Chapter 224: Shopping
The city rose before him like an old memory brought back to life. Towers of glass and mana-infused steel stretched into the skyline, their lights flickering even in the fading daylight.
Roads thrummed with carriages enchanted to float inches off the ground, their glowing wheels spinning silently. Crowds spilled across crosswalks, laughter and chatter weaving with the noise of vendors hawking goods.
Merlin stood on the edge of a rooftop, his breath short. Even with affinities smoothing the path, the rush had drained him more than he wanted to admit. His knees trembled faintly, but he gritted his teeth and steadied himself.
"...Still too much strain," he muttered. His voice was lost to the wind.
From here, though, he could see it. A small block of apartments tucked between a bakery and a tailor shop, worn brick and glowing windows that belonged more to home than any dormitory ever could.
He leapt again. The world blurred. And then—
His boots hit the stone path outside the building with a muted thud.
For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the familiar door. His chest tightened with something he couldn’t quite name. Fear. Relief. Both tangled in one.
Slowly, he lifted his hand and knocked.
The door creaked open.
"Merlin?"
Victoria’s voice cracked halfway through his name. She stood there in her apron, a dish towel clutched in one hand. Her eyes widened, disbelieving, as if she feared he might vanish like smoke if she blinked.
Merlin’s lips curved faintly. "I told you I’d make it back."
The towel hit the floor. She didn’t hesitate this time, didn’t freeze like she had in the infirmary weeks ago. Instead, she lunged forward and wrapped him in her arms. The air rushed from his lungs at the force of it.
"Idiot," she whispered fiercely, her voice breaking. "Stupid, reckless idiot... Do you have any idea how long—" Her words cut off, strangled by a sob.
Merlin’s arms lifted slowly, then settled around her shoulders. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he let himself sink into the embrace.
"...Yeah," he murmured, his throat tight. "I know."
—
Later, inside, the apartment was warm. Cluttered in places, Victoria’s books stacked on the table, a basket of laundry half-folded, the faint scent of fresh bread from the bakery below drifting through the open window.
Merlin sank into the couch, feeling the cushions swallow his exhausted frame. His speed run back had drained more stamina than he cared to admit.
Victoria returned from the kitchen with two mugs of tea. She set one in front of him, then leaned against the opposite armrest, studying him with eyes that hadn’t lost their sharpness despite the tears still drying on her cheeks.
"It’s better here, isn’t it?" she asked suddenly. "Than those... dorms."
Merlin glanced at her. The question wasn’t simple. He took a sip of tea, savoring the warmth on his tongue, before answering.
"...No," he said finally. "It’s not better. Just closer."
Her brow furrowed. "Closer?"
"To the academy," Merlin clarified. "To training. To the others. If I stayed here, I’d be traveling by taxi every day, wasting time. The dorms aren’t home, but... they’re practical."
Victoria looked down at her hands, twisting the fabric of her apron absently. "Practical," she repeated softly, almost bitterly.
Merlin’s chest ached. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "This place, our apartment, this is home. Don’t ever think otherwise."
Her eyes flicked up, wet but steady. "...Then don’t disappear on me again."
His throat worked, but no words came. He only nodded.
That night, as the city lights glittered beyond the window, Merlin sat alone on the couch long after Victoria had gone to bed.
His affinities thrummed faintly under his skin, wind restless, space stretching thin, lightning sparking impatiently. All of them stronger than they should have been for a first-year.
He flexed his hand, watching the faint shimmer of power coil between his fingers.
"...Closer," he repeated under his breath.
Closer to strength.
Closer to answers.
Closer to something he didn’t yet understand.
But for now, he let himself breathe.
For now, he was home.
—
The morning passed him by.
Merlin woke late, the kind of late where the sunlight had already slipped past its golden glow and now poured steady and white through the curtains. His eyes lingered on the ceiling for a long time, his body heavy, unwilling to move.
The apartment was too quiet compared to the academy dorms. No footsteps in the hall, no students calling to each other, no muted clash of weapons outside his window.
Just the ticking of a cheap clock on the wall and the faint clatter of dishes from the kitchen.
"Merlin?" Victoria’s voice drifted through the door, warm, tinged with cheer. "You planning to sleep until the sun goes down again?"
