Chapter 89: Chapter 89: The Fall Festival, Part Four
Chapter 89: The Fall Festival, Part Four
The four of them moved through the shopping center with bags gradually collecting in their hands.
Cyrus still wore his St. Alder uniform, but he did not stand out as much as he expected. The mall was full of students killing time before tutoring sessions, meeting friends after morning classes, or wandering around while their parents shopped. A school uniform on a Saturday barely earned a second glance.
Audra, however, noticed it.
She kept catching sight of him behind Owen and Iris whenever the crowd shifted. The dark blazer, the loosened tie, the scuffed shoes, and the same low-profile posture he wore every day made him look like he had walked straight out of school without changing anything.
He probably had.
After what happened near the stairwell, Audra had become more careful with the glamourkin ring.
She had not worn it at home for several days.
The artifact remained tucked away, hidden where she could reach it if she needed it, but she no longer kept it on her hand or around her neck. Every time she thought about using it again, she remembered Cyrus pressed against the wall, the confused look he had given her after the effect faded, and the question she could not answer.
Why had she acted that way?
The ring had to be responsible.
It had to be.
Audra had first used it on Cyrus, the first boy she had ever placed under its influence. Her grandfather had warned her that glamourkin abilities often carried differences between men and women, and he had specifically said the first opposite-sex test subject might produce an unexpected response.
That possibility was enough to keep her from touching the ring until she understood more.
The Fall Festival preparations had also taken most of her attention this week. Her class had turned a simple haunted house into a complicated operation involving supply lists, costumes, props, lighting, cardboard walls, and enough fake cobwebs to make the janitors hate them.
Once the festival was over, she would find time to study the ring properly.
For now, she followed the others through the shopping center and tried to focus on the class project.
Her attention kept returning to Cyrus anyway.
He was walking behind Owen with several bags of supplies in one hand, listening to Owen talk about a game store they had passed earlier. Cyrus did not say much, though he answered whenever Owen asked him something. His hair fell over his forehead as usual, and the uniform made him look even more out of place among the weekend crowd.
Audra looked down at her own clothes.
She had spent longer than necessary choosing them that morning.
The white blouse, fitted pants, beige coat, and shoulder bag had all been selected carefully. She had wanted to look good. The thought embarrassed her now that she admitted it.
She should have worn her uniform too.
If she had, Cyrus would not have looked so conspicuous walking near them. Instead, he looked like the only student among three people dressed for a normal weekend outing.
Audra let out a quiet breath.
Why had she wanted to look good in the first place?
The answer came too quickly.
Because Cyrus would be there.
Her face warmed.
That was ridiculous.
She had only wanted to look presentable. The thought had nothing to do with him.
Even so, she had never seen Cyrus in normal clothes.
During the Saturday tutoring sessions, he had worn the same uniform. At school, he wore the same uniform. When she saw him outside class, he still seemed to be wearing some version of it. He had received the cash award recently, yet he had not bought himself anything new.
The weather was getting colder.
St. Alder’s lighter uniform layers would not be enough once autumn settled in properly.
Audra had known Cyrus was careful with money. She had not realized he was careful to this extent.
A small ache passed through her chest.
It was sympathy.
Nothing more.
The group entered a fabric store near the center of the mall.
Owen and Iris went directly to the rows of hanging material, checking the supply list on Iris’s phone while comparing black fabric, white gauze, and several shades of gray. The haunted house needed drapes, hidden partitions, fake curtains, and something that could cover the classroom windows without tearing apart after one afternoon.
Cyrus stood beside them at first, holding two bags while he looked at a textured dark fabric hanging near the end of the row.
The material had a soft, heavy weight to it.
For a second, he wondered whether making his own clothes might be cheaper than buying them.
He had never learned how.
The thought annoyed him.
If he had paid attention when the Frostborn women made clothes back in the settlement, perhaps he could have saved money now. Most of them wore the same pale layered garments all year, long pieces of fabric arranged more for coverage than comfort. The designs had barely changed from one season to another.
Thinking about it longer only made him less interested.
Those clothes belonged to a place he had escaped.
They also looked like someone had wrapped a blanket around a person and decided tailoring was unnecessary.
Buying clothes was probably better.
His paycheck would come soon. He could afford to pick out one or two decent things without turning the purchase into a financial emergency. He also needed to remind Daphne about the rent refund she had promised.
Good food and decent clothes were proof that life was improving.
Cyrus looked toward the mall corridor.
There had to be a menswear store somewhere nearby.
"You need something made?"
Audra’s voice came from beside him.
Cyrus turned.
She had stepped closer without him noticing. Her expression was composed, though there was something unreadable in her eyes as she watched the fabric he had been considering.
"My family has a store that does custom clothing," she said. "The prices are reasonable. You could tell me if you need anything."
Cyrus blinked.
Audra had guessed what he was thinking.
That was unsettling.
"No, thank you," he said. "I will look around on my own."
Audra’s expression shifted slightly.
The change was small enough that Cyrus could not tell whether he had offended her or whether she had only expected a different answer.
Had he been rude?
He did not think so.
Her offer was generous, but accepting something through her family sounded like a fast way to owe someone he barely understood. Cyrus had enough people trying to help him in ways that created access. He did not need another person arranging clothes for him.
Audra held his gaze for a few seconds.
Then she turned away and carried a length of white fabric toward the register.
Cyrus watched her go, still unsure what he had done wrong.
