Ison City, Champs-Élysées Avenue.
Rick and Anna spent the afternoon exploring all the shops around Champs-Élysées, then ducked into a chic restaurant with their bulging bags. Settling by the window, Anna—now stylishly dressed—cheerily waved for the menu, while Rick looked glum. The afternoon's spending had matched his lifetime expenses, especially the "Silver Trace" suit he now regretted buying. After that splurge, he'd waited outside most shops rather than risk another purchase.
Soon the waiter brought the menu and complimentary lemon water. Anna flipped through it, saw Rick's sour expression, and pouted. "It's just a little money. Don't be so stingy. I'll treat you to dinner, okay?"
"You will?" Rick perked up, nodding eagerly.
"Such a cheapskate." Anna grumbled, ordered a set meal, and pushed the menu to Rick. To her horror, he rolled up his sleeves and ordered enough for three. "Seriously? Are you trying to eat back what you spent on me today?" Anna's veins twitched—both shared a talent for frugality.
"Not really. I've just got a big appetite. After shopping with you all day, I deserve it." Rick sipped his lemon water, turning to the window. The sunset painted the sky in hues of red, gilding Champs-Élysées Avenue. At its end, the majestic Palais Saint-Rosel stood on Temple Hill, looming like an emperor over the land.
"This Arthur really thinks he's an emperor, building a palace like that." Rick remarked, forgetting his surroundings. Anna clamped a hand over his mouth, panic in her eyes. "Idiot! Want to get us in trouble? Arthur has never claimed to be emperor, but he's the people's uncrowned king. Don't say such things!"
"But his palace—"
"The whole city donated to build it. And if you had such a place, wouldn't you live there? They can't tear down what the people gifted."
"Guess so." Rick pouted. As a free-spirited Kester native, he doubted Arthur's popularity. The underground world's "eternal darkness" decree alone made the old man seem no saint.
Seeing Rick unconvinced, Anna leaned in. "I heard Arthur has royal blood."
"Royal blood? In this day and age?" Rick scoffed.
"Idiot! Forget our discovery?" Anna flicked his forehead. Rick started, touching his head. "You mean Tanzan..."
"Yes! They say Arthur descends from the Tanzan royal family. Tanzan ruled the entire Forest Domain 300 years ago—so calling him 'Your Majesty' is only fitting."
"Ah, I see." Rick was taken aback by Anna's assertion, rubbing his head wordlessly.
Just then, Anna twirled her fiery red locks, grinning proudly. "I heard that in his youth, Lord Arthur had hair as red as flame—supposedly a signature trait of the Tanzan royal bloodline..."
"Pfft, don't tell me you're hinting at royal lineage too," Rick chuckled.
"Why not?!" Anna flared up, slamming her hands on the table as she stood. "My family is from Benin Town, the closest settlement to the Tanzan Desert! Besides me, have you ever met anyone else with such stunning red hair?"
"Can't say I have," Rick admitted honestly.
"Exactly!" Anna smirked, tilting her nose triumphantly before plopping back into her seat.
"Wait, does that mean I should address you as Princess from now on?"
"Precisely! Go on, give it a try!"
Their banter unfolded without regard for onlookers, lightening the atmosphere. Rick's spirits, dampened since Lav's departure, gradually lifted.
He began plotting his life in Ison City. Lav wouldn't return from Terry County anytime soon, meaning a lengthy stay. He needed accommodation and a job to fill his days. Even with wealth, Rick knew money could vanish in aristocratic Ison—idleness was not an option.
Finding a place proved easy: querying the waiter yielded a stack of housing flyers. Anna selected one and jotted down the contact, planning to view the property after dinner. Employment, however, posed a dilemma. As a wanted man, Rick couldn't accept missions from the Insect Hunter Guild without exposing himself. Hunting in zones without credentials made him a poacher—another crime warranting a continent-wide manhunt. Unless he wanted dual bounties, his old trade was off-limits.
Career options for a combat insect user were scarce: join the city guard or work for the Merchant Guild as a bodyguard or caravan escort. Neither suited Rick. He didn't plan to stay long (ruling out the guard), nor leave soon (making guild work impossible). After much debate, he despaired: "For heaven's sake, am I meant to become a hitman like Shust?" He groaned, clutching his forehead—and belched loudly from overeating.
Anna frowned, then her eyes lit up at the sight of Rick's "Silver Trace" suit. "Didn't you befriend that storeowner Gria?"
"Yeah, so? I can't sell clothes."
"But you said he works for the Guild's Northwest Branch. Maybe he can help you find a stay-in position here."
"True. I'll ask him tomorrow." Rick felt no qualms about seeking help—after all, "friend" Gria had swindled 100 Golden Beetles from him; a favor was owed.
After two hours in the restaurant, a stuffed Rick staggered outside, having eaten the equivalent of 30+ Golden Beetles—so much that penny-pinching Anna nearly sparred with the hapless waiter over the bill.
Of course, after "getting even" (though in reality, the waiter had done nothing wrong), Rick didn't forget his earlier plan. He immediately followed the contact information the waiter had given them to find the landlord renting out the property. To his delight, on the way, he received a flyer from a newsboy. Upon closer inspection, it was a part-time job recruitment notice issued by the Merchant Guild's Northwest Branch.
With both housing and job prospects suddenly in sight, Rick was overjoyed. He signed the rental contract without haggling, paying a month's rent of 30 Golden Beetle Coins—a sum that could have rented a nice villa in Ison City, but he'd used it for a suite. Anna lectured him later for the extravagant spend.
Though pricey, the apartment's style pleased Anna. It had two bedrooms, a living room, and a bathroom—perfect for the two of them. The furniture, though old, was well-preserved and ready for move-in without cleaning. The walls were papered with blue floral patterns, complementing the simple, functional furniture to create a warm atmosphere. Opening the shutters revealed a meticulously tended small garden, offering an open view and elegant surroundings—exactly the home Rick had dreamed of, explaining why even the frugal him had rushed to rent it.
As the kind-faced landlord left, Rick flopped onto the comfy sofa, closing his eyes in contentment. Anna nestled into his arms, handing him a cup of freshly brewed tea.
"From today on, we're living together, you know. You have to take responsibility for me now," she purred.
"Wh-what?!" Rick jolted, staring at Anna in horror. "Res... responsibility..."
"Of course! We're sharing a roof. You can't abandon me now," Anna cooed, snuggling deeper into his embrace.
"Wait, hold on!" Rick pushed her back slightly, panicking. "We haven't done anything! How can I—"
His words trailed off under Anna's sharp gaze. He awkwardly switched tones: "We're still young..."
"Exactly, so I'm asking for future responsibility, not right now."
"This is just temporary."
"Then you'll buy me a house later."
"W-we're sleeping in separate rooms!"
"Oh? So you'd rather share a room?"
"..."