That god didn't just give me a second chance… he gave me the golden key to exactly what, deep down, I'd always wanted, Mara thought, feeling nothing but gratitude toward that god.
With that final thought, Mara decided she'd wandered the market long enough.
She turned around and began weaving her way back through the crowd, searching for Alice's figure among the sea of people.
As Mara made her way back to the stall where she'd left Alice, she ran into her halfway there, walking toward her with a purposeful stride.
In each hand, Alice carried a thick cloth bag, both bulging and clearly heavy with the provisions inside.
"Let me help you," Mara offered, stepping closer with the intention of lightening her load.
"Are you sure you can handle it, dear?" Alice asked, smiling warmly, though a hint of doubt showed in the tilt of her head.
"Don't worry, I think I can manage," Mara replied, trying to sound confident.
But the moment she took one of the bags Alice handed her, she understood her mistake. As soon as the weight transferred to her hands, the bag—stuffed with what felt like dense tubers and vegetables—dropped like an anchor, nearly dragging her down with it.
Mara stumbled forward, barely avoiding a face-first meeting with the dirt ground.
Shit… this is really heavy, she thought, frustration flushing her cheeks.
Her new body—slender and lacking the accumulated strength of her past life—was pathetically weak for such mundane tasks.
The contrast couldn't have been clearer: she vividly remembered how easily Alice had lifted the burly Beckie, dragged her along, and practically tossed her down the stairs like a sack of feathers.
Alice didn't just seem strong—she was far too strong for someone who looked like a mature woman and was, theoretically, blind.
With a strained grunt, Mara managed to lift the bag off the ground, sliding both arms underneath and hugging it to her chest. Her arm and back muscles protested instantly.
"See? … I told you I could do it," she said, her voice tight with effort, holding the bag with a difficulty obvious to anyone watching.
Alice simply let out a soft chuckle—not mocking, but tinged with amused tenderness. Without another comment, she resumed walking, and Mara followed, dragging her feet under the burden.
The walk back turned into a test of endurance for Mara. She moved slowly, breathing hard, each step a small victory over gravity.
With every meter, the bag seemed to grow heavier, and Alice, walking beside her, soon noticed her struggle.
Halfway there, when Mara's panting became audible, Alice stopped abruptly. She nodded toward an alley branching off from the main street—darker, quieter, and away from the flow of people.
"Dear, let's stop and rest for a moment. Come, follow me," Alice said, her voice sounding like salvation.
"O-okay," Mara managed, her reply broken by her lack of breath.
As she followed Alice into the alley, Mara realized how familiar the place felt in its desolation: dirty stone walls, uneven cobblestone ground, stacks of forgotten wooden crates.
It looked a lot like the alley where she'd woken up in this world—but now, instead of panic, it offered a brief refuge from exhaustion.
Alice sat down on one of the sturdier crates, carefully placing her own bag on another.
Then she turned her "gaze" toward Mara, who was setting her bag down on the same crate Alice had used.
"Come, dear. Sit here," Alice said, her voice soft, almost maternal. To make her meaning clear, she lightly patted her thighs in an unmistakable invitation.
At the sight of Alice's gesture, Mara didn't hesitate for even a second. Any reservations she might have had evaporated under the mix of physical exhaustion and the constant attraction she felt toward the woman.
With a clumsy but determined movement, she dropped the heavy bag beside the crate and stepped closer.
Mara practically rushed to sit on Alice's thighs, feeling the comforting firmness of her lap through the fabric of her clothes.
It was instant relief for her tired muscles—but also something more: an electric intimacy that ran up her spine.
"Well, I see you didn't hesitate for even a second," Alice remarked, her tone playful, charged with a private amusement meant only for the two of them.
"Hahaha, of course I wasn't going to waste the opportunity," Mara replied, smiling as she played along.
Then, almost instinctively, she let her head sink into the soft space between Alice's breasts.
Alice let out a soft moan at the sensation of Mara's face pressing between them—a muffled, genuine sound that betrayed the pleasure the contact brought her.
She made no attempt to push Mara away; instead, her arms gently closed around Mara's shoulders in a protective embrace.
Encouraged by the lack of resistance—and by that escaped sound—Mara decided to go one step further.
With hands still trembling slightly from her earlier effort, but now guided by a very different impulse, she began to massage Alice's breasts through the fabric of her dress.
Mara knew they were safe, hidden in the dimness of the empty alley, where no one could see them.
"Dear… someone might see us," Alice murmured, but her voice was breathy, lacking any real conviction.
It wasn't an order—just a weak warning that dissolved in the air between them.
Mara lifted her head, her orange eyes meeting the place where Alice's gaze should have been, behind the blindfold.
"I'm sorry, Alice… but I can't stop anymore," she confessed—and it was the truth.
The last remnants of her self-control, already worn down by a day full of strangeness, tension, and discoveries, completely fell apart.