Transmigration Gone Wrong

"See? I told you it wasn't that far away."

Blake stared tiredly at Yolanda.

"Are you having a laugh?" She asked as they arrived at Grimepoint. The town was, as one would expect from its name, a grime sight.

The streets were filled with trash and merchants - quite an interesting mix if someone asked Blake about it. The attire of the guards patrolling practically screamed the sentence: Better watch out for your back.

It wouldn't surprise Blake if the city was nothing more than a facade for all kinds of black markets and bribery.

"Come on now, I know it looks bad - and smells bad - but it isn't the end of the world." Yolanda said.

All kinds of unmannered individuals stared at Blake's figure... namely, her lower parts as she walked along the streets.

"... I didn't know you had that sort of humor." She glanced back at Yolanda with frosty eyes.

Uttering a small chuckle, all Yolanda could say was, "Ahh, you can't blame 'em, even I can't help but stare at you. It is your fault for being such a cutie!"

"Yeah, yeah, let's just go buy some clothes. You can make jokes later."

'I wasn't joking though.'

After some minutes of awkward silence, both finally found the clothes shop.

'My sense of danger is getting all jumpy ever since I came here. Fuck, I saw slaves down the road. And why is Yolanda so fine with that? I mean... I understand that they aren't humans, but still, it's just wrong...'

"Hey hey, it's okay." Yolanda noticed her distress and immediately hugged her from behind, "I know these streets with the back of my hand, so nothing is going to happen to you. After we get you some clothes, there is an inn which I know where you can stay. The owner there owes me some favors."

Sighing softly, Blake immediately quieted down. She didn't know how, but Yolanda's words had a way of soothing her just like her Peace of Mind skill.

"Thank you- for everything." She smiled while looking back at Yolanda, "I don't even know how I can repay you."

Chuckling slightly, "Don't you worry about that. I will make sure to think about something."

Almost on cue, the shop owner appeared from behind the counter.

"Just a moment!" Someone shouted before a loud noise echoed around the room. The rattle of objects falling was enough to startle Blake.

"Lavender! It's me!" Yolanda called out.

"Yolanda, it's you? Already back, my dear?" A tall woman came out while carrying a few tools on her right hand. Her hair was vibrant brown and her eyes were hazel-like. Her figure was more on the thin side, but she still didn't lose any points in beauty in comparison to Yolanda.

'The fuck? Where did all these beauties come out from?' Blake couldn't help but wonder.

Narrowing her eyes, Lavender couldn't help but stare at Blake as well.

"Wait... don't tell me she is your-"

"A friend of mine! Blake, Lavender. Lavender, Blake." She interrupted as fast as she could.

'What was that just now?' Blake thought before dismissing it aside.

After Yolanda caught up with the state of things in town and explained the type of attire Blake needed, she was told to come back the other day to grab the merchandise.

"Another person who owes you?" Blake asked.

"Haha, let's say I have my contacts." She replied simply, refusing to go any further than that.

"Alright, here we are." They arrived at an old building. A wooden plaque was set on the entrance door.

'The Tipsy Rat' It read.

"Okay, I will take my leave here then. Good luck." Yolanda hugged Blake once more, almost regretfully at that. Likewise, Blake looked hesitant to part from Yolanda, but she knew she had her obligations to attend to.

"When are you coming back?" She asked.

"In less than a week at most, I promise. Now, do you remember how to get to Lavender's shop?"

"Yup. No worries, I can take care of myself." She forced a smile. It was the least she could do for Yolanda.

Nodding, Yolanda walked down the road, exiting the alley where the inn was located at.

"Tsk." She clicked her tongue in annoyance as she traveled the lone streets, "Fucking orcs and their dipshit brains. Can't even follow the simplest of orders."

A small pebble rotated around her index finger before it flew against a rock wall, marring a clean see-through hole in it.

"And now who gotta clean up the mess? Me! Of course it is me. What was I even expecting? It's always me. Yolanda do this, Yolanda do that."

"Can't even have my fun."