Chapter 163: Leisure Time!

The mist of the Market clung to them like cool silk as they left Vex’s stall behind, planning to return some time in the future if any of them wanted to purchase something.

The air shimmered faintly, alive with scents of mana, ozone, and things that had never existed in the mortal realm. The streets twisted softly as they walked with Lilian guiding them further.

The three of them walked side by side through the ghost-lit lanes, their reflections fractured in the pale sheen of the ground. The crowd had thickened, probably as it reached peak traffic hours, and they could spot a variety of people, from a variety of races, moving around, handling their own business calmly.

Lilian’s crimson eyes glowed faintly under the double moons above, her smile light, her demeanor confident. “You see?” she said, gesturing to the market around them, “Vex might be depressing, but her wares are the best introduction to the Isles’ economy, surreal, ethically questionable, and utterly irresistible.”

Elara gave a nervous laugh, hugging her notebook close. “I don’t think ’ethically questionable’ quite covers what she does. She eats memories.”

“That’s just her diet,” Lilian replied casually, “Like how Vampires drink blood, or Demons gained strength from eating the flesh of strong beings. It’s a physiological quirk, no point in fussing over it,”

Elara just nodded and wrote that down in her notebook as the group moved on. Lilian turned a corner as they went deeper to the Western side of the Market, noticing just how vivid the environment was becoming.

Stalls of all shapes and sizes materialized and dematerialized as if breathing with the city’s pulse. There were stands made of solidified moonlight, tables carved from gravestones, floating displays of jewelry that hovered above invisible counters.

Every merchant was stranger than the last, some shadows with voices, others glowing skeletons or masked figures in translucent veils, they also came in all shapes and sizes. Some were short like Vex, but others were 2 times taller than Albedo himself.

The crowd around them felt dreamlike. Ghosts bartered with Demons. Spirits offered songs in exchange for tears. A pale woman with no mouth hummed a lullaby as she sold Magic Instruments.

They eventually reached an enormous tent stitched from black velvet and spectral silk. The sign above the entrance shimmered faintly, “Moonweaver Atelier.”

Lilian’s eyes lit up, “Oh, perfect. You’ll love this.”

Elara tilted her head, curious, “What is it?”

“Clothing,” Lilian said, sweeping the curtain aside. “But not ordinary ones.”

Inside, the atelier was vast much larger than it appeared from the outside. Dozens of spectral mannequins floated in the air, displaying flowing robes, elegant coats, and dresses that shimmered as if woven from starlight. unes danced faintly along hems and sleeves, whispering protection, beauty, or mischief. The fabrics didn’t just reflect light — they absorbed it, turning motion into shimmer and silence into grace.

A spectral tailor emerged from behind one of the mannequins, their form almost human but slightly blurred, eyes two small pinpricks of pale white light.

“Customers,” the ghostly tailor rasped, voice smooth as silk, “and Lilian, how rare to see you come with others, welcome, welcome,”

Lilian grinned, “Moonweaver! Still alive?”

The ghost blinked slowly, “Still dead.”

“Good,” she replied with a wink. “Business as usual, then.”

Elara couldn’t hide her fascination. She ran her fingers near one of the hanging fabrics , a gown that seemed made of translucent waves, and gasped when the fabric pulsed in response, shifting color from deep indigo to pale silver.

“It reacts to your mana,” the ghost said softly. “Every weave here mirrors the person that wears it. Choose with care, the wrong garment might wear you instead.”

Lilian smirked, “Oh, don’t scare the scholar. She’ll think the dress is haunted.”

Elara looked at her with mock indignation, “It’s not haunted… right?”

“No, no,” the tailor said calmly, “Merely attuned.”

Albedo leaned back against one of the mirrored pillars, arms folded, quietly watching as the two women explored. The ghost-light played across his face, reflecting in the blue of his eyes.

He was clearly out of his element, but he didn’t seem to mind. Lilian and Elara’s chatter filled the silence in the environment as they moved all across the store, looking for things they liked.

Lilian was the first to pick something up, a long black coat that flowed like liquid shadow, trimmed with faint threads of crimson mana that pulsed faintly at her heartbeat. She tried it on, the coat shifting to perfectly match her silhouette, highlighting her elegance.

