Morning light filtered through the tavern's old windows, casting a soft glow across the wooden floor. Zen and Lyra, having just woken up,
"Good morning," Lyra said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, a faint blush on her cheeks.
Zen nodded, his voice calm. "Morning."
They finished their breakfast—freshly baked bread, fried eggs, a generous chunk of roasted chicken, and a sweet berry compote—served by the same smiling tavern girl from the night before.
Once their plates were cleared, Lyra stood up with a small smile. "Then let's go job hunting again today. We'll find something for you—I'm sure of it."
Zen gave a quiet nod, already reaching for his coat. "Let's not waste time, then."
The two of them spent part of the morning wandering the busy streets of Velaria, asking around for small jobs. Many tasks were too heavy, too risky, or simply unavailable for someone Zen's age. But eventually, they came across an elderly apothecary named Mireldan, who needed someone to help organize herbs, clean bottles, and deliver light packages within the market district.
Mireldan eyed Zen with skepticism at first. "You're just a lad… but your eyes don't lie. Alright. Six silver coins per day. Show up early, no laziness."
Zen nodded. "I'll do it."
With the job settled, Zen worked diligently through the afternoon. He sorted pungent herbs, swept the shop, and carefully handed over parcels to customers. Lyra visited occasionally, leaning against the doorframe to watch him work, arms crossed and lips curved in amusement.
At one point, she teased, "You look like a hardworking little house elf."
Zen glanced up, annoyed. "And you look like someone who's never worked a day in her life."
She grinned. "You know me so well."
Evening came, and the two returned to the bathhouse. Lyra peeked from behind her towel before they entered their respective sections.
"Don't get lost in the steam again," she teased.
Zen turned red. "Can you not?!"
Clean and refreshed, they returned to the tavern where a hearty dinner awaited: spiced lamb, potato stew, buttered bread, and a honey-glazed fruit tart for dessert. Zen ate slowly, savoring every bite, while Lyra poked fun at how seriously he took his food.
Back in their room, Zen placed his pillow on the floor again.
"You know," Lyra said, tugging at her blanket, "it wouldn't hurt to sleep on the bed just once."
Zen shook his head. "You take the bed. I'm fine."
She paused, watching him with soft eyes. "You're weird… but sweet."
He turned his back to her. "Sleep."
They lay in silence for a while, the gentle breeze through the window carrying the distant sounds of the city.
Just as Zen began to drift off, Lyra spoke in a whisper. "Thank you… for not treating me like a noble. Just like me."
He didn't answer, but his lips curled into a faint smile in the dark.
And so the day ended.