Chapter 120: Following the Trail of Sugar
Chapter 120: Following the Trail of Sugar
Elyn’s POV
I had circled the same stretch of street more than three times.
By the fourth, I stopped pretending it was accidental.
Demons flowed around me in an unbroken current—horns, tails, wings, fur, scales—every shape imaginable brushing past as if I were nothing more than another stone in the road. Laughter burst from somewhere to my left. Music clanged and hummed and throbbed from hidden corners. The festival didn’t care that I had lost two of the most dangerous beings in the realm.
Zorathys was gone.
Azerion was gone.
And I was standing alone in a territory I barely understood, surrounded by creatures who I suspected absolutely would not hesitate to take advantage of that fact if they realized it.
I stopped in the middle of the street.
Someone hissed in annoyance as they had to swerve around me. A wing clipped my shoulder too, but I didn’t care.
Think, Elyn.
I closed my eyes and dragged in a breath, forcing myself to slow down. Panic would help no one. Panic, historically, had only ever made things worse.
I replayed the last moments in my head.
Zorathys had been ahead of us, complaining under his breath. Azerion had been right beside me. I had been holding his hand—very deliberately—because this was a festival, because he wandered, because—
My stomach growled.
Loudly.
I froze.
"...You have got to be kidding me," I muttered.
A few demons glanced my way, amused. I ignored them, dread creeping into my chest as I realized something.
Snacks.
Azerion was a Syrenthis. A snake demon whose loyalty could be temporarily overruled by sugar. And this wasn’t just any day—it was a festival in the beast territory. There were stalls everywhere, overflowing with delicacies, sweets, syrups, preserved fruits, fried things, baked things, things that probably violated several natural laws and tasted better for it.
I rubbed a hand down my face slowly.
I had been scanning the streets searching for someone who looked like Zorathys when I should have been checking the stalls instead.
But before I started searching, I was going to get something to eat first. Besides, I couldn’t do the work on an empty stomach.
The nearest stall sold something that looked deceptively simple.
Round. Golden-brown. A bread bun, split neatly down the middle.
But when the vendor opened one for another customer, I saw what was inside—a thick black substance, glossy like jam but darker, almost obsidian. There were pieces of fruit folded into it, soft and jewel-toned, steaming faintly.
It smelled incredible.
"I’ll take one," I said.
The vendor—a tall beast demon with curling horns and fur patterned like bark—grinned and handed it over.
I thanked him, then took a bite of the pastry.
"Oh my!"
"Oh my, this is good," I said with a mouthful.
If only Kethra was here, I would have asked if she could prepare something like this.
The flavor bloomed across my tongue—rich, smoky, balanced by the fruit in a way that made my toes curl slightly inside my boots.
"Oh," I murmured, licking my lips. "Oh wow."
Holding the bun with both hands like it was precious, I started moving again, eyes scanning stalls this time.
Jars stacked high. Trays of candied nuts. Skewers dripping syrup. Bottles glowing faintly from whatever fermented madness they contained.
I wonder if— oh, no need. I think I’ve found who I’m looking for.
I heard the voice of a woman shouting loudly.
"You thief!"
She had an accent that sounded southern... at least it would have been labeled southern in my previous world.
You know that thing that happens when you subconsciously know that whatever is happening is related to someone you know or is about them? Yes, that’s the feeling I had right now. I didn’t even need to see him yet. I already knew it was Azerion.
Swallowing the last bite of my bun, I broke into a jog, weaving through the crowd toward the sound.
The stall was surrounded by onlookers—some curious, some entertained. At the center stood a very small, very green woman wielding a broom like a weapon.
I skidded to a stop and stared.
She was... green-green. Skin like polished jade. She was extremely short—she wasn’t even up to my hip. And she had a pointed nose too. I could sharpen a knife on the top of her nose. There was a red scarf with small yellow flowers decorated on it, tied on her head.
Oh my. She was a goblin. I was seeing a real goblin. There were numerous piercings on her lips and pointed ears... a goblin with style.
I honestly didn’t know why this surprised me. Of course goblins existed here. This realm had demon kings, fox demons, sirens, cryptids, and sentient shadows. Goblins were practically mundane by comparison.
And standing directly across from her, looking entirely unbothered by the threat of blunt-force trauma, was Azerion.
Sticky black syrup coated his fingers. He was licking it off lazily, tongue flicking as his eyes half-lidded in contentment. His posture was relaxed, tail swaying behind him like this was the most peaceful moment of his day.
The fact that he was relaxed wasn’t even surprising. And here I was, panicking about him.
"You little thief!" the goblin woman shouted, jabbing the broom toward him. "I’ll report you to the authorities!"
Azerion just shrugged like she hadn’t just said she’d report him to the authorities. Instead, he reached for another jar.
The woman’s broom lifted higher.
And then I rushed forward, hands up. "Wait—wait! I’m... we are so sorry!"
Both of them paused.
The goblin turned on me instantly. "You’re with him?!"
"Yes," I said quickly. "Unfortunately. He’s my cousin. Azrael. He—uh—has a sweet tooth problem."
Azerion glanced at me. "It’s not a problem."
"It’s a problem," I hissed through my teeth.
The goblin crossed her arms. "He stole from me. You’ll pay for everything he destroyed and took."
I nodded immediately. "Of course. How much?"
"Eighty thousand gabin."
I blinked in shock. "What?"
"Eighty. Thousand. Gabin."
That number felt wrong. Even without understanding the full value of gabin yet, my instincts screamed at me.
I hesitated, fingers already brushing my pouch, when Azerion spoke.
"She’s scamming you."
The goblin gasped. "Excuse me?!"
"What I took isn’t worth eighty thousand," Azerion said calmly. "You caught me with one jar. One. And the rule is to pay for the only thing you catch a demon taking."
The woman huffed. "But you finished six jars already."
"It’s not my fault you didn’t cover them well. The smell was tempting."
"You destroyed my stall too. That tail of yours swishing like it has a mind of its own," she told him.
"Then we can pay for the damages and this jar, but nothing else," Azerion told her.
"And we wouldn’t be paying for anything if you didn’t go missing," I told Azerion.
He gave me an innocent look, and I sighed, then turned to the woman.
"How much for the damages and the jar?"
"Three thousand gabin."
I nodded, then counted out the currency carefully and handed it to her. She snatched it, then pointed the broom at Azerion.
"Out."
"But I haven’t finished my drink," he whined.
I grabbed his wrist and dragged him away before he could commit another crime.
"You are unbelievable," I muttered as I hauled him through the crowd.
"I really didn’t steal," he told me. "I only took it from her because—"
"...it was sweet?"
He nodded, then gave me a smile that brightened his face. And at that point, I couldn’t even remain angry at him.
"I told you not to wander, so I’m mad at you. You better stay by my side while we look for Zorathys, or next time, you are not coming with me."
His fake ears dropped and his shoulders slumped. "I’m sowie," he said to me.