Ulfric’s shop was livelier than she had ever seen it. Now that his daughter was home and his wife’s health was improving, he could concentrate more on keeping the doors open and allowing customers to look around. Penelope had received the payment from a job well down and she thought she deserved getting a few things for herself.

There were some expensive choices in the shop, truly speaking of the quality of Ulfric’s wares. It reflected in the well-dressed people now going through the store alongside her, picking out some items. Merchants or nobles, she couldn’t tell, but people seemed happy to be able to purchase something at a reasonable hour (Ulfric kept sporadic and strange hours while Matilda was sick).

You can’t deny the feel of a good pen, Penelope thought, knowing that her wrist thanked her whenever she happened upon a cheap, but ergonomic pen to buy for work. Though she had perhaps only bought one every one to two years, using the item until the ink truly ran out. There had been so many tricks she learned to expand the lives of her pens, ranging from running a ballpoint pen along the sole of a rubber shoe to unstick the ball to running old pens under hot water to try and loosen the ink within. It was a horrible experience, in all honesty. It was nice that she could more freely get herself something nice, even though the go-to feeling was to try and squirrel away her money.

Although, now that she did have the freedom to buy whatever she liked, she had difficulty choosing. There was so much around her and she felt almost paralyzed trying to figure out what would be the best thing to get.

Thinking on what she had on hand, she didn’t need more paper for a bit, her stock was decidedly decent. Plus she also had her work book, if she truly needed a proper surface to draw, but she would prefer to leave it as a workbook. Everything had its place. The things she would most likely need are going to be charcoal and ink refills.

As she had only just gotten a fountain pen, she deemed it foolish to get another one, so grabbing more refills would be her best bet. Unless something happened to the pen, she shouldn’t need another and after looking at the merchandise sold, the refills looked like they were standard to all the models. Now what colour to get?

“Can’t go wrong with black ink. It’s classical, a mainstay and goes with everything. But a nice blue ink could be good, too. Maybe I could get one when I feel like a change? Oh, there’s red, too. That’s flashy. I could make some interesting highlights using that, oh, but it’d be a hassle if I had to switch the cartridges…”

Mulling it over under her breath, a few adults around her chuckled as she tried to make her choice.

There were also pencils to consider, too. None of the ones she saw were mechanical. Most likely no one had invented them yet. What were for sale were akin to the wooden pencils one may see in a school, minus the eraser. That needed to be bought separately and wasn’t what she was used to as well. When she asked Ulfric for an eraser, he showed her this putty-like substance that apparently erased mistakes when rubbed against pencil.

Much like the inks, the pencils also had colours, though the selection seemed to be muted in comparison to the inks. She knew there was a process to making the pigments in those pencils and in her old world, many were artificially made in order to retain a brightness not found in nature. Penelope was tempted to get a set, but grabbing one of all the available colours would be quite expensive. She had to be reasonable; just because she had access to money, didn’t mean she should become a spendthrift.

“Just a few pencils and ink cartridges is putting me back at least 50 Draks…” At least the pencils would last her a while. Penelope resolved to only use her pen for when she wanted a finished looking piece and not just for everyday use.

After choosing her items, Penelope weaved through the busy shop to get in line with other shoppers. It was moving smoothly, so not much time passed before she was greeting Ulfric at the counter, now accompanied by a sleepy and clingy Velma.

The girl was nestled beside her father, fingers tangled in his shop apron strings in order to stay close. Penelope looked at her with such sympathy. Of course she would hang onto her parents as much as possible, considering what she went through. Penelope gave the other girl a smile and Velma shied away and hid behind her father, surprising the artist.

Ah, that’s too bad. Oh, well, maybe she’ll talk to me next time.

Penelope didn’t let that get her down, though, grinning up at Ulfric from under her hood.

“Hello, Ulfric!”

“Hello, Miss Penelope.”

“I’ll be buying these, please!” Penelope placed her ink and pencils on the counter, so she could be rung up. With practiced ease, he gave her the final total.

“30 Draks.”

Silence.

Penelope rubbed her ears. Did she mishear him? “Pardon?”

“30 Draks, Miss Penelope.”

