Lilya slowly lowered her hands, then gave a firm nod—not as some dramatic declaration, but as a small decision born from calm resolve. She walked toward the wardrobe in the corner of her room, opened its slightly creaking door, and slipped out of her nightwear with simple, unhesitant movements. Her fingers traced the neatly hung clothes until they stopped at a softly colored dress with a modest cut—not flashy, not stiff. Loose enough to move freely, neat enough to meet others without feeling awkward.

  The fabric was light, falling naturally along her body without emphasizing anything unnecessarily, as if it were made for someone who wanted to work, walk, and laugh without constantly worrying about appearances.

  She put it on calmly, smoothing the folds at her waist, then glanced briefly at her reflection in the mirror.

  No armor.

  No title.

  Just herself, as she was.

  “Cecilia told me to rest…” Lilya murmured softly, staring at her reflection, her brows slightly furrowed.

  Her hand clenched faintly at her side.

  “But after seeing my status… it just feels… kind of… unsettling.”

  Her voice carried frustration—not from physical exhaustion, but from a mind that refused to settle.

  She let out a short breath, then shook her head sharply, as if trying to shake those thoughts away.

  “No, Lilya. Forget about it!” she said firmly to her reflection.

  “Just do what you can today!”

  She raised both hands to fix her slightly messy blond hair, tucking stray strands behind her ears with practiced ease. Slowly, her expression softened.

  The crease in her brow faded, replaced by a small, honest smile—the smile of someone choosing to move forward, even if the world inside her hadn’t fully calmed yet.

  “All right!” she said lightly, as if today were just another ordinary day…

  Even though something clearly felt a little different.

  Lilya opened the front door and stepped outside.

  Morning light greeted her—warm but not blinding. The air of Eldwyn Village was as fresh as ever, slightly humid and mixed with the scent of soil, straw, and smoke from newly lit kitchens. Roosters crowed from several directions, accompanied by the clatter of wood and the quiet chatter of villagers already starting their day.

  A normal day.

  At least, on the surface.

  Lilya stepped out and gently closed the door behind her. The moment her feet touched the dirt road, her chest felt lighter—not excitement, but readiness. As if her body and mind had quietly agreed to move forward today, even with lingering caution.

  “Morning, Lilya.”

  The voice came from her right. Lilya turned to see a middle-aged man standing by a low wooden fence, surrounded by several woven baskets filled with light-brown eggs. He wasn’t very tall, but broad-shouldered, and his face always carried a faintly worried look, even when he wasn’t actually panicking.

  Lilya’s eyes immediately locked onto something—not his face, but what hovered faintly above his head, transparent yet unmistakably clear.

  [Harley Grinwood – Poultry Farmer Lv. 23]

  “…I’m seeing it again?” she whispered, barely more than a breath escaping her lips. She instinctively rubbed her eyes—once, twice—but the transparent text above the man’s head didn’t disappear.

  Her heart began to race.

  Because she had seen the exact same thing above Cecilia’s head when she first woke up from fainting yesterday.

  “Is something wrong, Lilya?” Harley asked, puzzled by her strange reaction.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Lilya flinched.

  “Eh—ah! I’m fine!” she replied hastily, her voice slightly higher than usual. She waved her hand lightly, trying to look casual despite her pounding heart. “Just… got startled for a moment.”

  Harley studied her for a few seconds, then chuckled softly as his expression returned to normal. “If you’re still dizzy, you shouldn’t force yourself to work.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Lilya replied quickly.

  But when her gaze shifted—her breath caught.

  Behind Harley, a housewife passed by carrying a basket of bread.

  [Marin Felstead – Baker Lv. 18]

  By the roadside, two children ran while chasing each other.

  [Theo – Child Lv. 5]

  [Anya – Child Lv. 4]

  In the distance, a man led a horse by the reins.

  [Rowan Elwick – Stable Hand Lv. 27]

  Names. Levels. Job classes.

  They all appeared neatly, steadily, and far too clearly—floating calmly above everyone’s heads, as if the world had suddenly turned into a massive interface screen she never asked for.

  “…Everyone,” Lilya whispered.

  [Auto Appraisal]

  The skill name surfaced in her mind as if she had always known it.

  “Is this skill… in my status?” her thoughts whispered in panic.

  “And why is it always active like this…?”

  Lilya wanted to confirm it by checking her status again.

  “No. Not again,” she thought. “I’m not ready to see everything yet.”

  She had already had enough shock for a week. Her heart clearly wouldn’t survive seeing a list of new skills appearing out of nowhere. Lilya took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus on the real world—not on the transparent text still floating above people’s heads.

  “Lilya?” Harley’s voice sounded closer now, filled with concern. “Are you sure you don’t need to rest? You look pale.”

  The text above his head was still there.

  Lilya resisted the urge to close her eyes for too long.

  She lifted her head and smiled—a small, slightly stiff smile, but convincing enough for someone who didn’t know anything.

  “I-I’m really fine,” she said quickly. “Really.”

  Harley narrowed his eyes briefly, weighing her words. Finally, he sighed and nodded. “If you say so…”

  Lilya knew that if this conversation continued, she might slip up—or actually faint for real. So before Harley could ask anything else, she quickly stepped forward and pointed at the baskets of eggs beside him.

  “Speaking of that,” she said, deliberately brightening her tone.

  “You’re selling these fresh eggs to the city today, right? Want some help?”

  Harley blinked, then his face lit up.

  “Oh—ah, that’s right!” he said, clapping his hands together. “Today’s when the traveling merchants come.”

  He scratched the back of his neck, his usual awkward smile appearing. “Lilya… could you help me negotiate like usual?”

  He laughed lightly, an honest but resigned laugh. “You know me—I’m hopeless when it comes to prices.”

