CHAPTER 77: CHAPTER 77 - SO MUCH SPACE IN THE WORLD

After the shopping spree, we went back to the camp.

Mother was in good spirits, despite being alone inside the tent for so long.

"Good evening, you two."

"Good evening, Mom. Look at what we’ve brought."

"Good evening, Lady Lillian."

I show her the makeup, then put my wigs on myself.

"How do I look?"

"Like a clown. Your red hair is showing."

She laughs and helps me set up the wig properly.

"Now, now... you look like a new person, Aurea."

"Indeed. People who have only met you barely would have a hard time recognizing you."

Hehehe... That’s the objective.

"Now you try it on, Mom!"

She deftly puts her own wig on perfectly. I wonder how much practice she had on that before.

"When I was a teenager, I often slipped out of home to walk around in the city. So I used to put those on a lot to be able to go unnoticed."

Ohhhh, that makes sense.

"Well, you really seem very different as well, Mom. We’ll be able to enter the next town undercover."

"Why the next town? Why not this one, Aurea?"

Lovelace tilts her head quizzically.

"It’s because we’ve already been seen here as red-haired. If two red-haired girls enter a tent and two black-haired girls get out, people will notice it and get curious about what’s going on."

"Aurea’s right. We’ll sleep here tonight, and then tomorrow morning we depart. In the afternoon, before we get to the city, we enter the forest, put on the wigs, and do the makeup."

"So the people in that city will only know us as a black-haired freckled woman and her equally black-haired and freckled daughter."

"Actually, Aurea, my two black-haired daughters, only one of whom is freckled."

"Really? Lovelace will be my sister?"

"Yes, she will, for our cover story to work. And we also need to change our names there. It won’t do if anyone hears Lovelace calling me Lady Lillian."

"Oh, right."

"I could just call you Mom and call Aurea sis."

"But they will ask our names at the inn. We need to have that ready."

"Yeah... I can be Rose, because it’s a flower like Lily."

"That’s a good name, Mom. Then I could be Dior. It’s also a word that means ’golden,’ just like Aurea."

"Rose and Dior, then. Sounds good to me. I can keep being Lovelace, as nobody knows that name."

"Yayyyy! Perfect!"

:::

The following day, we enter the next city without any issues. It’s just another nondescript backwater town, though to me it’s special.

Treehollows is the city in which I’ll eat pastries for the first time in this world. And I’m very much looking forward to it.

In the Barrens, pastries are a luxury unheard of. Something completely unattainable by default.

And I don’t even need to say anything about pastries in slave life, do I?

And now, a cake shop is right in front of me. The smell of baked goods is arousing my belly.

Oh gosh, how I missed this.

You see, I was a cafe junkie back in my old life. I loved to just stay there for hours, eating sweets and drinking coffee and tea.

There Is no coffee in this world, and though there are some herbal infusions, they’re mostly for medicine and not tea.

But there’s no crying over spilled milk. What matters is that we have wheat, or at least a wheat-like grain that can produce bread and cakes.

So I can let the no-coffee thing slide. For now.

"Let’s go in!"

"Yes, Aur... I mean, Dior, let’s go in."

"It’s funny to see that there is something that makes you more excited than even dungeons, darling."

Mom is laughing at my excited face, but I don’t care. I care about eating those beautiful cakes. And pies. And whatever is that other thing those guys at that table are eating.

"Good afternoon, may I help you?"

"Good afternoon. May I ask you what is that that they’re eating?"

"Oh, that’s Bastard Cream. It’s a cream made with milk, eggs, honey, and other ingredients, to which we add grapes, berries, and diced apples."

"That looks delicious. I want one. A small portion, so I can have space to try some cake as well."

"And I will have a moonberry pie."

"And I want a slice of rainbow cake."

"A small portion of Bastard Cream, a slice of moonberry pie, and a slice of rainbow cake. You can take a table, and I’ll bring them to you shortly."

We sit at a table in the corner, chatting happily, while we wait. Soon, the waitress brings our food, and we all eat.

"This is delicious!"

"Yeah, after all those years in captivity. It’s a bliss to eat something like this."

"Mine is good, too."

"Can I try a bite of each of yours? I have no idea what a moonberry tastes like, and even less a rainbow cake."

The rainbow cake probably takes its name from the several layers of different colors it has. I wonder if it’s just a coloring thing or if it affects flavor as well.

"This is good. Yum, so goooood. Aaaaaaaah, I’m so happy right now."

"Hehehe. It’s perfect, right?"

Mom, it only isn’t perfect because I lack the bitter coffee or tea to balance out the sweetness in my mouth. But I can’t say this aloud.

"Yes, it is!"

It’s as perfect as it can be in this world, though, and I’m happy for that.

:::

That night, we rented a room together at an inn. It’s a room with three beds, so each will be sleeping in their own bed.

It’s the first time in this life in which I’ll sleep alone in my bed.

Damn, I’ve been having a lot of ’firsts’ these days, haven’t I? I guess that’s what it means to be truly free.

I lived like this with my father, traveling around the world, making money as we went, and passing through good times and bad times.

Sometimes we would sleep in the bus station, and sometimes we would rent a proper hotel room. Sometimes we would eat whatever, and sometimes we would eat delicious pastries.

After I started living alone, I kept doing the same by myself for a couple of years. It took me a long time to start getting used to the idea of settling somewhere.

I remember my father and I taking a map of South America and putting it on a table every time we would decide where we wanted to go.

"There’s so much space in the world that it makes no sense to stop" is another of my dad’s catchphrases. He claimed it was from a Khazak saying, but I never bothered researching it myself.

The life with the beastkin was different. We were always on the move as well, but it was always following predetermined routes someone else chose for me.

The novelty here is to be able to choose for myself.

Or, phrasing it better... the nostalgic thing here is to be able to choose for myself.

I miss my dad.