“Sorry, I could have sworn you said 30 Draks instead of 50. I must have wax in my ears, hahaha.”

The older man shook his head. “No, you heard me right, miss. 30 Draks please.”

“Why the steep discount?!”

“I told you before, I am grateful to you and want to see you grow well into your own. You have a talent, young lady. This amount will cover the costs of the items and what it took to bring them to Ceralde.”

Penelope was speechless, but she accepted it as she didn’t want to argue with him in front of his daughter or the customers around them. That wouldn’t be good for business making a scene nor would it be good to spook poor Velma. However, she did make it clear she was accepting the lower price with the biggest pout possible, to which Ulfric just laughed and grinned, waving her off as she walked away with her discounted quality goods. She would get over it.

As it was still advised children be escorted around or walked in pairs out in the town, Cynthia was waiting outside. Today she would be following the Cyno female while she did her requests out near the forest, the adults agreeing the fresh air would do her good. Perhaps being out in nature, sketching the local flora would take her mind off of the recent incidents. Penelope had barely slept a wink and put herself to cleaning in order to work off her anxious energy; Minerva told Penelope to go outside with Cynthia.

And so here she was, in the clearing near where Cynthia would be working. Things were relatively safer out there than within the confines of the town, so as long as Penelope remained within the field nearby, Cynthia could easily react if something happened, but could continue to work without needing to be constantly watching her charge.

Since no one else was in the area (Cynthia scented the air to make sure) Penelope figured she should practice using her special brand of magic.

“Status Open!”

It had been a little while since she last checked her status. Having never been much of a gamer, the need to check this convenient screen never crossed her mind. However, it seemed to have been very important enough that a former king of Birain forced it into being, so she might as well use it occasionally.

 

[PENELOPE SNOWFLOWER LEVEL 1]

[HP: 100

MP: 100

STR: 5

DEF: 5

MAG: 10

SPD: 5

ACQUIRED SKILLS

COOKING: LEVEL 5

CLEANING: LEVEL 5

IMAGINATION: LEVEL 10

ARTISTRY: LEVEL 10]

 

Huh. No changes. Considering that traditional leveling up required battle, she supposed it was normal that she hadn’t experienced much growth. Doing just one thing in the middle of a battle she was not directly involved in most likely did not warrant much experience. And she mainly did training and schooling with Minerva and Yule every day, which probably did not contribute much, either.

Well, it’s not like I want to go out and fight, I could get hurt! I have no idea what I would even do.

It was better to just do safe things and leave the fighting to the actual warriors.

She pulled out her new pencil, eager to give it a try. It was a much better quality then her charcoal sticks, so would it affect how her drawings would come to life? The very idea was exciting. Looking around, she set about sketching a single flower nearby, laying down on the ground with a fresh sheet of parchment to copy what she saw.

The pencil glided easily on the page and left much less of a mess on her fingers. There was better control, too, with the finer points for initial line work. And if she adjusted her grip, she could use it for more refined shading, compared to her earlier works with charcoal. The more work she put in the happier she felt, thanking Tulilith for letting her come to this world and enjoy her passion.

Putting the final touch on the flower portrait, she gazed at her work and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Hang on, that wasn’t how this worked. Maybe she hadn’t been thinking about it hard enough? After all, intent was a part of how her magic worked. Perhaps she had been too engrossed in enjoying herself; she forgot to concentrate on bringing it to life.

So, she tried again, turning the paper over to work on the other side, sketching the flowers again, this time focusing on wishing for it to come into being. To manifest.

Be here, be pretty, be real…

This time she got the result she expected.

Next to the original flower stood a copy. At first glance, there was no difference between the two, they looked alike. However, the artist was thorough, comparing the texture and scent of the two, finding the real one much more fragrant and the petals of the one she created more paper-like. It was clear that if someone did not look too close, the flower fulfilled everything it needed to. She had to wonder what Penelope would need to do to make it seem more real. Was it just all in her intentions, in knowing what the real thing felt like?

So she tried a third time, now carrying with her the impressions of the real thing.

A third flower appeared, next to the other two, appearing as a picture perfect replica. And when Penelope touched the petals and smelled it, it definitely was more like that real thing!

