A conversation between a Passivity Precept Counselor and Brent Colgate, age 43. April 2nd 20XX

”Can you stop these protestors? They're really inconveniencing everyone!”

”... that's the point.”

I woke earlier than Mia and sat on the couch opposite to her. Her adorable sleeping face distracted me for a second before I realized what I was doing and forced myself to stop.

There were so many things I needed to do today. Was I really prepared? Was I actually insane enough to try and get a copy of the Crimsondallia’s books and risk his family’s wrath? But it was all for that magic item, wasn’t it? The only magic item that could point me to the right person.

I clenched my hands into fists and went over each step we needed to do today over and over again for hours. My plan was as perfect as I could make it. The plans I made for if things went wrong were picked over. I pre-planned excuses and lies. Reactions and actions.

There could be no mistake.

I staked most of my wealth on this one heist and if it failed I’d be fucked. But at least, in the worst case scenario, I could escape into Mia’s alien world where the Crimsondallia would be unlikely to find me any time soon. But really, who was I kidding? I couldn’t leave the PPVS. My clan members were still enslaved like me, only most of them hadn’t found their bonded to free them from their forced life sentence in the simulation. So, I didn’t really have much of a choice.

First, I had to free myself, then get stronger while searching for their whereabouts, and only then could I free them.

“Lore?”

From her position on my couch Mia blinked her expressive green eyes at me.

Eyes that couldn’t lie.

The less I told her the better. It was part of why I didn’t explain to her how I had to act the way I did yesterday because we were being watched even if neither of us spotted the actual watchers. Why I couldn’t tell her that the reason she could teleport me was likely because she was my bonded and not because she was my current temporary jailor. I’d honestly freaked out when that happened, but I fortunately remembered that there were a few magic items that had the same effect so anyone watching could assume I wore something like that.

And I couldn't tell her that when she became my jailer, I'd shockingly felt relieved for the first time in years, but since we were being watched I couldn't act like it and had to behave how I would normally under that situation. Watching her act like a sad little thing made it difficult to keep up my act. And when she’d confronted me, I had to mostly drop it, because I couldn’t continue to hurt her.

I clenched my hands into fists, smiled at her and finally replied, “Mia.”

“How much time do we have?”

“We spent too much time last night on collecting items so, at this point we only have eight hours.”

“That long? Think we can go fight some monsters to kill time?”

”Did you forget that I need to teach you basic etiquette for these types of events?”

”Shit.”

”Agreed.”

”So, where do we begin?”

”First, we’ll begin with how to bow...”

***

Teaching my bonded etiquette and a few formal dances took an inordinate amount of patience and surprisingly, self-control. By the time we had to leave to pick up our attire I was ready to take a break. Unfortunately, we had no time after the lesson. To not be too late to our appointment, we had to run as fast as we could. Mia even teleported us each time her mana refilled.

“Bard Lore and Assassin Mia. You two are late,” Tailor Ocrevine said.

“Sorry—”

“Don’t give me excuses, come here and put this on.”

She handed me my outfit and did the same for Mia.

You have been given a Tailored Robe made specifically for you by Tresalls Ocrevine. Would you like to equip it?

I agreed and the full outfit appeared on me. For me, my robes were Silvercat blue with a green belt that matched Mia’s eyes. On the bottom of my robe and on the edge of my sleeves cats were embroidered in a subtle pattern. The inside robe was made of a silvery-white. The tailor came up to me and began pulling and tugging and sewing in places so the outfit perfectly conformed to me. When she was done with me she began on Mia who wore a similar outfit only hers was green with a blue belt and slightly more delicate features.

Tailor Ocrevine pulled and tugged and almost unbalanced Mia as she sewed her in. My bonded sent me uncomfortable expressions and looks of pleading that I chose to ignore. The green looked good on her.

“Okay you two, you’re done. Now go enjoy the party. Don’t start any fights! It’s a social event, you know?”

I grinned. “I know! Thank you!”

When we stepped outside Mia asked, “Where to now?”

“Hair, nails and makeup,” I said and continued towards the next shop, where I had scheduled appointments for earlier.

“What? Seriously?”

“Why would I joke about something like that?”

“I mean, what’s the point?”

“To look good.”

“You look good enough now. If you looked any better...”

“What? You’d be unable to help yourself and try to have your way with me?”

She turned bright red. “Shut up. Does this give pluses to your Charisma or something?”

“Not directly, but it does give you bonuses to social situations and skills. For example, if your Charisma, your skill for Charm or Diplomacy, and your bonuses are high enough you could say the worst thing you possibly could but have someone not care because you’re just that good.”

“Eh? There is a Diplomacy skill?”

I nodded and entered the Salon. One of the NPC workers brought Mia and I over to a mirror where we could look through options to choose what suited us best. After a while, I choose trimmed nails, masculine fishtail braids with illusionary floating sapphires, and some tasteful bardic makeup.

Then it was Mia’s turn. I waited for a good five minutes as I watched her pick random choices that made me cringe before I took over and picked for her.

“Why does it matter what I choose?” She complained as I finished picking a subtle makeup for her that had a little bit of red in it near her eyes, making the brilliant green truly pop.

“For fighting, it doesn’t really matter how your armor and weapons appear as long as the stats are good. But for Charisma, how you look, how clean you are, your choices in what you wear and the accessories that go with that, will affect your stats and the skills that rely on those stats.”

“I don’t have any Charisma-based skills.”

“If you did and attempted to use them, you’d be killed ten times more often.”

“Yeah, well, fuck you too.”

“Don’t curse at me when I’m making you not look like a crazy fisherman with two black eyes.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” she mumbled.

“It was. I paid a lot for these robes. I won’t let them go to waste because of a noob decision on your part.”

She glared at me like an upset cat. Too cute. Shit! Not cute, definitely not cute. Why was I making her look good again? Oh, right. Being a source for ridicule would not help us blend.

“Okay, so, how are we getting to this party?” She asked.

“We hire a carriage just outside the city and it will take us there directly.”

“Will we need to fight on our way there at all?”

“Carriages are pretty safe so, no.”

“Damn.”