He sighed and sat up slowly. His muscles ached, a dull reminder that his strength was still crawling back after the labyrinth and everything that came after. The system flickered faintly in his vision—
[Stability: 82%]
[Star Alignment: 5.9]
He dismissed it with a thought. ’Not now.’
The door creaked open before he could stand, and Victoria’s face peeked in. Her blond hair was tied back in a messy knot, flour dusting one cheek. She frowned, though the relief in her eyes betrayed her.
"Still alive," she said. "Good. Get dressed."
He raised a brow. "Why?"
"Because you’ve done nothing but sleep, brood, and pace the same three rooms since you left the infirmary." She folded her arms. "You’re coming shopping with me."
Merlin groaned. "Shopping?"
"Yes. Fresh air. Normal things. You need it."
He rubbed his temples. "I’m not exactly normal."
"Exactly why you should try," she shot back, already pulling the curtain wide. Light flooded the room, too bright for his tired eyes.
Merlin muttered under his breath but obeyed. Minutes later he stepped into the street beside her, hood pulled low.
—
The city was alive in a way the academy never was. Market stalls spilled color and noise across the cobblestone. Banners snapped in the breeze. Merchants called out their prices, their voices overlapping in a constant tide.
The smell of roasted meat clashed with sweet pastries and the sharp tang of iron from a smith’s forge down the lane.
Merlin’s gaze wandered despite himself. This was the world of his favorite novel, living and breathing. A world he knew in ways none of them could.
Every storefront, every name, every guild insignia he saw carved into wood or etched into banners, he remembered them from pages he had read long before waking here.
Victoria slipped easily through the press of people, greeting shopkeepers, inspecting wares, haggling with the kind of confidence Merlin never had. He followed, carrying most of her bags, quiet.
"See?" she said over her shoulder. "Isn’t this better than sulking in a room?"
Merlin shifted the weight of the bags. "...Debatable."
She laughed, the sound clear and familiar, grounding him.
And then—
"Merlin?"
The voice came from ahead, calm and low, touched by a note of surprise. He froze before even lifting his head. He knew that voice too well.
Elara.
She stood at the corner of the street, framed by the sun. Silver hair braided neatly over one shoulder, violet eyes that caught light like polished amethyst.
Her clothes were finer than the students around them, a dark green coat trimmed with subtle embroidery, the kind only the wealthy could afford. Which, of course, she could.
Merlin’s chest tightened.
Victoria blinked, then brightened. "Elara! It’s been a while."
Elara inclined her head slightly, her usual poise untouched, though Merlin swore her gaze lingered on him a second too long before shifting. "Victoria. I hadn’t expected to see either of you here."
Merlin finally forced his voice out. "...We needed supplies."
Her eyes slid back to him, softer now, almost unreadable. "You look steadier than last I saw."
Victoria looked between them, a faint smirk playing on her lips, though she wisely said nothing.
"Barely," Merlin muttered.
Elara stepped closer, her movements quiet but precise. "Barely is still progress."
Something in the way she said it made his stomach twist. Not sharp, not distant, genuine. But layered beneath her calm tone, there was a weight he couldn’t decipher.
Victoria broke the silence. "Why don’t you join us? It’d be nice to have company while we shop."
Merlin stiffened. Elara’s brows rose the slightest fraction, but she didn’t refuse. "If it doesn’t trouble you."
Victoria grinned. "Of course not."
And so the three of them wove through the city together. Victoria darted from stall to stall, examining fabrics, jewelry, and produce, always with a comment or a laugh. Merlin trailed, burdened with bags but oddly at ease.
And Elara, Elara walked at his side, her presence steady, her gaze catching his now and then with quiet intensity.
At one point, when Victoria stopped to barter over a pot of herbs, Merlin found himself beside Elara, the crowd thinning around them.
He spoke before he could stop himself. "...You really came."
She tilted her head slightly. "Why wouldn’t I?"
"I don’t know. The city’s... not really your kind of place."
Her lips curved faintly, barely there. "Perhaps not. But some things are worth the trouble."
Merlin blinked, heat prickling at his chest, but before he could answer, Victoria returned, beaming with her new purchase.
"Come on," she said. "We’ve still got half the market to go."
Merlin fell into step between them, the noise of the crowd fading beneath the sound of their voices.
For the first time in weeks, maybe months, the world felt, normal.