"Hey, you! Watch where you're going! You could've cracked my skull open!"

The voice belonged to a girl with pink hair and matching eyes—an unusual combination that clashed with the fire in her glare... though there was something else beneath it, something calm. Pretty, I admitted, though now wasn't the time for aesthetic evaluations.

I didn’t respond immediately. Come on, you can’t blame me for bumping into someone in pitch darkness. If we were assigning fault, she’d crashed into me out of nowhere. But I wasn’t looking for a fight.

"Hey! This is your fault! If you hadn’t popped up like a ghost, my brother wouldn’t have hit you!" Isolde shouted before I could mediate. Well, so much for a peaceful resolution.

"Excuse me?! If you hadn’t been skulking around here, I wouldn’t have a bruised forehead!"

"Issy—" I tried to cut in, but my sister’s determination was impenetrable.

"What?! It is your fault. If you’d brought an oil lamp, you’d have seen us."

He took a step forward, jabbing his finger at the air with that energy that meant he wasn't going to lose. But then—

"And why didn’t you bring one?"

...

Silence.

Really, Issy? Are you going to lose like this?

I stood and offered the girl a hand up. "Sorry. Didn’t see you." I gave a slight bow—just for courtesy’s sake.

"Hmph!" She turned her head away. Seriously? I apologized. What more did she want?

"Ugh… Whatever. Fine. I should apologize too. It was kinda my fault."

Oh. Unexpected. I’d braced for the classic stubborn-rich-kid routine, but she folded faster than I’d anticipated. Maybe first impressions were misleading.

"How can I make it up to you?" she pressed.

"Huh? No, don’t worry about it."

"Come on, at least let me give you something! I’ll feel awful otherwise."

Why the insistence? Gifts from strangers in dark alleys weren’t exactly wise to accept.

"Really, it’s fine. We need to go." I grabbed Isolde’s hand—she was still itching for a rebuttal. She hated losing arguments. With me, she’d retaliate by climbing onto my bed at night or pelting me with water balls. A concerning habit.

"Wait! Why won’t you let me—?!"

"Lucy, why won’t you take something from that ‘ugly’ girl?" Isolde interjected, dripping provocation.

The pink-haired girl’s eye twitched. "Hey! Ugh—! Forget it! I tried being nice, but now I’m mad!"

Ah, mood swings. Perfect. I take back my earlier thought—she is the kind of woman I had anticipated.

"Let’s go, Issy. Mom’ll scold us if we’re late."

I bolted, dragging Isolde with me. One last glance back: the girl wasn’t watching us. She’d already turned and stalked off.

A strange encounter. But there was something about her… a flicker of familiarity I couldn’t place. Had I seen her before? Pink hair wasn’t exactly common. Maybe a noble’s daughter? Better not assume.

"Why didn’t you take her gift?" Isolde panted, keeping pace as we weaved through the thinning crowd.

I stopped.

Best to explain now—with a white lie for credibility. This wasn’t something I’d been taught here, but it was basic common sense from my past life.

"Father once said never accept things from strangers. Could be poisoned… or a trick to enslave you."

"Ohhh… Well, if Father said it, you did right, Lucy!"

"Yeah, yeah. Let’s move before Mom grounds us."

We took off running. Exploration time was over. Maybe tomorrow we’d cover more ground—faster, and with fewer surprises.