“Hmm…I wonder if that’s why Velma’s picture became an impression of her?” It was a conundrum that had been bothering her since she could calmly sit and think about it.

Remembering the time she spent working on her first commission, she kept praying for the speedy recovery of Matilda and the overall happiness of the Gidget family. She supposed that translated as finding Velma, as that met the criteria of everything she wished for without actually manifesting the little girl.

However, the tiger had been a different story. That definitely physically came into being. It had become real enough as to bite and attack the kidnappers, and going as far as to rescue Velma was dropping into the ocean. That meant she could make living beings (a rather scary thought, honestly) to an extent; she promised herself not to abuse that kind of power and to be careful. It was good to know she could create things on the fly that were useful.

“I wonder if I could literally quickdraw?” It was an interesting thought and Penelope challenged herself to try, feeling fired up.

Of course, not understanding the meaning of the word ‘chill’, she might have gone a little overboard. To prove the limits of her abilities again, she tried to see how many items she could make in succession. Random small objects that didn’t need to be explained what they were, like bowls and balls. Concentrating hard on her work, Penelope ignored the veritable pile of items that popped into existence near her.

By the time Cynthia came out of the forest with her bushels of herbs and a few caught pieces of game, there was a hill of bowls, balls, forks and a single malformed plushie that might have resembled some kind of haunted looking rabbit plushie. They popped out of existence, poofing, almost as fast as they came into existence, so neither had to worry about taking any of it with them or disposing of them, but the sheer amount exhausted Penelope to make in order to keep up with the disappearing items. Getting into the groove of the speed of her creations, she hadn’t stopped to inspect everything she made, simply interested in the amount of items she could do in one sitting (it was a lot).

Due to how much she exhausted herself she needed to be carried back into town. Penelope was scolded for doing this and told that she needed to be more responsible with her magic use in the future. She promised to do so, despite them both knowing she was most likely going to take things out of hand again next time as well.

---

“A festival?”

“Yes, Ceralde will be holding a spring festival in a week,” Minerva explained.

It was another day at the shop. Time had passed since the incident where several missing children were rescued from a bunch of traffickers. Penelope was sweeping the floor when it was mentioned to her out of the blue.

Minerva nodded, smiling wide. “Yes, it’s been a long standing tradition in town. Celebrate new life, new beginnings and love.”

So, was it some kind of Valentine’s Day celebration? “Oh? Is it a holiday for lovers?”

The mage waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, goodness, no. Many choose this time of year to propose or profess their love. So, if you see people linking pinkies, that’s why.” That last part was delivered with a playful wink, to which Penelope blushed at, recalling the incident the mage was referring to. She really wasn’t going to let Penelope live that one down, huh?

“Come on, Minerva, do you have to bring that up?” Penelope whined softly.

“But, how can I ever forget the day someone actually proposed to my cute little nephew? I may never get to see it ever again in my lifetime, you know.”

She is having way too much fun with this, Penelope thought, moving to another room to get away from the mage who was now cackling. Minerva used to be so sweet, but now she had also gotten into the habit of teasing her as much as she teased Yule. At least they never argued, Penelope didn’t think she could handle that. She’ll let those two have the monopoly on bickering.

Still, a spring festival…when was the last festival she had attended? With how busy she had been while living together with everyone, Penelope hadn’t allied herself to get too deep into her head and remembering the old days as Hokusai Kasumi.

If she delved deeply into her memories, she would recall the last festival she attended was for a sports day at her final year of elementary school. Her father had been unable to attend, but her mother had been there with a video camera, so she could record the day to show her father. That year she had won first place in the foot race, her triumph by tripping into the finish line and falling onto her face was the talk of the school for weeks. It was actually a funny memory.

After her sister was born, she had to give up going to club activities and things like school festivals. There just wasn’t enough time to be able to contribute to the family, keeping up her studies and participating in events.

So it might actually be quite nice to go to one. However, with the restrictions on children being outside alone, that might be difficult.

“I wonder if Yule will go with me,” she thought aloud as she got to work sweeping up the kitchen. She didn’t have to worry about money at the moment, since the money she received from her commission had barely been touched. Other than buying a few pencils and refills for her fountain pen from Ulfric’s shop, she still had a lot of money. Of course, used to living extremely frugally, Penelope hoped to keep some savings for a rainy day and only keeping a small allowance in case she wanted a treat. She had tried giving some to Minerva to pay for her keep, but the mage gave her the most offended look and absolutely refused it.

