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“Safe travels,” Keliandra says, bidding farewell to the guards, then turns to the merchant, who is wisely standing outside the shop. “You know, there are two things I hate in life: first, when people call me a dark lunar elf, because I was raised by a human and didn’t really know my own people, and second, when someone messes with my face. I guess it’s just a racial trait. You hit both marks just because. Naturally, I got angry. But the issue could have been resolved quickly and easily. And yet, you clearly prefer complicated solutions. Tell me: why do you hate me so much? By the way, there doesn’t seem to be anyone around. It’s a great opportunity to kill me, arrange the pieces of my body in a strange way, and blame it all on the serial killer who’s been operating in the capital. Not a bad plan, is it?”