Chapter 40: Of Course a Game World Has Crepes

A Chilly Morning Stroll

Solus City’s morning carried the crispness of early autumn, with fragmented sunlight scattering across the streets like orange-red cotton candy, whispering of a summer long gone.

Cecilia’s hand, however, was colder, nestled in Rita’s palm like a smooth pebble long submerged in a riverbed.

Smooth, refined, yet icy.

Months ago, before being thrust into this game world, Rita couldn’t have imagined strolling hand-in-hand with such a lovely girl.

Even if her rest day was hijacked, the atmosphere wasn’t half bad.

They wandered, stopping here and there, the morning slipping away. Rita lost track of the places they passed, only aware that Cecilia’s hand never warmed under her touch.

What Cecilia was thinking or planning remained a mystery. All Rita could do was hold her hand, meandering through the city aimlessly.

Cecilia’s lips stayed pursed, silent, clashing with the surrounding bustle.

Despite their closeness, an invisible barrier seemed to separate them into different worlds.

A Sweet Pause

Approaching a crepe stall, Cecilia slowed.

“Rita.” Her small hand, still in Rita’s, pinched her pinky. “I want to eat that.”

Rita led Cecilia to the stall. “Hi, one crepe, please.”

“Two,” Cecilia corrected.

“Two crepes, then.” The vendor smiled, pouring sweet batter onto the griddle, deftly spreading it thin. “What flavors?”

Cecilia seemed prepared for the question. “I’ve never tried such commoner food. Rita, you choose.”

Crepes, a luxury at one silver coin each? Commoner food, my foot!

Rita had never picked flavors for anyone. Even choosing between eggplant or potato strips in braised pork rice had her agonizing over her phone.

Yet Cecilia’s request sparked a sense of trust. Heh.

Sneaking a glance, Rita saw Cecilia eyeing the fruit display neutrally, offering no hints.

“Uh, strawberry? And peach?”

Rita picked blindly. The vendor worked fast, layering sliced fruit onto the crepe, topping it with cloud-like cream and chocolate sprinkles. Watching felt oddly soothing.

Two crepes were bagged and handed to Rita, along with the vendor’s blessing.

“Thank you, enjoy your date.”

“What… we’re not…”

Rita tried to protest, but Cecilia tugged her away, the vendor’s knowing look lingering as they retreated.

A date?

Rita’s gaze flicked to their interlocked fingers.

A date with a blonde girl was thrilling, but Cecilia’s aloof nature? Even a lover would be toyed with endlessly.

No thanks—not my type. I prefer someone sweeter.

Like that bunny girl last night? In the real world, a girl like that would have me smitten.

“Rita.”

Cecilia’s sharp tone snapped Rita out of her daydream. “Did you hear me?”

Rita’s dazed look betrayed her wandering thoughts. Cecilia sighed. “Focus, Rita. I’m your charge. Also, I’m tired. Let’s rest ahead.”

A Shared Bench

Ahead stood an empty bench. Rita guided Cecilia to it, finally releasing her hand.

“Sit.” Cecilia patted the bench with the hand Rita had held. “You’re blocking my view standing there.”

The bench was small; sitting fully would mean shoulder-to-shoulder with Cecilia. Out of courtesy, Rita perched on the edge.

“Closer.”

Rita scooted her hips inward.

“Closer.”

She inched further.

Exasperated, Cecilia grabbed Rita’s clothes, pulling her right beside her.

For a royal, sharing a bench with a knight was a great honor, even in this informal setting—a mark of Cecilia’s respect.

Rita’s nervous fidgeting suggested it made her uneasy instead.

“Give me the crepe.”

At Cecilia’s command, Rita offered both crepes.

Cecilia eyed the wooden spoons tucked into the crepes, mildly exasperated.

Was she supposed to gnaw on it?

“One.”

Rita fumbled, holding a crepe in each hand, hesitating, reaching out, then retracting.

After seconds of indecision, she asked weakly, “Which one?”

“Either.”

The simple choice felt daunting under Cecilia’s gaze.

She’s struggling with this.

Cecilia made the call. “Strawberry.”

Rita nodded sheepishly, unwrapping the strawberry crepe and handing it over.

“Eat with me. That’s an order.”

Rita’s mouth opened. She’d suspected when buying, but Cecilia actually got her one? It was surprising.

Truthfully, when Cecilia thought she was a brothel girl, Rita was upset, and the misunderstanding lingered.

Even as an etiquette novice, she knew sharing food with her master wasn’t normal—especially as a supposed brothel girl.

Yet that abnormality conveyed respect.

“Yes.”

Rita softly agreed, unwrapping her crepe.

Unseen, a pair of eyes in the crowd fixed on the two at the bench.