Amukelo: The Burdened Path

Chapter 98 - Choosing A Suit

Bral turned sharply, grinning with barely contained excitement as he fixed his gaze on Amukelo. "Alright, rookie. Maybe you're not a rookie in our guild anymore, but you're definitely a rookie in this."

Amukelo blinked, tilting his head in confusion. "What? In what?"

Bral's grin only widened as he slapped a hand on Amukelo's shoulder, his voice full of enthusiasm. "We're changing our plans. First, we gotta get you ready for this evening."

Amukelo squinted, still not following. "Ready? Ready for what?"

Bral ignored his question entirely, turning to the rest of the group. "First stop... a tailor shop."

Amukelo's brow furrowed even deeper. "A tailor shop? What's that?"

Bral gave him a flat look, then sighed. "Seriously? It's where people buy clothes, Amukelo. Ever heard of those?"

Amukelo crossed his arms, clearly annoyed at being treated like a complete idiot. "I know what clothes are, but why are we going there? I have clothes."

Bral grinned again, completely ignoring the second half of his statement. "You'll see once we get there. Now go and ask someone for directions."

Amukelo let out a long, drawn-out sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Ugh... fine. I guess."

As he walked off to ask for directions, Bao groaned and facepalmed. "I should have just kept my mouth shut."

Idin, watching the exchange with mild amusement, suddenly clutched his stomach dramatically. "That's great and all, but what about food? I'm going to starve to death before we even get there."

Bral rolled his eyes but waved a hand dismissively. "Alright, alright, fine. We'll grab some roast on the way. But after that, we're heading straight to the tailor. No detours."

A few moments later, Amukelo returned, pointing down the street. "It's that way."

With their new 'mission' set, the group made their way to the shop. As they walked, the scent of sizzling meat and fresh bread filled the air, making Idin groan even more dramatically.

"Oh, thank God." He suddenly veered off toward a small stall, where a vendor was cutting thick portions of roasted meat and stuffing them into warm, fluffy bread rolls.

Idin immediately ordered a portion, grabbing the sandwich with both hands. He took a massive bite, letting out an exaggerated groan of satisfaction. "Now this is what I call a meal."

Bral, barely glancing at him, just shook his head. "You're eating like you've never seen food before."

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"I almost didn't, thanks to you." Idin mumbled with his mouth full, taking another huge bite as they continued walking.

Eventually, they reached the tailor's shop—a modest building wedged between a weaponsmith and a bakery. A small wooden sign hung above the entrance, swaying slightly in the breeze, with the image of a sewing needle and fabric embroidered on it.

Amukelo, already uneasy, looked up at the sign and frowned. "Are we seriously here to buy clothes?"

Bral patted him on the back, pushing him through the door. "Not just any clothes. Something nice. Something that actually makes you look presentable."

As they entered, the shopkeeper, a middle-aged man with neatly combed hair and spectacles perched on the tip of his nose, looked up from folding a silk tunic.

He glanced at Idin, who was still chewing loudly on his sandwich, and his expression immediately soured. "No food allowed inside. If you leave a stain on my clothing, you'll have to buy it."

Idin, mid-bite, simply shrugged. "Yeah, yeah. I'll finish outside."

Without much argument, he turned back toward the door, stepping outside to lean against the wall while continuing to enjoy his food.

The shopkeeper then turned to the remaining three, clasping his hands together with a polite, business-like smile. "Now, how can I assist you today?"

Bral gestured at Amukelo. "We're trying to find something that fits him. Something elegant but not too extravagant."

Amukelo froze, his confusion deepening into full-on panic. "What? What are you talking about? Elegant? Why? What's going on?"

Bral smiled innocently, his tone smooth and nonchalant. "We're going to buy you something nice. Something you can present yourself in."

Amukelo's panic only intensified. "Present myself? Present myself for what? Where am I going?"

Bral chuckled, waving a hand. "You'll figure that out later today. Don't stress about it."

The shopkeeper gave Amukelo a once-over, nodding thoughtfully. "Alright, I have a few things in mind that might suit him. Give me a moment."

Amukelo stood there, still baffled, as the shopkeeper disappeared into the back, rummaging through stacks of neatly folded garments.

Bral elbowed Amukelo, grinning. "Don't look so scared. It's just clothes."

Amukelo stared at him flatly. "It's never just clothes."

Bao, standing nearby with her arms crossed, simply shook her head.

A few minutes later, the shopkeeper returned, carrying a small stack of carefully selected outfits. He placed them on the counter, adjusting his spectacles.

"Try these on. Let's see how they fit."

