Chapter 599: Weapon Shop

"I guess it’s just us, huh?"

Benjamin watched their figures fade between the moving bodies and the hanging signs until even the green of Eric’s hair was no longer visible, swallowed by the distance and the press of strangers.

He turned forward again and began walking, his steps unhurried against the hot stone.

The street they entered was less crowded; the press of people was thin, leaving clearer space between the shopfronts and longer stretches of open cobblestone that gleamed under the high sun.

The afternoon light slanted across the upper stories, catching on ironwork and faded paint, turning ordinary buildings into something briefly beautiful.

"As expected of Benjamin~"

Katana’s voice came from his left, warm with amusement, possessing that particular lilt that belonged only to her.

She matched his pace without effort, the pale skin of her arms catching the light, the movement casual and unconscious.

"Hm? What do you mean?" Benjamin turned his head to look at her, his blue eyes meeting hers for a moment before returning to the path.

The corner of the street ahead opened onto a narrower lane that smelled faintly of oil and metal, the scent of a place where weapons were made and sold.

"I know you have never been to Thaad before," she answered. Her dark eyes crinkled at the corners, the skin folding into lines of easy amusement. "But you casually know the way to the weapon shop, and have even used some shortcuts. You took the left turn at the second water-seller without checking the signs. And you cut behind the cooper’s stall as if you already knew the alley would open onto the right street."

A brief red tint spread across Benjamin’s cheeks, faint but unmistakable under the sun, a warmth that had nothing to do with the heat.

He faced forward again at once, attention returning firmly to the road ahead.

"It’s nothing special, I tell you." His retort came a little too quickly, the words possessing a faint defensive edge. "I’m just tracing the nearest scent of steel, that’s all. Anyone with a working nose could manage the same. It is just a thing that happens when a person pays attention to what is around them."

"You lie. And adorably so." Katana’s giggle was light, almost private, the sound softening the already thinning crowd noise around them.

Her dark eyes stayed on his face a moment longer than necessary, tracing the lines of his features as though reading something written there.

"And even that would be impressive, if you truly had such a good nose. Most people cannot pick out steel through three streets of roasting meat, perfume oils, and open dye vats."

They continued walking.

The conversation drifted easily between short observations about the street and longer stretches of comfortable quiet.

Katana pointed out a narrow side passage that led toward a low forge, where the heat of the furnaces could be felt even from a distance;

Benjamin answered with a noncommittal hum and kept to the path he had already tread, his steps steady and sure against the worn stone.

Minutes passed, and the hanging sign finally came into view in the distance—two short rows of iron chain supporting a weathered wooden board, the painted image of a blade and crossed spears still clear enough to read even from afar.

The shop itself sat slightly recessed from the main flow of the street, its frontage narrow and practical, the kind of place that did not need to announce itself because those who needed it would find it.

Benjamin found his attention sliding sideways more than once.

The flared skirt Katana wore really was quite short. Every step made the fabric lift and settle in a way that seemed impractical for someone who spent a good deal of time leaping during combat.

And the sleeveless cut of her top left her arms entirely bare, the pale sheen of muscle catching the light with every movement.

He had watched her train in the sharp cold of early morning without any sign of discomfort.

So the questions rose naturally—whether the skirt ever caught or hindered her in a fight, and whether the bare arms bothered her when the temperature dropped—but he recognized at once how easily either remark could be taken as something other than practical concern.

He closed his mouth and kept the observations locked behind his teeth, filing them away with all the other questions he had learned not to ask.

"But hey," he said instead, glancing toward the long, straight fall of her black hair, "you look even prettier with your hair let down. The former ponytail was cool as well, but this looks more... Palstrait."

Katana’s hand rose almost absently. Her fingers brushed the silky length where it lay against her shoulder and upper back, the strands shifting under her touch and settling again with a soft, clean sheen under the slanted light.

"You think so?" The question had genuine pleasure, a warmth that softened the edges of her voice. "Thank you for the compliment. And you seem to know about Palstrait a lot."

"I have been to Shishi-no-su once." Benjamin’s face lit with a clear, nostalgic smile that softened the usual lines of his features, that made him look younger and older at the same time. "They all treated me like family. There was no careful distance or testing period. They simply decided I belonged for as long as I stayed. They even threw a birthday party for me though they had no way of knowing it was actually my birthday. Someone had decided the day needed celebrating, and that was the end of the discussion."

Katana watched the smile settle on his face. An answering expression pulled at her own mouth before she could stop it.

The warmth in his voice was difficult to ignore; it made a person want to stand closer just to feel it.

"Well," she murmured, the words quiet enough that they nearly disappeared under the sound of their footsteps, "one cannot help but dote on such an adorable woman as yourself."