Langsung ke konten utama

πŸ“– Journal of DeLuna — Special Entry: The Jade Veil House

On our first evening in Lunaveil, I witnessed something that initially made no sense to me.

Several members of the caravan’s core crew separated their gold coins into two pouches.

One large.

One small.

The larger pouch was entrusted to Ryn.

I watched this happen in complete confusion.

At first, I assumed Lunaveil had an unusually high theft rate.

But that explanation immediately felt absurd.

Nothing about this city resembled desperation.

The streets were too clean.

The smiles too relaxed.

The atmosphere too soft.

And the crew themselves did not look afraid.

They looked excited.

I eventually asked one of them what they were doing.

He laughed immediately.

“Preventive measures.”

“Before we visit the city’s greatest attraction.”

I became even more confused.

When I asked where they planned to go, several of them answered almost simultaneously.

“The Jade Veil House.”

The name alone sounded elegant enough to make me curious.

So naturally I asked the next question.

“What do they offer there?”

The crew exchanged grins.

One of them leaned slightly closer before answering:

“They are very good with their hands and mouths.”

Before I could properly process what that meant, Ryn suddenly raised her voice.

“You pig!”

The force behind it startled me badly enough that several of the crew burst into laughter immediately afterward.

Ryn rubbed her forehead and told me very directly that I should absolutely not go there.

Unfortunately, curiosity has defeated logic for most of my life.

What possible danger could exist inside a famous tourist destination in the middle of a city this beautiful?

So naturally—

I went with them.

Ryn watched my departure with the expression of someone silently attending a funeral.

The Jade Veil House itself looked more like the residence of a noble family than an entertainment establishment.

Dark polished wood.

Soft jade lanterns.

Small gardens arranged so perfectly they no longer resembled nature.

Even the entrance pathway felt intentionally calming.

As though the building had already begun persuading visitors before they stepped inside.

The moment we entered, warm fragrant air surrounded us immediately.

Sandalwood.

Tea.

Night flowers.

Soft music drifting faintly from somewhere deeper inside the building.

Everything felt quiet.

Not empty.

Private.

Moonfen Sisters moved gracefully between rooms divided by silk curtains and soft lantern light.

Every movement looked impossibly deliberate.

Even breathing.

I began understanding very quickly why this place had such a terrifying reputation among the caravan crew.

Then I checked the prices.

They were expensive.

But not ruinously so.

Which only confused me further.

What exactly had Ryn been so worried about?

Shortly afterward, I was introduced to the Moonfen Sister assigned to accompany me for the evening.

Her name was Kitsu.

I am struggling to describe her properly.

Calling her beautiful feels incomplete.

Not because her face was flawless.

Though it was.

But because everything surrounding her felt beautiful.

The way she breathed.

The way she listened.

The way her sleeves shifted when she moved her hands.

Even silence around her somehow felt softer.

And strangely—

none of it made me feel small.

Quite the opposite.

For reasons I still cannot fully explain, sitting beside her created the overwhelming feeling that perhaps I deserved beautiful things too.

Meanwhile, one by one, members of the core crew slowly disappeared upstairs accompanied by other Moonfen Sisters.

I paid very little attention to this.

At the time, I was being taught a game called Go.

The rules felt deceptively simple.

Like chess stripped down to something cleaner and older.

I understood the basics almost immediately.

In fact, I became convinced rather quickly that the game itself was not particularly difficult.

And yet somehow—

I kept losing.

Every single match ended the same way.

I would feel certain I was winning.

Then several turns later, the board would collapse around me in ways I somehow failed to predict.

Kitsu always smiled softly afterward.

Never mocking.

Never superior.

Only encouraging enough to make me try again.

So naturally I continued playing for far longer than intended.

Eventually—

finally—

I won.

The amount of happiness I felt over that victory was deeply unreasonable.

Kitsu actually applauded lightly afterward.

Not exaggerated.

Genuine.

Then we spoke for what felt like hours.

Conversation with her was…

dangerously pleasant.

Not intoxicating in the dramatic sense.

Nothing overwhelming.

Nothing forceful.

It simply became increasingly difficult to imagine wanting to be anywhere else.