Owen and Iris finished checking the remaining materials, and the group continued through several more stores.
By the time they completed the list, it was close to eleven.
Each of them carried several bags. Cyrus had cardboard supports, fabric, two lantern boxes, tape, hooks, and a bag full of plastic chains. Owen carried most of the heavier supplies. Iris had handled the smaller items and the list. Audra carried the bags that would not fit comfortably in anyone else’s hands.
They found a row of rental lockers near the mall entrance and stored the supplies inside.
Iris checked the final count on her phone.
"That should be everything," she said. "Are you all hungry?"
Owen looked up from the locker key.
"Ms. Hart gave us money for helping with the shopping," he said. "We could get lunch before we head back. Does anyone have a preference?"
"Anything is fine with me," Audra said.
Cyrus looked across the corridor.
A counter-service noodle place sat near the escalators. The open kitchen faced a curved row of seats, and steam rose from several deep bowls in front of the customers already eating there.
"I want to try that place," Cyrus said, pointing toward it.
Owen followed his hand.
"The noodle bar?"
"I have had instant noodle cups before," Cyrus said. "I have never tried the real version."
"That sounds good to me," Owen said.
Iris gave a small nod.
Audra did not object.
The restaurant was narrow, with most of the seating arranged along a long counter facing the kitchen. Customers sat shoulder to shoulder on stools while cooks worked behind the counter, tossing noodles, lifting strainers, and moving bowls across the line with dramatic speed.
Cyrus sat first.
Audra took the stool on one side of him. Before he could think anything of it, Iris sat on his other side, and Owen settled beside Iris.
Cyrus ended up between the two girls.
He did not feel uncomfortable.
They were only eating lunch.
The menu offered several varieties of broth, vegetables, noodles, and toppings. Cyrus studied it carefully before choosing a pork-broth noodle bowl with sliced meat, green onions, and a soft-cooked egg.
Audra ordered the same base, then added a generous amount of chili oil.
Owen picked a chicken bowl. Iris chose a lighter vegetable broth.
The restaurant was still quiet enough that they could watch the cooks prepare everything.
One of them stretched the noodles high into the air before dropping them into boiling water. Another ladled broth into each bowl with a flourish that seemed more suited to a stage than a kitchen. The process was impressive, though Cyrus suspected half of it existed only so customers would feel they had received more than a bowl of noodles.
The food arrived quickly.
Steam rose from Cyrus’s bowl in thick waves.
The smell alone made him hungry.
He picked up a fork, lifted a small bite, and tasted it carefully.
The broth was rich. The noodles had absorbed the flavor. The meat was tender enough to pull apart without effort, and the egg added a soft warmth that made the entire bowl feel more filling than he expected.
It was good.
Too good.
Cyrus took another bite, then forced himself to slow down.
Hot food was a problem.
If he ate too quickly and let too much heat build inside him, his Frostborn body would react badly. He could already feel the warmth gathering in his chest and stomach, uncomfortable in a way no human at the counter would understand.
A normal person could finish a fresh bowl of noodles without worrying that their body might start slipping toward a smaller form.
Humans were convenient.
Audra lifted a hand to move her hair behind one ear and took another mouthful of noodles. Her bowl had turned noticeably red from the chili oil, and she drank the hot broth without hesitation.
Cyrus watched her for a second longer than he meant to.
She could eat spicy food while it was still hot.
If he tried that, he might melt into Cory before reaching the bottom of the bowl.
Audra noticed.
"Is something wrong with your food?" she asked quietly.
"I need to slow down," Cyrus said. "It is too hot."
Audra looked at his bowl, then at hers.
"You can ask for ice water."
"I will manage."
Cyrus turned his attention toward the kitchen.
A cook flipped another bundle of noodles through the air. The display reminded him of watching a bartender toss a shaker, spin a bottle, and make a simple drink look like complicated magic.
It looked good.
It did not make the noodles taste better.
After lunch, the four of them stepped back into the mall corridor.
Cyrus looked toward the entrance.
"Are we going back to school now?"
"Not yet," Iris said. "Owen and I were going to browse for a little while. You can wait somewhere if you want."
"I need to buy something too," Cyrus said.
Owen glanced at the time.
"Then let us meet back at the lockers in half an hour."
"That works for me," Cyrus said.
The group split up.
Cyrus headed toward the menswear store he had noticed earlier.
The shopping center was large enough that he did not need to ask for directions. They had already passed the store once while buying festival supplies, and he remembered the dark glass front, the rows of sweaters near the entrance, and the muted lighting inside.
When he walked in, a sales clerk stood behind the counter looking at her phone.
She did not notice him.
Cyrus was grateful for that.
He preferred shopping without someone hovering nearby, asking questions, or trying to talk him into spending more money than he planned. He moved between the racks, touching the fabric of several sweaters and jackets while considering how they would fit.
Loose autumn clothes would probably work best.
A dark knit sweater looked comfortable. A light jacket beside it had enough room to layer over a shirt. He could buy a few basics and avoid looking like he wore the same uniform every day of his life.
Cyrus picked up a sweater and approached the counter.
"Could you get this in my size?" he asked.
The clerk finally lifted her head.
Her eyes moved over him from the school uniform to the inexpensive backpack and the sweater in his hand.
She paused.
"That one is expensive," she said.
Cyrus opened his mouth.
A familiar voice reached him from behind.
"If you never work for it, it will always be expensive."
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