Today we stayed at a small inn outside Dunskar.
Not a luxurious inn.
Not a noble inn.
Just an ordinary inn.
Which was wonderful.
There was a roof.
A bed.
Food.
And most importantly—
no auction.
I am beginning to appreciate simplicity.
After what happened yesterday, I did not speak to anyone for quite some time.
Mostly because I was still recovering from emotional damage.
Then this morning, Ryn visited my room.
She knocked politely.
Entered.
Sat beside me.
And asked whether I was feeling alright.
I answered honestly.
"No."
A pause.
"I don't think I can get married anymore."
Ryn stared at me.
Completely motionless.
The kind of expression people make when their brain suddenly forgets how language works.
Eventually she asked what I meant.
So I explained.
My panties had been seen.
Not by one man.
Several men.
Old Shard had held them.
According to Mother, if something like that happened, marriage would become impossible.
For several seconds, Ryn remained completely silent.
Then her shoulders started shaking.
At first I thought she was crying.
I felt terrible.
Then I realized she was trying not to laugh.
Unfortunately, she failed.
Spectacularly.
She doubled over.
Covered her face.
And laughed so hard I became mildly offended.
Between laughs, I heard her mutter:
"Royal teaching..."
Which somehow felt even more offensive.
When she finally recovered enough to breathe normally, she explained.
According to her, advice like that was never meant literally.
It was simply something mothers told daughters to encourage them to be careful.
I informed her that my mother was very serious.
Ryn replied that all mothers are serious.
I was unconvinced.
Then she assured me that if I someday met the right person, I could absolutely still get married.
I remained uncertain.
Perhaps different regions have different customs.
Ryn looked as though she wanted to argue further.
Then wisely chose not to.
Instead she simply continued reassuring me.
Eventually she even said my panties looked cute.
I became slightly embarrassed.
Mostly confused.
Because that immediately created a new question.
What kind of panties does Ryn wear?
Looking back, I should have remained silent.
Curiosity remains my greatest weakness.
I asked.
Ryn laughed again.
Then informed me she genuinely had no idea how I survived this long.
I felt slightly insulted.
Only slightly.
Then she began explaining.
Apparently there are many different kinds of panties.
Different fabrics.
Different shapes.
Different purposes.
This was already far more information than I expected.
Then, without warning—
Ryn pulled her trousers down slightly.
And showed me.
My mouth immediately fell open.
I will not be recording details.
Some knowledge should remain private.
What I will say is this:
At that moment, I experienced a strange mixture of surprise, admiration, confusion, and jealousy.
Mostly jealousy.
Though I am still not entirely sure why.
Ryn noticed.
Of course she noticed.
She notices everything.
Then she smiled and asked:
"So does that mean I can't get married now?"
I blinked.
She pointed out that I had just seen hers.
I informed her the rule only applied when men saw them.
Ryn closed her eyes.
Took a long breath.
The sort of breath merchants take before explaining taxes to children.
Then she patiently explained that panties were not fundamentally different from ordinary pants.
The word itself apparently came from smaller versions of pants.
Pantaloons.
Pants.
Panties.
I am still not fully convinced.
But she sounded very confident.
Then she asked another question.
Did I become upset whenever someone saw my trousers hanging out to dry?
I admitted that I did not.
Did Old Shard intentionally look?
Absolutely not.
Should Old Shard apologize?
I shook my head so hard my neck hurt.
No.
Absolutely not.
Please.
Never mention it again.
Ryn immediately understood.
For that, I was grateful.
Then her expression softened.
And she said something that made me feel unexpectedly better.
She told me that Mother's advice was not wrong.
Just flexible.
A guideline.
Not a law.
Then she added that everything would be fine.
And if anyone laughed at me—
She would personally beat them up.
I know she was joking.
Probably.
But hearing it still helped.
For a moment, she stopped being the terrifying merchant who confiscates my spending money whenever I become irresponsible.
She stopped being the Silver-ranked Porter.
Stopped being the heir of Roderick Street.
And simply became Ryn.
The closest thing I have ever had to an older sister.
Which is a surprisingly comforting realization.
Outside, Caravan Master and Old Shard spent most of the day arguing.
About something.
I honestly do not know what.
I am not convinced they know either.
Every hour the topic appeared to change.
Yet somehow the argument continued.
I also discovered something important.
Caravan Master is capable of speaking far more than one hundred words per day.
Apparently he simply requires the correct opponent.
Old Shard, unfortunately, qualifies.
As for the panties incident—
Everyone appears to have forgotten.
Or at least they are pretending to.
No one has mentioned it.
No one has looked at me strangely.
No one has laughed.
Which somehow feels more suspicious.
Still.
My heart feels lighter now.
Thanks to Ryn.
Perhaps she is right.
Perhaps everything really will be alright.
And perhaps—
just perhaps—
I can still get married someday.
I certainly hope so.
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