Amukelo stared at the clothes, then at the changing room, then back at Bral. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"

Bral grinned even wider. "Dead serious. Now go."

Amukelo let out another long sigh, grabbed the clothes, and headed toward the changing room, still muttering to himself about how none of this made any sense.

Amukelo put on the collar of the brown jacket he wore over a white shirt, the ensemble completed by yellow trousers. He turned to Bral, who stood with his arms crossed, studying him with a critical eye.

"So... what do you think?" Amukelo asked, somewhat hopeful.

Bral scratched the back of his head, his lips twisting in thought. "Ughh... I don't think it will work. Try something else."

Amukelo let out a small sigh, turned back into the changing room, and shut the curtain behind him. A few minutes later, he emerged again, this time wearing a red jacket over a red shirt, paired with brown pants.

Bral immediately winced. "Ughh... again. Come on, can't you see what matches? This looks like you're trying to blend in with a festival banner."

Amukelo, clearly growing frustrated, just stared at him. "I don't know, man. It's just clothes."

"No, it's not just clothes! You have to look presentable. Try something else!" Bral said, waving him away. "Just go for something entirely white. That should be safe."

With an exasperated shake of his head, Amukelo turned back into the changing room and did as instructed. When he came out this time, he wore a simple, all-white ensemble—white jacket, shirt, and pants.

Bral tilted his head, arms still crossed. "I don't know. I thought white would be good, but it doesn't work either." He sighed, then added, "Idin should be here. He'd know."

Amukelo rubbed his temples and walked back inside, already dreading the next outfit. He tried on a few more combinations, each time stepping out, only to be met with Bral's increasingly frustrated rejections. Nothing seemed to satisfy him.

After what felt like an eternity, the shop bell rang, and Idin strolled back inside, looking supremely satisfied, likely from whatever meal he had just devoured. He wiped his hands on his tunic, scanning the scene before him.

"What's going on?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at the pile of discarded clothes stacked on a nearby chair. "He still hasn't picked anything?"

Bral threw up his hands. "Oh, thank God, you're back. I can't figure this out. Nothing works. I don't know if it's because I've always seen him as a wild man, or if nothing actually fits him, but every single outfit looks off."

Just as he said that, Amukelo stepped out once again, clearly nearing the breaking point of his patience. This time, he was clad in a black jacket with silver accents, black pants featuring subtle silver embroidery, and a deep red shirt underneath. He looked down at himself, his expression already one of tired resignation.

"What about this?" Amukelo asked, his voice bordering on defeat.

Bral grimaced, pointing at him. "See? Nothing works. I don't know if it's the red, or the black, or—"

"It's the red," Idin cut in, matter-of-factly as he stepped closer, arms folded, giving Amukelo a quick but sharp once-over.

"If you're just picking random colors, of course it's not going to work," Idin said, sounding like a disappointed teacher. "But we can fix this. The black and silver work well, but the red? No. It's throwing the entire look off." He turned to Amukelo. "Go change into a black shirt instead. Keep the jacket and pants."

Amukelo, though skeptical, was relieved he didn't have to pick another outfit himself. He nodded, grabbed a plain black shirt from the pile, and disappeared back into the changing room. A few moments later, he stepped out, fully dressed in black and silver.

Idin studied him for a moment, nodding approvingly. "That's already better. But... it still needs contrast." He glanced around the shop, his gaze landing on a deep blue jacket with gold accents hanging nearby. His eyes lit up slightly.

"Wait a second... Try this one." He grabbed the blue jacket and handed it to Amukelo.

Amukelo, too exhausted to argue, simply took it and swapped jackets right there, not even bothering to close the curtain this time. As he slipped into the blue jacket, the difference was immediate.

The deep, rich blue contrasted perfectly against the black and silver, while the golden embroidery along the sleeves and collar gave it an elegant but understated flair. It fit him well, framing his shoulders and complementing his lean build. The colors stood out just enough to catch the eye, without being overwhelming or gaudy.

Idin stepped back, looking him over with a satisfied nod. "That's it. That's the one. It looks great on you."

Bral, who had been squinting in thought, suddenly widened his eyes. "Actually... yeah. That really works."

Bao, who had been quietly observing, finally chimed in. "Yeah, I can't even argue with that. It looks good."

Amukelo glanced at himself in the mirror, tilting his head slightly, then running his hands along the smooth fabric of the jacket. After a long moment, he sighed, but this time in relief rather than frustration.

"Finally." He rolled his shoulders, testing the fit. "But you know... I really do like this one over all the others."

Idin smirked, crossing his arms. "See? That's why you let people with actual taste make these decisions for you."