The streets outside Zamir's shop were thriving. People zipped past with baskets in hand, some deep in negotiations, others chatting like they had all the time in the world. The sun beamed down, making the cobblestones shine, while vendors called out their latest deals in a never-ending sales pitch.
But despite the warm, storybook-like atmosphere, Katherine felt… off.
"This is literally a medieval marketplace. Straight out of Beauty and the Beast. I feel like Belle—minus the talking furniture and the terrifying beastly fiancé."
She slowed her pace, taking in the rows of colorful stalls. Fresh produce, spices, rolls of fabric swaying in the breeze, and hand-carved trinkets lined every corner. The air smelled like fresh bread and something sweet—probably candied nuts.
"There goes the baker with his tray, like always… The same old bread and rolls to sell…—charot."
She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. As much as she wanted to twirl dramatically in the middle of the street, she was trying to keep a low profile. That, and she didn't need anyone calling the medieval psych ward on her.
A loud growwwl from her stomach dragged her back to reality. Right. Food first, existential crisis later.
Following the irresistible scent of fresh bread, she found a tiny market tucked between two larger shops. A weathered wooden sign swayed above the door, looking one strong breeze away from falling. Inside, the air was warm and welcoming, filled with the cozy clatter of coins and friendly chatter.
Behind the counter stood an older woman with brown hair and sharp yet kind eyes. She took one look at Katherine and smiled.
"Looking for something to eat, dear?"
Katherine hesitated for a moment. She still wasn't sure of the social customs here—what was considered polite, what was considered odd. But her hunger outweighed her uncertainty.
"Yes, something simple, please," she answered.
The woman nodded and quickly wrapped a portion of bread and cheese in linen, her practiced hands moving with ease.
"I was just singing about bread, and now someone hands me bread. Magic."
Katherine reached into the pouch Philemon had given her, her fingers brushing against unfamiliar coins. Panic flickered in her chest—she didn't know the currency, let alone how much anything cost. Fumbling, she pulled out two small gold coins, hoping they weren't wildly over or under what she owed.
"I—I don't know how much this costs," she admitted, embarrassment creeping into her voice. "I'm new here and… I don't know the exchange rates."
The woman's gaze flickered to the coins, then back to Katherine's face. Instead of getting scammed, like she half-expected, the woman simply chuckled.
"Don't worry, dear. I'll take what you have."
Katherine frowned. "Wait, what if I just gave you, like, a whole fortune?"
The woman shrugged. "Then I'd be a very lucky shopkeeper."
Well. That was fair.
"Consider it a gift," the woman added. "Everyone needs a little kindness now and then."
Katherine's heart squeezed. There was something so painfully wholesome about this place sometimes.
"Thanks," she said, genuinely meaning it.
With her precious meal secured, she plopped down on a bench outside. The first bite of soft bread and creamy cheese nearly made her sigh in relief. Finally, real food.
"Tastes good. Still not Ensaymada, though."
Her thoughts drifted as she ate. She hadn't really processed everything yet—the sudden isekai, the medieval setting, the fact that she had, y'know, died. But there was no point in wallowing.
"Did I regret it?"
She took another bite.
No. She didn't.
After finishing her meal, she wandered further down the street, eventually stumbling upon a cozy café wedged between two larger stone buildings. A wave of nostalgia hit her.
"Cafés… my one true love."
Unable to resist, she stepped inside.
The interior was warm and inviting, filled with the scent of fresh coffee and baked goods. Merchants, nobles, and common folk sat side by side, engaged in quiet conversations. It was the perfect place to sip something warm and people-watch.
Flipping through the menu, she frowned. No iced coffee. Tragic.
"Right. Medieval setting. No espresso machines."
Sighing, she resigned herself to a simple hot brew.
When the coffee arrived, she cradled the warm cup in her hands, inhaling deeply before taking a sip.
The taste was bold and rich, surprisingly close to what she used to drink back home. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring it.
"Okay, this is actually really good. Maybe I can survive here after all."
As she sipped, a hushed conversation from a nearby table caught her attention. The voices were low but urgent.
"War's coming, no doubt about it," a man muttered. "The front lines are shifting, and we'll be next if we're not prepared."
A woman sighed, her tone tense. "Our resources are already stretched thin. If the enemy pushes south, we might not hold."
Another voice, younger and tinged with worry, spoke. "And what about the civilians? What happens to those of us who aren't soldiers?"
Katherine stilled, her fingers tightening around her cup. The weight of their words felt disturbingly real. War wasn't just a plot device here—it was a looming reality.
Before she could think better of it, she stood and approached their table.
"Fighting isn't the only way to help a kingdom," she said, keeping her voice even.
Katherine, realizing she was now the center of attention, decided to roll with it.
"If you throw everything into the war effort—food, money, manpower—what happens to the people left behind?" she asked. "A kingdom isn't just its army. If you don't take care of farmers, merchants, healers—who's going to take care of you?"
A mercenary scoffed. "You sound like some noble's pampered daughter."
Katherine smirked. "You sound like someone who's never had to survive without a supply chain."
That made him shut up.
The soldier, though, looked thoughtful. "You're saying we should focus on logistics?"
"Yes! Exactly!" Katherine leaned forward. "Look, history—uh, stories—are full of kingdoms that won wars but lost everything else. You know why? Because they forgot about the people not holding swords."
The group exchanged glances. The mood shifted slightly, from skepticism to consideration.
"Alright," the soldier said slowly. "And if war is inevitable?"
Katherine sipped her coffee. "Then you start making allies."
The noble scoffed. "The North doesn't trust outsiders."
Katherine shrugged. "Then give them a reason to. If they think you're weak, they'll see you as easy pickings. If they think you're strong but reasonable, you might get a different outcome."
The table fell silent.
Feeling that her TED Talk was over, Katherine turned to leave—only to lock eyes with a figure standing by the door.
A tall young man. Dark hair. Piercing red eyes.
His expression was unreadable, but his attention was unmistakable. He had been watching her this whole time.
A shiver ran down her spine.
"Well. That's probably fine. Definitely not foreshadowing anything important."
Still feeling his gaze on her, she stepped outside—pretending not to feel very unsettled.