“Children shouldn’t have to pay rent,” was what the older woman had said with a note of finality.

So she had a good amount she could use to treat herself, after putting the rest away for savings. Although, she felt like she was carrying a lot. Currently the coins were sitting safely in her shared room with Yule, but when she went out for any reason, she brought it with her. As someone not used to more than 100 yen in her pocket at any given time, having enough to buy wagyu steak several times over was still hard for her to grasp. Sometimes she brought them out to touch them to reaffirm they were real.

Are there banks here? They have a system of currency, so there should be something like a bank, right?

With a question in mind, Penelope went back to Minerva to ask it. 

“A bank? Well, yes, there is one! They are quite convenient as most of my transactions in the shop tend to be high, so I’d rather avoid working with actual coins.”

That was not the answer the girl had been expecting.

“Really?”

“Yes, Penelope – oh, here, stay with me and you can see for yourself.”

At that moment a customer came up to the pair, holding quite a few vials and bottles.

“Hello m’am, I’d like to buy these potions,” the customer stated. Minerva did a quick calculation and adjustment to inventory in a book before pulling out a strange metal card.

“That will be 350 Draks for the lot,” the mage said, the answer making Penelope mentally spiral at how high it cost. The customer agreed to the price, pulling out their own metal card and touching it to Minerva’s. A small light flashed on both cards, first the customer’s then Minerva’s and that seemed to signal that the transaction worked. “Penelope, could you bag the customer’s purchase, please?”

“Oh, sure!”

It was a slightly perplexing interaction, to be sure. But if Penelope had to compare it to something, it resembled the tap technology from Earth. It had not yet become particularly popular in Japan when Kasumi passed away, but she had seen a few stores that allowed such convenient technology. It made her wonder how it worked exactly in Iraloné.

Minerva showed Penelope her card, which was made of metal that had etchings on one side and a magic circle on the other. The etchings turned out to be Minerva’s full name, Penelope simply hadn’t recognized the characters right away.

“The magic circle on the back is a spell that allows the transfer of wealth within banks. You can barely see them, but each symbol here is a unique combination for each account holder, so no two people would have the same magic circle on the back of their cards. They also only activate if touched by the authorized user, to avoid fraud.”

“Oh, so that’s how it works.”

“Yes, it’s much safer than walking around with a lot of gold, you know? Especially if you plan on making big purchases.”

“That makes sense.”

Finishing up with her notes in her accounting, Minerva closed the book. 

“As I recall, you received some money and should be expecting more soon.”

“Maybe? Cynthia says there was a lot of paperwork the guild needs to look through.”

“Well, before then, how about we open up your own bank account?”

“Oh, can I?” Penelope would love that, if she could. It would be better than accumulating money and not being able to keep it safe from thieves.

The mage nodded, beginning to put things away. 

“I don’t see why not. You just need a guarantor, since you’re a bit young to open one on your own. Luckily for you, you have me!”

“Oh, I’d be really grateful, if you could do that for me,” Penelope chirped, respect shining in her eyes.

Minerva chuckled. “In all honesty, it will be good to set you up for your future.”

That made the girl pause a moment, head tilting. “My future?”

“Oh, yes. We can never know what may come, so it never hurts to prepare for every eventuality,” Minerva offered sagely.

The choice of words put off Penelope a bit, because that implied something would make her leave in the first place. What did the older woman mean? Was this a subtle hint that she was overstaying her welcome? That they secretly thought she should have moved on already? Looking back on how long she had stayed, it was amazing she hadn’t realized her faux pas sooner. Of course she needed to leave! Teaching her how to read, preparing a brand new bank account…she was being quietly kicked out!

Oh, no, did I make everyone mad or something? Penelope thought, spiralling.

Well, I did sort of come out of the blue. It’s been a couple of weeks and I haven’t paid for anything in the home. Oh, and I wasn’t careful and made everyone worry and chase me around…

The list of her perceived slights against her house mates just kept going in this manner, like a scrolling wall of text within her mind’s eye. Why would someone bring something up like preparing for the future unless they were planning on kicking someone out?! Well, not that she actually belonged here. And that thought stung the most.

