NOVEL NEXT Chapter 52: Almeria
"I could get you a healer," suggested a well-dressed man, his concerned gaze fixed on Natalia, who sat gracefully on a plush velvet couch in the expansive building.
"No need for that," she replied with a small, reassuring smile. "He'll be fine. He just exhausted his ether pool." She adjusted her position slightly, ensuring the unconscious young man's head remained comfortable on her lap. "Just get me my order."
The man nodded respectfully and hurried away, his footsteps echoing across the marble floor.
Natalia's eyes swept around the magnificent interior with practiced appreciation. Almeria—the merchant company that had somehow managed to corner the market on everything from basic healing potions to the legendary limb-regenerating elixirs that cost more than most people's houses. They were ruthlessly efficient, monopolizing huge sectors of the alchemical trade
According to rumor, their headquarters was located at Arcane itself, with branches sprawling across kingdoms like an elaborate spider web. It didn't matter if you were human, elf, or something with more tentacles than social skills—if there was an organized community, Almeria had planted their flag there. They scaled their operations perfectly too: tiny outposts in remote villages, and grand establishments like this one in major cities. It was a strategy designed not just to expand their reach, but to crush any potential rivals before they could even get started.
This particular branch towered five stories high, marking it as one of the major hubs serving both the Ezram and Montellia kingdoms. As for Albion, well, they had an absolutely massive branch in the capital that might—or might not—rival this one, depending on who you asked and how much they'd had to drink.
The place buzzed with activity. Smaller merchants clustered around displays, buying in bulk with the desperate efficiency of people whose livelihoods depended on getting good deals. Alchemists wandered the aisles with the focused intensity of scholars in a library, occasionally stopping to examine ingredients with magnifying glasses and muttered calculations.
The entire space was bathed in a radiant golden glow from an enormous chandelier suspended overhead—a crystalline masterpiece that probably cost more than most people's annual income. The walls were painted a rich, sleek green, with strategically placed sconces that enhanced the overall atmosphere of wealth and sophistication. It was the kind of place that made you feel both impressed and slightly inadequate.
Despite the army of attendants and cashiers moving about with practiced efficiency, queues still stretched across the floor. The only reason Natalia had managed to skip the lines was her golden card—well, technically her father's golden card, but nobody needed to know that. The privileges that came with constant patronage had made these shopping trips significantly less tedious over the years, especially when her 'medicines' ran out.
"Ugh..." A soft groan interrupted her observations.
She tilted her head to find Asher stirring from unconsciousness. Throughout their entire time here, she'd kept him positioned on her lap, and surprisingly, she felt no discomfort. Perhaps the numbness in her legs was actually a blessing in disguise.
"Wait," she said gently as he attempted to sit up, keeping him down with a firm but careful touch.
"Natalia?" He frowned but remained where he was, clearly still disoriented.
"How do you feel?" she asked, studying his pale complexion with concern.
"Like I'm going to throw up?" he responded with a grimace that made her wince sympathetically.
"Please don't," she said quickly, glancing around at the expensive furnishings.
"I can't promise anything," he muttered, his right hand moving to massage his forehead. "What happened?"
"You passed out."
"I know that much. I mean, what happened after that?" His tone carried a hint of irritation, though whether at the situation or his own weakness was unclear.
"I... managed to bring you here," she said, though something in her expression seemed oddly guarded.
'Something happened,' he thought, but decided not to press the issue. Whatever it was, she'd tell him when she was ready.
[Wait... the connection's back.]
'Huh? What connection?' he asked internally, careful to direct the thought.
[I don't know what occurred, but at a certain point in that illusory world, I couldn't trace your soul any longer. It was as though you ceased to exist for a while.]
'What?' Asher's mental voice carried genuine surprise. Perhaps this explained why the entity had remained silent throughout that entire ordeal. But what could possibly be powerful enough to actually halt the influence of such a being?
His mind began racing at maximum speed, analyzing possibilities and drawing connections with the methodical precision of someone whose life might depend on the answers. Almost instantly, he arrived at a conclusion that made his blood run cold.
'No way,' he thought, but immediately killed the thought before it could fully form.
Why?
Because he couldn't afford to let the entity know what he'd just realized.
From the very beginning—since the moment he'd awakened in this world—he'd never trusted the entity for even a second. It would have been utterly foolish to do so. When he'd died as Noel, something fundamental had broken inside him. That final sight before death, the betrayal that had destroyed him, had murdered a certain feeling that had carried over into his life as Azalea.
He couldn't quite identify what that feeling had been, but he knew something was fundamentally wrong with him now. One thing that had become extraordinarily difficult was the simple act of trust.
He simply couldn't do it anymore. It was like trying to grasp water with his bare hands—no matter how hard he tried, it slipped through his fingers. That was precisely why Isabelle's betrayal had shattered him so completely. It had literally destroyed what little ability he'd had left to trust anyone in this world.
So when he'd awakened to find Anna enslaved, and later discovered it was some clandestine entity that had given him that ability, the first thing he'd done when it began conversing with him was test whether it could read his thoughts. Sure enough, it could—and that was a problem. He didn't trust it, but he couldn't hide anything from it if his thoughts were an open book.
So he'd conducted another test. He'd thought with the clear intention of passing his thoughts to the entity, and as expected, it heard him. Then, he'd thought with the deliberate intention of NOT passing his thoughts, and to his surprise, it didn't hear them.
From that moment on, he'd been living a careful double life. He'd cleared his mind, thinking clearly and freely about mundane matters, letting the entity know surface thoughts so it wouldn't suspect he could hide deeper ones. He'd made it believe he stupidly trusted it, feeding it thoughts like 'I would give you entertainment' and similar statements to keep it hooked on the idea that his only objective was revenge.
Yes, revenge was certainly part of his motivation, but he didn't trust this entity. Why? Well, there was always the distinct possibility that it was the goddess from the very beginning.