conversation drifted down the hallway.
“Officer, that’s her! There is definitely something wrong with that woman. She entered the shop alone, wearing that creepy mask, and she didn’t even have a companion leash.”
It was the voice of the plump proprietress who had just taken her money.
Two soldiers from the Silvervein City Patrol, dressed in standard-issue studded leather armor, stood before the counter.
Amos and Bart both held their standard-issue longswords half-unsheathed, their expressions solemn.
“I could tell right away. People who hide their faces like that have an eighty percent chance of being lepers with terminal cases, trying to spread the plague in the city.” The proprietress, Martha, pointed her finger wildly in the air, her excitement growing as she spoke. “Or maybe she’s a hidden New Moon cultist, the kind that comes out at night to kidnap people for sacrifices!”
“Oh, right! She could also be a fugitive on the run! Or maybe a cultivator from the northern snowfields, or an exiled thug.”
“She might even be a black market smuggler! That tattered cloak of hers is probably hiding all sorts of contraband! For all we know, she’s a habitual thief who specifically targets high-end shops like mine! Or maybe she’s one of those humanoid monsters that turns unlucky souls into stone!”
Martha paused to catch her breath before continuing, “Looking at how suspicious she is, she could be an illegal alchemist ready to blow our city sky-high at any moment! Worst of all, she’s all alone. How did she even get into the city? She must be a Night Companion killer who murdered her own partner.”
Sophie: ?
I just came here to buy some clothes. What is wrong with you people?
“Wait a minute!”
The leper, New Moon cultist, black market smuggler, thief, humanoid monster, illegal alchemist, and partner-murdering Sophie let out a shout and strode forward.
“I told you before, my companion had to leave for urgent business,” Sophie said helplessly as she stood before the three of them. “First of all, you can’t hide the smell of leprosy. Aside from the scent of lavender from your shop, I don’t have even a hint of medicinal smell on me.”
“Secondly, would New Moon cultists really go shopping for clothes during the day? Don’t they have their own robes to wear? The same goes for fugitives and spies. Wouldn't they prepare beforehand instead of coming into the city specifically to buy clothes?”
“As for being a monster, that’s just pure nonsense!”
“And as for being a thief, are you missing even a single thread? Regarding the illegal alchemist and murderer claims, please provide some evidence first. Why are you slandering an innocent person out of thin air?”
Sophie felt she had made herself clear enough.
However, Martha and the two patrolmen only stared at her coldly.
“Sophistry,” Amos snorted, fully unsheathing his longsword and pointing the tip toward Sophie’s feet. “If you’re so innocent, why are you so defensive?”
Sophie: “?”
“Being alone on the main road, wearing a mask, and having no Night Companion—that is an original sin in itself,” Bart added. “Come with us to the dungeon. We’ll have plenty of time to figure out your identity there.”
The proprietress, Martha, crossed her arms behind them, her face full of smug satisfaction. “Hurry up and arrest this dangerous element! My shop has no room for such a menace.”
This wretched woman just took three of my Silver Moon coins.
Sophie took a deep breath.
“Is there no possibility of resolving this through communication?”
She looked up at the two guards.
“Only if you have a way to prove your innocence.” Bart made a gesture for money. “Otherwise...”
“Take off that mask first, then come with us to the dungeon to give a proper account of yourself,” Amos said.
Extortion? Are they extorting me?
Sophie understood now.
Communication had failed.
I planned to get along with you as an ordinary person, but all I got in return was coldness and suspicion.
Sophie gave a soft huff.
“I can take off the mask, but I don’t want to be stared at like a monkey out here. Let’s go into the dressing room.”
With that, she turned and walked back into the shop.
“Hmph, don’t think you can pull any tricks!” Amos, confident in his armor and the presence of his companion, wasn’t afraid of a lone, unarmed woman at all. He strode in after Sophie.
Bart followed closely behind.
Even the proprietress, Martha, driven by curiosity and a desire to claim credit, followed them in.
Inside the dressing room, the polished brass full-length mirror reflected the four of them.
“Fine then. Since you’re so arrogant and rude, it’s time you were properly disciplined.”
Sophie turned around, her back to the large brass mirror, and faced the three stubborn fools.
“Face me.”
She removed the mask and tossed it onto the rug.
Sophie stopped pretending.
In that instant, the three of them saw Sophie’s face.
A glimpse of the divine.
The longsword slipped from Amos’s hand. His eyes, which had been filled with ferocity and contempt, instantly turned bloodshot. His pupils dilated to the extreme, and his breathing suddenly became as heavy as a bellows.
“I... I deserve to die!”
The big, burly man’s knees buckled, and he fell heavily to the ground with a thud. He covered his face with his hands, tears and snot streaming down.
“I actually pointed a sword at you! What an absolute blasphemy! Goddess, please forgive my sacrilege...”
“I... I also deserve to die,” Bart wailed. The tall, thin young soldier collapsed directly onto the floor.
“I just committed a sacrilege against a deity. Please allow me to become the dirt beneath your feet. Please, step on me as hard as you can...”
Sophie: I’m not your 'bro,' and why on earth would I reward you like that?
At that moment, Sophie’s gaze passed over the two irrational patrolmen and landed on the proprietress, Martha, at the very back.
Martha’s eyes were wide.
She stumbled forward and fell, her hands clutching her skirt tightly as she trembled with excitement.
“So beautiful... how can such a perfect being exist in this world...”
“Your hair is a moonlight brocade that a pathetic tailor like me could never weave in a lifetime; your skin is the most sacred first snow atop a mountain peak; your eyes are more dazzling than the Red Moon in the sky.”
“I am so incredibly sorry for offending you just now, Goddess. Please forgive me... no, please punish me!”
“As long as you know,” Sophie chuckled.
An Oil-paper Umbrella, imbued with the [Indestructible] property and crafted with the Hero's heart, appeared out of thin air in her right hand.
“Goddess, what is that?” Amos asked.
“It’s a handy-dandy tool I’ll be using in a moment.”
“Now, face the wall.”
“Line up with your backs to me. If anyone dares to take even a single peek, I will revoke your privilege to look at me.”
Hearing that they might lose the privilege of gazing upon their goddess, the three of them instantly fell silent and turned around with crisp movements.
“Now then, Great Memory Restoration Technique, activate.”
Sophie raised the Oil-paper Umbrella high.
Bang.
Rate on N.U.