Other than Yule, Minerva and Cynthia, she had no one else in this world.

She suddenly felt so lonely.

Penelope took a step back and waved things off.

“Oh, you know what? I think I forgot to take the laundry back in,” Penelope said, mind finding the first task she could latch onto. Their clothes were, in fact, hanging outside in the back to dry right now, so she had a valid excuse to escape. “I wouldn’t want to bother you right now.”

“Oh, it wouldn’t be a bother –”

“It’s fine. I'll finish the chores.” Not waiting for Minerva to reply, Penelope ran off to the back of the shop. She missed the utterly perplexed look on the older woman’s face transform into worry.

 

Honestly, Penelope felt very foolish as she rushed away. It had been rude of her to leave so abruptly. Minerva hadn’t followed her, considering the girl’s feelings and giving her space, which made Penelope feel even worse. She really had to make up for it. She made several plans already, to take on all the cleaning, the cooking and various other tasks in order to properly establish herself at the shop.

For now, she needed to finish up the current chore she was supposed to do: the laundry!

Normally Minerva or Cynthia took down the laundry from the clotheslines while Penelope took care of the folding. This time she resolved to do it all herself.  She whipped up a sketch of a stepping stool, using the extra height to remove everything and place them neatly folded into a basket…well, that was easier said than done. Even though she could now reach everything, it did not mean she could easily fold everything.

One of the first things she grabbed were some of the bedsheets and she had quite the time figuring out how to fold it from the line without it touching the ground. If she were an adult her arms would be long enough to do the job, but she was young now and she felt upset for being so useless.

One sheet was done, after a lot of sweating. Penelope found a method to overlap the sheet while on the line, though this meant a lot of shifting around on her stool. Picking it up and moving it left and right. All for a single sheet. This was probably harder than it needed to be, but she’d decided on this. She needed to be useful or she’d wind up crying from the worry she may be kicked out.

As Kasumi, there was always the threat of being thrown out. Her family truly had a hold on her, keeping her tightly on a leash so she would never even consider leaving. Guilted into feeling responsible if she did nothing to help, even when she was tired. And she was often told that no one else could possibly love her.

 

“We are your family,” Kasumi’s father shouted, when she mentioned moving out to attend university. The man tossed an empty bottle at her, which thankfully missed, shattering on impact with the wall near Kasumi’s head. The older man began hollering, calling for the rest of the family. 

“Hey, everyone! Come here!” he bellowed as Kasumi cowered, keeping still and saying nothing while she trembled. When the rest of the family came to see what the commotion was, the man continued on his angry tirade. “This ungrateful brat says she wants to leave her beloved family behind.”

“I…I’m not ungrateful…I just think I should continue school…” Kasumi had tried to argue, only to have something else thrown at her. It missed again, but how long could her luck last? The next one might very well hit her. And yet, she could not move. Her mind rationalized that if she moved, it’d be over. She just needed to stay still and it’ll be over soon.

Her father mocked her, repeating her words in a dumb way before scoffing. “All I hear is that you don’t love us and want to leave, you selfish child! Who will look after this family if you leave?”

It had hurt her so much whenever they accused her of not loving them. It felt like a punch to the gut every time. A hit so hard that she was left breathless and doubled over in pain, though nothing had touched her (yet). All she could do was stand and cry, scared of being left without support, without her family. Because even though it hurt to be there, it hurt more to be told she didn’t care…

 

But she did care.

Penelope genuinely liked the people she levied with and even though it had barely been a month, she wanted to stay.

Big fat tears were rolling down her cheeks, but she did not make a sound as she kept trying her best to finish up with the laundry, despite the difficulty. Her sleeve rubbed vigorously against her eyes as she couldn’t let everyone see how distressed she was. It took a moment to calm herself down, though the pain in her chest merely continued to pang endlessly from the unfounded fear of being thrown away.

She screwed on her best smile and told herself to act normal as she picked up the heavy basket and headed inside. 

Keep smiling, keep smiling, keep smiling…