The next morning, I dragged myself into the inn’s yard for training, eyes bleary and ringed like I’d lost a fight with insomnia.
"You look like you didn’t sleep at all."
Alessio’s brows knit in mild concern as he studied my face.
Of course I didn’t. How could I sleep, with thoughts of the real Sonia running circles in my head all night?
"What happened?" he asked, gaze steady.
"Uh—oh... nothing. Really. I just had a lot on my mind."
I gave a too‑quick shrug, hoping it passed for casual.
’Yeah, right. Like I can tell him I spent the night spiraling about what might’ve happened to Sonia.’
My attempt at a smile wobbled; the conflict on my face probably showed anyway.
Alessio stared a mont longer, then exhaled.
"All right. Just—if you’re feeling unwell, tell . We can pause training."
I lit up with hopeful puppy‑eyes. Alessio’s mouth twitched—half reluctant, half resigned.
"I get it. Stop looking at like that. You can take the day off."
"YES!" I threw both arms in the air, grinning like I’d just won the lottery.
Alessio let out a slow breath, shaking his head at my enthusiasm.
"Oh—by the way, where are Sir Caleb and Sir Mateo?"
His expression shifted; a faint glare, almost a pout.
"You use honorifics with them but not with , do you?"
"Uh, well... Your Highness‑who‑is‑so‑kind‑and‑magnanimous, you are supposed to be in disguise, right? Or should I start calling you Sir Alessio, if that makes you feel better?"
A flicker of sothing crossed his face—then he rushed out, "No. Never mind."
’Why does it bother when she calls that?’
Alessio’s brows furrowed, his gaze drifting sowhere distant, as if the answer might surface if he just thought hard enough.
Noticing his expression, I stepped closer and tilted my head.
"What’s wrong, Your Highness?"
He flinched—just barely—but said nothing, his gaze locking onto in silence, like he was searching for sothing he couldn’t na.
"..."
"Your Highness?" I tried again, blinking.
Still no reply. But sothing shifted in his face—barely a flicker, like the title sat wrong in his ears and he wasn’t sure why.
"...Sir Alessio?"
That seed to snap him out of it. His frown deepened as he turned to , wearing a vaguely annoyed look—one he clearly hadn’t realized was on his face.
"What’s with that face?"
"What face?"
"That face. You look weird. Are you mad about sothing?"
"? Angry?"
His expression darkened even more.
"See! That’s the face! You definitely look angry."
I pointed right at his face, unwavering.
Alessio blinked and quickly adjusted his expression into sothing calr, almost like resetting a mask.
"Sir Alessio," I called again, lips twitching into a half-smile.
A small vein ticked at his temple. "Tsk. Stop calling that. Just use my na. Like you used to."
"Oh really?"
I grinned, clearly enjoying myself. "So now you want to drop the ’sir’ again, hmm?"
Alessio gave a long-suffering look, the kind that said ’why do I even try?’ before letting out a quiet sigh like he was conceding defeat.
"Anyway," I said, clasping my hands together, "since I’ve got a day off from training today... can I go out?"
"Where were you planning to go?"
"Just... walk around the city and maybe shop a little?"
Honestly, I had a few necessities to take care of...
’Not exactly the kind of thing most transmigrated heroines go on about, but—hey—I needed to figure out what won here used during, well, that ti of the month.
Alessio studied for a second.
"Hmm... seems like there’s sothing specific you want. If you tell what you’re looking for, I’ll ask Khan to help get it. That way, you don’t have to waste ti searching."
"WHAT?!"
The word exploded out of before I could stop it, my entire face heating up like fire.
Alessio blinked—once, then twice.
"Wh-what’s with that shout?"
How exactly was I supposed to describe that... to him?
"Wh, why on earth would I tell you what I’m looking for?!"
I threw him a glare, my face still flushed crimson.
He blinked at , utterly confused—like the issue hadn’t even crossed his mind.
I sighed, long and heavy, staring at his clueless face.
"Why do I even bother expecting anything from a man who’s clearly never dated, let alone understands what a woman actually needs during that ti?" I murmured.
Alessio visibly flinched at my jab, his face going stiff—then slowly turning red as realization dawned.
"A-ahem..."
He cleared his throat and quickly looked away, ears burning red.
"I’ll... escort you around. Ahem."
I glanced at him, the corner of my lips curling into a smirk. It was just too amusing not to tease him—if only a little.
"Then let’s get changed and head out right away."
* * *
In this world, when it was that ti of the month, won used folded linen cloths.
At first, they were nothing more than simple strips—layered and tied with cords or tucked into plain undergarnts. They were washed, dried, and reused again and again. Practical, if not exactly comfortable.
But over ti, won found better ways. Seamstresses, midwives, and clever won began crafting cloths stitched to hold their shape, adding soft padding and secure ties. So even had small loops or linen buttons that could fasten neatly into specially made undergarnts. Not exactly luxurious, but thoughtful—quiet innovations that made those long, uncomfortable days a little easier to bear.
Anyway, I got what I needed and stepped out of the shop, holding the wrapped bundle close to my chest.
’Wow... who would’ve thought they had sothing this well-made? Makes everything a bit simpler.’
"Hehe." I let out a satisfied little giggle, clutching the bundle like I’d just conquered a quest.
"Did... you get them? Ahem," Alessio asked, awkwardly clearing his throat.
His expression was sowhere between serious and deeply uncomfortable, his gaze pointedly averted toward the far-off horizon as if the re ntion of the subject might strike him down on the spot.
"Yeah, I did. I’m starving now—let’s grab sothing to eat," I said casually, pretending not to notice the way his ears were slightly red.
He let out a quiet breath, nodding.
"Alright."
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