“Gorgeous,” Elara admitted, circling her, “It looks like it was made for you.”

“It was,” Lilian said matter-of-factly. “The last time I came here, Moonweaver owed me a favor.”

She turned toward Albedo and spun lightly on her heel, “What do you think?”

He looked her up and down briefly, his tone flat but genuine. “It suits you.”

Lilian smiled broadly, “Perfect.”

Elara giggled, eyes gleaming with curiosity as she continued browsing. “What about this?” she asked, holding up a faintly glowing scarf that rippled like moonlight on water. “It feels… warm, but cold?”

“That’s a lunar-thread weave,” the tailor explained, floating closer, “It keeps warmth within while reflecting harmful mana. A favorite among travelers and danger seekers,”

Lilian nudged Elara playfully, “Get it. It’ll match your eyes when the moon hits them.”

Elara blushed faintly but smiled, holding it up to her neck. The scarf adjusted instantly, wrapping around her shoulders like a soft whisper. Its light dimmed to match her aura perfectly, like it belonged there.

“…It’s amazing,” she murmured.

Lilian beamed. “See? Told you. Trust me, every adventurer needs at least one outfit that makes them look more mysterious than competent.”

Elara laughed, “I think I’m fine being competent.”

“Boring,” Lilian said, mock-dramatically, “Competence doesn’t turn heads. Besides, you can have both,”

The two girls smiled and moved around the store, eventually picking up a couple other pieces of clothing which they liked and decided to purchase.

After they finished browsing everything they wanted , the ghost tailor floated a small silver mirror toward them. “Payment accepted in soul-light, pure mana, or emotions willingly given.”

Lilian paid with a drop of her blood, the crimson liquid floating into the air before crystallizing into ruby light. The mirror absorbed it eagerly.

Elara paid with mana instead, the scarf shimmering once more as her energy resonated through it. The transaction left her dizzy for a moment, but Lilian steadied her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Careful,” the Vampire murmured, her voice softer now. “The market takes more than it gives if you’re careless.”

Elara nodded, smiling faintly, “I’ll remember that.”

Albedo just watched the exchange quietly, a contemplative look crossing his eyes.

When they stepped out again, the air had cooled further. The market had grown even stranger. The twin moons hung higher now, painting everything in deep violet and blue.

The crowd had changed — more spirits than living now, their faint murmurs overlapping like layers of forgotten dreams.

They wandered through stalls selling everything from glowing fruit that tasted like memories, to bracelets forged from fallen stars. Lilian bought Elara a small trinket, a pendant shaped like a crescent moon filled with liquid silver. “For research,” she said teasingly. “Or fashion.”

Elara smiled, tucking it carefully into her cloak, “Both.”

They laughed together as they continued browsing, and eventually, Lilian bought herself a dark choker with a ruby centerpiece that pulsed faintly. “For luck,” she claimed.

Albedo raised an eyebrow. “You don’t seem like the type who believes in luck.”

“I don’t,” she said, “But I like pretending I do.”

As they neared the end of the market, the music changed, faint chimes, ghostly flutes, and whispers like wind through crystal. The veil around the market began to thin. The spectral stalls flickered like candlelight, signaling the approaching end of its nightly existence.

They bought a couple more things and then eventually began their walk back toward the Veiled Lantern Inn, their bags filled with small treasures and memories.

The silence between them wasn’t awkward — it was peaceful, almost reverent. The kind of silence that came after wonder.

As they crossed the shimmering bridge leading back to the main streets, Albedo glanced back once, his gaze catching faint movement in the distance, two green eyes, faint and glowing, watching them from the mist.

Then, just as before, they vanished.

“Are we not gonna meet back up with Vex?” He asked.

“Don’t worry, we’ll return to the Shadow Isles after finishing up at the next Monument, so we can check on her then,” Lilian explained and Albedo nodded.

The trio stepped through the Inn’s threshold moments later. The faint hum of spectral warmth greeted them, and for the first time that night, it felt safe.

Elara exhaled deeply, clutching her scarf. Lilian smiled, hanging her new coat neatly by the door.

Albedo, standing by the window, glanced out at the market one last time, now dissolving into shadow.

“Quite the place,” he murmured.

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