Smolder in the Afterglow | Tales of Luminozenko

Chapter 7| A Paradise We Call A Bookstore

TRIGGER WARNING

This chapter contains discrimination, blood, anxiety attack, and trauma flashbacks, which may not be suitable for some readers. Discretion is advised and stay safe.

Otherwise, enjoy reading.

"That would be thirteen lums," said the lady behind her stand and extended me a stick of candied strawberries.

I fetched my wallet from my satchel and parted the black veil attached to my bamboo hat to give her the exact price of the food.

"Thank you," I mumbled and carefully received the stick, closing the gap of the veil with my other hand. I turned and started walking away, taking a bite from one of the candied strawberries. It crunched with such a crisp sound and the sweetness was just right for my taste.

I scanned the other food stands through my black veil, but none had really caught my attention and the crepe maker wasn't here today. I just hummed, munching on my snack, and looked around to see if any stores would interest me, but ended up spotting some others also wearing the same type of hat as I had.

It was a norm around here if you don't want people directly looking at your face or your upper body (especially if you were a woman) as the veil could reach down to the hips. And I had my earring on, which hid my wings.

If only this could be seen as normal back on Earth, then I would always be wearing this whenever I went out. But nah. They would freaking see you as a ghost or a weirdo.

At sunset, Lementa would often be crowded, especially on the main street—where I was now. It was next to a river called Mernala River used for water transportation and sometimes, you'd see vendors on their boats, advertising their goods.

I slipped past people, swallowing the last bit of my candied strawberry, and turned to the arched bridge, connecting the street to another. I threw my stick on a trash bin just next to the bridge as soon as I got down.

"Well then." I sighed and picked up a crumpled paper bag on the ground, putting it in the bin. "Back to the Fortress." I clapped by hand to remove the unseen dirt and heard a chime from the store beside me. The sound of it was a beckon to my curiosity.

I craned my neck to where it came from and parted the veil with both of my hands. "A Paradise We Call a Bookstore," I read the white, cursive sign above the store.

I stared at it for a good moment, nodding at the shop name in agreement, and spun on my heels, sauntering away. "Not now." But I stopped after a few steps, turned my body back where I came from, and stomped towards the shop's door.

"Just a look around. Just a look around," I tried to convince myself, but the thought left me once I pushed the door open, the bell chimed, and I stepped in.

A freaking clown, I am.

I took off my hat and the smell of books quickly slipped into my nose, as a lingering bit of the scent of coffee. Balls of orange light brightened up the store—not to the point it would hurt the eyes but they made the atmosphere feel warm.

The counter before me was empty, so I didn't bother calling out for a person, and my heeled boots clopped on the wooden floor, glazed with a dark varnish. Shelves and shelves lined up before me, filled with hardcover, leatherbound, and paperbacks, in a colorful yet light scheme.

Just as I reached out to a shelf to fetch a book with a beautiful cover, I heard a hum, the voice mellow and captivating and I found myself glancing around to find its owner.