  Lilya let out a breath of relief—not because the task was easy, but because the topic finally shifted to

  something familiar.

  Something normal.

  She smiled more genuinely this time.

  “Leave it to me,” she said lightly, raising her hand with simple confidence.

  It wasn’t arrogance.

  It was habit.

  Once a month, Eldwyn Village was visited by traveling merchants—people from the city who bought livestock, grain, milk, and eggs in bulk to resell. Some were honest.

  Some… not so much.

  And this particular merchant was known to be “slick.”

  Sweet talk. Twisted words. Pressing prices down with arguments that sounded reasonable—if you didn’t listen carefully.

  That was why Lilya was often asked to help.

  Not because she was good at math.

  Not because she was brave.

  But because Lilya’s intuition was sharp—too sharp, according to some. She always knew when someone was lying, withholding information, or hiding behind a thin smile.

  Tiny things. Tone. Eye movement. Breathing pauses.

  “Then I’ll prepare the extra baskets,” Harley said with relief. “Thanks, Lilya.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She turned and walked alongside Harley down the village road, her steps relaxed, as if today truly were just another ordinary day.

  But at the edge of her vision, the transparent text remained—floating, silent, and completely indifferent to her wishes.

  “Calm down,” she told herself.

  “Just act normal, Lilya.”

  When they reached the small field at the edge of the village, the atmosphere was far livelier than the main road. Several large carts covered in thick brown cloth were parked neatly, their wooden wheels still dusty from a long journey. The horses stood calmly chewing hay while villagers gathered with their produce.

  The merchants’ caravan had arrived.

  At the center of the commotion stood a slender man with a thin beard groomed a bit too carefully, busy talking while jotting notes onto a wooden clipboard. His coat was neat, his shoes clean—clearly not a villager.

  When he looked up and saw who had come with Harley, his expression froze.

  “Oh, are you here to sell—”

  He stopped mid-sentence.

  His eyes widened.

  “Geh—?! Lilya?!”

  Several villagers turned their heads at his reaction.

  Lilya stopped and offered a polite, familiar smile—the kind that made the man uneasy.

  “Good morning, Mr. Erwin,” she said calmly.

  “Let’s have a pleasant transaction today.”

  [Erwin Holt – Traveling Merchant Lv. 41]

  The text hovered clearly above his head.

  Erwin reflexively covered his face with his clipboard and let out a long sigh, as if bracing himself.

  “…Nice weather today,” he muttered weakly.

  “Why is it that every time I come to Eldwyn, you’re always here?”

  Lilya tilted her head slightly, looking innocent. “Just a coincidence.”

  Harley cleared his throat awkwardly. “Erwin, these are this month’s eggs.”

  Hearing the numbers and seeing the baskets, Erwin’s merchant instincts kicked in. He lowered his clipboard, glanced at the eggs, then at Lilya, then back at the eggs.

  “All right,” he said, regaining his professional tone. “The quantity is decent. But as usual, market prices are—”

  “Seven hundred fifty gold,” Lilya cut in casually yet firmly.

  “And thirty silver.”

  Erwin choked on his breath. “Straight to that?!”

  Lilya smiled sweetly. “We’re both busy. More efficient.”

  She stepped slightly closer, lowering her voice just enough to sound like a not-so-secret whisper.

  “Don’t worry,” she continued confidently.

  “I guarantee this month’s eggs are far better than usual.”

  Erwin narrowed his eyes. “That’s what you said last month.”

  “And it was true, wasn’t it?”

  “….”

  He fell silent for a few seconds, then let out a short sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

  “Fine,” he said at last, scribbling the numbers down.

  “The quality in this village really is the best in the Empire.”

  Harley nearly dropped his basket in relief.

  “Thank you so much, Erwin!” he said repeatedly.

  Erwin waved weakly. “Yeah, yeah… next time, at least warn me if you’re bringing her.”

  Lilya simply smiled, as if it were a small compliment.

  After the transaction, Lilya helped several other villagers—assisting with weighing grain, calming worried mothers about milk prices, even separating two children arguing over who spotted the caravan first.

  Her steps halted when a voice she knew all too well sounded from behind.

  “Lilya.”

  The tone was calm—too calm. Lilya’s body tensed instinctively.

  She turned slowly to see Cecilia standing a short distance away, carrying a woven basket full of fresh herbs. Her shoulder-length brown hair was slightly messy, a few strands clinging to her cheeks, and her face showed the fatigue of someone who had been up in the hills since morning.

  [Cecilia Veldrin – Herbalist Lv. 12]

  The transparent text hovered clearly above her head.

  “…You were told to rest,” Cecilia said flatly.

  Lilya laughed weakly, a stiff smile forming. “Technically, I was just talking.”

  “Talking.” Cecilia took a step closer.

  “Negotiating.”

  “Setting prices.”

  Lilya stepped back half a pace. “It was reflex.”

  Cecilia let out a long sigh—a sigh Lilya had heard far too many times, and which always ended the same way.

  “Lilya,” she said again, her voice lower, “you fainted yesterday.”

  “Only for a bit.”

  “A bit that made me stay up all night.”

  Lilya opened her mouth, then closed it again. “I can explain.”

  “Not now.”

  Cecilia shifted the herb basket to her other hand. “We’re going home. You’ll drink soup. Then you’ll sleep.”

  “…Tea first?”

  “No.”

  “…Soup and tea?”

  Cecilia’s gaze sharpened.

  “Sleep,” she repeated.

  Lilya smiled weakly. “Okay.”

  Even as she was scolded without mercy, Lilya couldn’t stop the small smile lingering on her face.

  Today really did feel normal—

  Just… a little too busy.