At some point during the night, Kitsu reached toward a small unopened flower resting inside a shallow bowl near the lanterns.

She brushed her fingers lightly against the petals.

And the flower bloomed instantly.

Slowly.

Silently.

Perfectly.

A few moments later, she lit a scented candle using fire that appeared briefly between her fingertips.

Not violently.

Gently.

Like a fire remembering it belonged there.

I stared at her in complete disbelief.

Magic.

Surely it was magic.

But Kitsu only smiled softly before shaking her head.

“Not magic,” she said.

I still do not understand what that means.

But somewhere during that moment, I finally understood what the caravan crew meant earlier.

The Moonfen Sisters truly were very good with their hands and mouths.

Because somehow—

through conversation, gestures, touch, beauty, tea, games, stories, and impossible little miracles—

they created comfort so complete it almost resembled enchantment.

I returned near dawn.

My coin pouch was nearly empty.

Only several silver coins remained.

Strangely enough—

I did not regret it at all.

Every experience inside The Jade Veil House felt worth more than what I paid.

And besides—

I once read somewhere that meaningful experiences rarely arrive cheaply.

So yes.

I became temporarily poor.

And somehow—

completely happy about it.

Komentar

Postingan populer dari blog ini

πŸ“– Journal of DeLuna — Entry II: The Powers Beneath the Crown

If the king of Dunskar stands at the peak… then beneath him lies a web that never truly rests. There are four powers here. Not equal—but none insignificant. The Nobility came first. Old families, their names carved into the foundations of the kingdom itself. They do not rule outright, but their bloodlines built Dunskar. Land, wealth, influence—most of it flows through them. Some smile at the crown. Others measure it. Then, the Church of the Sun. They worship Solus, the ever-burning eye above the world. Their temples are quiet, but their reach is not. Faith here is not forced… yet somehow, it is everywhere. Even soldiers bow their heads before battle. I cannot tell if they serve the king… or if the king simply allows them to exist. The third is… unusual. The Guild. Not a government body, yet somehow essential. They write the guidebooks—records of monsters, ruins, forbidden paths. To adventurers, it is survival itself. To the crown? A tool, perhaps. Or a risk. Information is ...

‎πŸ“– Journal of DeLuna — Entry I: Dunskar

‎Dunskar is not ruled by age. ‎It is ruled by presence. ‎I arrived expecting a kingdom bound by tradition—an old king, a fixed line of succession, predictable order. I was wrong. ‎ ‎The throne of Dunskar does not belong to the eldest child, nor the firstborn. It belongs to the one who can take it… without tearing the kingdom apart. ‎Every ruler must carry the blood of the previous king—this much is sacred. But blood alone is not enough. Among the royal lineage, they choose. ‎ ‎Not by simple decree, but by a form of judgment. Influence. Strength. Charisma. The ability to command not just soldiers… but belief. ‎ ‎They call it a “vote,” though it feels less like democracy and more like quiet warfare. Alliances form in whispers. Loyalty is tested long before the crown is placed. ‎ ‎A weak heir is never crowned. ‎A strong one is rarely unchallenged. ‎The current king—whoever he may be—does not simply inherit power. ‎He survives for it. ‎ ‎And perhaps that is why the people do no...

πŸ“– Journal of DeLuna — Special Entry: The Weight of Knowing

We left the gathering behind. The colors faded first. Then the voices. Then the sense that the world was… wider than I could follow. For days, we walked. The ground changed slowly. Red gave way to something softer. Not yet green—but no longer harsh. And still—I found my attention returning to the same person. Sondre Eldar. Though no one calls him that unless they must. To most, he is simply the Caravan Master. I had watched him before. Everyone does. But not like this. Not with questions that refuse to settle. It began with a memory. A sound I could not place. Clicks. Tongue against teeth. The language of the Siltfang. I had heard it clearly. And I had heard him answer. Just as clearly. For several days, I said nothing. It felt… inappropriate to ask. As if the answer would not be given freely. Or worse—as if it would. He noticed before I spoke. “Something on your mind,” he said. Not a question. Just an observation. I asked anyway. About the language. He did not answer immed...