A Gentle Noble's Vacation Recommendation

Unusually, Lizel had come alone to buy clothes.

As an adventurer, you only needed one set of top-class gear. Equipment made from the best materials and the finest techniques always stayed clean, never wrinkled even if you slept in it, and despite hardly ever being washed it somehow always looked brand new.

But that didn’t work for everyday clothes. The equipment was comfortable to wear, of course, but if you asked whether it was suited for ordinary daily life, the shape made that questionable.

Their trip to Astarnia was more or less decided at this point, and Lizel didn’t own any clothes suited to a land of eternal summer.

(“When it comes to clothes that look cool and breezy…”)

Lizel picked up one garment, tilted his head, and concluded he didn’t really understand it.

In his original world, he had simply worn what was prepared for him. After coming here, Gill had chosen clothes for him that didn’t stray from local common sense. By now he understood, as knowledge, what counted as normal clothing. But actually choosing for himself, staring at the wide variety before him, he had no idea what would suit him.

If he said something like, “As long as I can wear it, it’s fine,” Eleven would launch into a storm of rebuttals and Judge would start crying. He knew that from experience.

(“If Eleven or Judge-kun were here, they’d just decide everything for me.”)

He remembered how, when they’d gone shopping together, Eleven had chosen clothes with overwhelming fussiness.

How many shops had they visited that time? Eleven would buy as many clothes for himself as he liked if he took a fancy to them, without caring about the cost, but when it came to Lizel’s clothes he hadn’t compromised in the slightest.

Even Lizel, a total amateur at picking clothes, could tell the outfits Eleven chose had great taste, but he’d never expected it to take an entire day.

Judge was just as uncompromising, but he didn’t impose his own preferences. He judged only whether something was appropriate for Lizel. Which meant if he saw Lizel shopping now in some random back-alley clothing shop, he’d cry.

Previously, Judge had nervously escorted Lizel all the way to a shop in the central district, and while the staff gave them the kind of service reserved for nobles, Judge had watched Lizel get his clothes chosen with a quietly satisfied expression.

(“Ah… I could just ask the staff to choose for me, couldn’t I?”)

Lizel lifted his head and looked around for a clerk.

But before his gaze could find one, it caught a familiar color beyond the wide-open storefront.

A jade green that reflected the sunlight. Beneath that glossy sheen was a slightly displeased expression—but Lizel knew that didn’t mean the man was actually in a bad mood.

The other party seemed to have noticed him as well. Letting his braided hair slide off his shoulder, he turned toward Lizel.

“Hello, Jade.”

“Lizel-kun, perfect tim—…”

Smiling as he greeted him, Lizel watched Jade nod once and step into the shop.

Wondering why the words had cut off so oddly, Lizel followed Jade’s gaze. It was fixed squarely on the clothing Lizel held in his hands.

“…Are you planning to wear that?”

“It’s for me, yes. Is it strange?”

“‘Strange’ doesn’t even begin to cover how many things are wrong with it.”

Lizel spread the clothes in his hands and looked them over. Perfectly normal. Simple, and so plain they’d be safe on anyone.

But Lizel didn’t know: those “safe on anyone” clothes absolutely did not suit him.

At best you could call them “cloth shirt” and “cloth trousers”—plain, unadorned items. Staring at them in puzzlement, Lizel received a look from Jade that said more than words ever could. Even as a joke, he didn’t want to see Lizel wearing that.

“I thought they looked nice and simple, and cool enough for the heat.”

“You know, maybe you should just never buy your own clothes again.”

So it was that bad, huh. With a wry smile, Lizel put the clothes back on the shelf.