Chapter 62: Goosebumps Curse.
“Also, I get your love for beauty, but sporting a head full of blooming Corona Flowers here is a bit much,” Skull remarked, half-teasing.
Suna realized, in her rush to return, she’d forgotten to trim the golden-brown branches and Corona Flowers sprouting from her head due to overusing her blessing.
“Ehehe! No wonder my head felt itchy,” she said, laughing awkwardly.
Using water blades, Suna deftly sliced off the flowers, avoiding every strand of her golden hair without needing a mirror.
As she trimmed, some tavern patrons eyed the glowing flowers curiously, while others gleamed with greed, sensing their magical aura.
Since the first-floor crowd posed no threat, Suna ignored their stares.
But the guests dining on the second-floor platform, some leaning over the edge to watch, were different. Their calculated, greedy gazes—masked by calm scrutiny—sent a chill through her.
In the Rust District, those who held power were either cunning, resilient, or ruthless. Being on their radar was trouble.
Suna realized the immense value of her wildly sprouting Corona Flowers.
Finishing her trimming and stowing the flowers in her storage pouch, she telepathically urged Skull to leave.
[Skull, I give up. Let’s talk later. It’s late, and if we linger, you’ll have a hard time explaining to your friends.]
Skull, sensing the increasingly unstable atmosphere, didn’t argue.
“Fine, we’re done here. Let’s not waste time and talk later.”
Suna caught his cue to shift toward leaving.
“You’re right. Let’s head home.”
She clapped a hand on Skull’s shoulder.
The moment she did, a blurry veil seemed to shroud the vision of most onlookers.
When their sight cleared, Suna and Skull had vanished.
As confused patrons muttered or stood to search, Moonlit Scale, leaning on the second-floor railing with her elbows, sipped her whiskey.
“Tonight’s guests were quite interesting… Oh, that saintess has an extra request.”
Muttering, Moonlit Scale received Suna’s telepathic message: Find capable fighters forced into this situation—adventurers, ex-knights, or persecuted demi-humans.
“She comes here for intel but wants reliable, good-hearted teammates. Hm, I know a few good candidates… I’m looking forward to our next meeting.”
Moonlit Scale’s sly grin hinted at her plan to turn the tables on Suna.
Meanwhile, Suna, now targeted by the Viper’s Tear’s dangerous Twelve Serpent Scales cadre, shivered as she dragged Skull through the sparsely populated nighttime streets, goosebumps rising.
“Tch, did someone curse me? Why the sudden goosebumps?”
Skull quipped, “Who’d bother casting a curse just to give you goosebumps?”
“My curse resistance is strong. A curse that’d freeze a silver-tier only gives me goosebumps,” Suna retorted.
Skull felt foolish for suggesting it. A saintess wouldn’t be fazed by ordinary curses.
After a brief silence, assessing their location by the surrounding buildings, Skull changed the topic.
“By the way, Saintess Suna, aren’t we taking a detour?”
Suna shrugged, countering, “No detour, and you want uninvited guests trailing us to your place, knocking on your door? Plus, don’t you want to know what I was doing and fighting earlier?”
Skull nodded, understanding, and clarified he wasn’t prying into her actions at the tavern.
“Er, fine… I was just annoyed you left me there, not trying to dig into your secrets.”
Relieved one less thing needed a cover story, Suna couldn’t resist a sharp jab.
“That’s rich, coming from someone who stalked me at night.”
Pausing, she pressed her verbal attack.
“Oh, right. You said following me at night would lead to a chance to get stronger… So, are you stronger now? Or was that just a ploy to trick this kind, good-hearted saintess?”
A normal saintess wouldn’t roam a shady district full of weirdos, vagrants, and criminals at night, but Skull instinctively explained.
“Er, no, Saintess Suna, I didn’t mean to deceive you. I just had this weird feeling guiding me to you.”
“Liars always say that,” Suna shot back.