Villain's Second Heart: Trapped in A Fantasy Novel (BL)-Chapter 47: Clocktower Encounter

"How about this one?" Rav said excitedly, holding up a soft mauve jumper.

"Too gaudy."

"What about this?"

"Too...slutty?" Ezra frowned, looking at the sheer top.

"Didn't think that would bother you," Rav quipped. "It's for your boy, after all."

"Oh, he'd look hot in that," Ezra smirked. "But I doubt he'd ever wear it."

"We ARE talking about the same person, right? Who just casually spent yesterday morning walking around, sans-pants?"

Ezra scratched his chin. "Alright, maybe a little slutty would be okay."

Rav grinned, flicking his tail lazily. "It's lonely up on the mountain, you know. Some of us don't get gorgeous Nephilim falling from the heavens into our laps." He sighed theatrically. "Can you blame me for wanting a little eye candy?"

Ezra groaned, swiping the sheer top out of Rav's hands before he could add it to the pile.

"Not that one. You really are something else, you know that?"

Ezra sifted through the clothing rack, letting the fabric brush against his fingertips. Then, he saw it - something simple but perfect. A sleeveless turtleneck, its fabric light and breathable. Exactly the kind of understated, brooding elegance Oberyn would appreciate.

He pulled it free, nodding in approval.

"This," Ezra muttered. "This is the one."

From across the shop, Rav raised an eyebrow before sneaking another risqué garment into his pile.

"Hey, put that back!" Ezra scolded, catching him mid-act.

"I'm paying," Rav sang, sticking out his tongue. "If he doesn't want it, that's fine. Speaking of—" Rav flicked his tail lazily. "You might fit my clothes well enough, but pick out a few things for yourself, too. Hm?"

Ezra hesitated for a moment, then gave in, adding a couple of pieces to the pile. He indulged himself a little further, selecting two identical shirts - matching ones. A soft, pale red flower bloomed across their white fabric.

A quiet smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

'I hope we can wear these together someday soon.'

The quality of the clothes surprised him - sleek, modern designs with an almost tailored feel, far beyond what he expected from a fantasy world. It made him wonder... Were there fashion designers here, too? Had some of his world's creative minds also been lured by the Storyteller?

The thought sent a small chill down his spine.

By the time they reached the counter, their bags were overflowing.

They set aside their bags at the register. "Okay if I come pick these up a little later?" Rav winked at the cashier. "I don't want to make a big deal, but..."

"Oh! I thought I recognized you!" the cashier beamed enthusiastically. "For you, Great Sage? Anything! I'll have them set aside for you right away."

"Lovely," Rav clapped his hands together. "When I return, I shall come with a gift, my sweet...shopkeeper."

She fawned over him. Rav really could charm anyone.

Hell, even Ezra might have been charmed - if his hearts weren't both already bound to another.

After their shopping trip, they returned to the busy Asteria streets, and the sound of the clocktower's bell began to ring out over the city.

"Looks like it's time," Rav said, raising his shoulders and walking a little straighter. "No sudden movements in there, eh?"

They strolled across the plaza, weaving through the crowds as they approached the clocktower. The mighty bell stopped chiming just as they reached a small, inconspicuous side entrance.

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Rav scanned the nearby area cautiously before opening the door and slipping inside, all in one clean motion. Ezra hurried in after, and Rav promptly shut the door with a dull click..

The interior was a maze of brass and ironwork, all intricate gears and massive pendulums, churning with steady, mechanical life. Dim lanterns flickered along the stone walls, casting shadows over the towering machinery. A spiraling staircase wound up the length of the tower, leading to a high landing where the clock-bearer had yet to descend.

As they walked around, looking at the machinations, the steampunk 'guts' of the clocktower, the sound of loud, clomping steps came from above. The bell-bearer made his way down the stairs, slowly but surely.

"Hello!" Rav called, cupping his hands together and projecting his voice to the very top of the tower. "I don't mean to scare you, Navarro! It's your old pal, Rav!"

The clomping continued, getting closer and closer.

"Rav?" came a refined, deep voice from above. "What did the cat drag in this time?"

"Damn it, Rav..."

Navarro finally came into view, and his sharp, calculating gaze flicked immediately to Ezra. Dark circles framed his weary eyes, making them seem heavier than the rest of his face - a man who had long since stopped carrying hope, but bore the weight of duty anyway.

Ezra swallowed. For a moment, he thought Navarro might recognize him - or at least, his face. But the weathered man broke his stare and stroked his beard, lost in thought.

The guy looked like he hadn't had a good night's sleep in years.

"Do I want to know why he's wearing a sealing pendant?" Navarro clapped his hand to his head. "Rav, you're going to get me killed, aren't you?"

"I certainly hope not. I come with a relatively innocuous question. I heard about some mess with Demetrius, the Curse Master?"

Navarro shook his head. "My god, news even reached you? Horrible story. Some Magician - a Nephilim, if you can believe - went on a rampage. He bombed the Hauteclaire - you know, that restaurant on -"

"I'm familiar," Rav smirked. "I didn't know it was the Hauteclaire. That makes it even funnier. Anyway...what are all the Magicians with curse marks doing? Surely they're not all dying?"

Navarro narrowed his eyes. "Should I ask why you want to know?"

Rav shook his head. "No. You don't want to know, I promise."

Navarro let out a slow, exhausted sigh, the kind only possible from someone who had spent far too long dealing with Rav's bullshit.

He pinched the bridge of his nose before finally relenting.

"Demetrius invented the curse himself, and nobody knows how to break it. But he did have some assistants, of course, who know how to treat it. Prevent it from getting worse, you know?"

"Of course," Rav said. He was well-familiar with the Academy and what those with the curse have to go through.

"Now, how much do you think it would cost to have this strapping young lad behind me trained to treat the curse?"