I'm Not in Love

“Hey, Illusionist, are there more cups around here, or is that the only one?” John asked, looking through the open doorway.

“The house across from the blacksmith’s is the baker’s house. There are plates, cups, and bread there. Each of you can have a loaf. Call it accomodations from the people you’re saving,” the bald man replied, not looking up from his ale.

“You guys heard him. The house with the forge has to be the blacksmith’s house, so the one across from that is the baker’s house,” John concluded, turning back to his group. Grace and Abigail had worked together to form an impromptu cooking pit with the posts from the house’s fences and wood from the trees. Three slabs of meat were hung over a roaring fire, slowly roasting.

Lucille popped out of a nearby abode, carrying a table with one hand and a chair with the other. John, wanting to play his part in helping, said “I’ll get the bread and cups, everybody else get a chair. We’ll have a nice cookout, we deserve to relax.”

The other two went into the shack the elf had just emerged from while John headed toward the white-roofed baker’s house. It was the second biggest house in the town, other than the house the Illusionist had claimed. The front was a store area, with loaves of bread on display on a series of shelves. An illusion of an old man stood behind a counter connected to the shelves and stared blankly at John as he walked in.

John collected four loaves into his inventory, inspecting each one carefully beforehand. It was potato bread, which wasn’t his favorite, but beggars can’t be choosers. Where did all of this stuff even come from? Obviously this village isn’t real, so the buildings had to have been made for our benefit. The food, the furniture, everything was made just to be used in this test? Isn’t that kind of a waste of resources?

Deciding not to think about it too hard, he moved behind the counter, passing through the old man to search the cabinets there for cups and plates. He rounded up six wooden plates that could fit about half of a steak, four metal cups that mirrored the one the Illusionist held, and a ceramic pot to store water in.

Exiting the house, he saw everybody else (including the overweight arcanist) sitting around the fire pit in a semicircle, Abigail, Lucille, Grace, and The Illusionist in order from left to right. The leftmost chair sat vacant, for John. Between them and the firepit lay a small table, large enough for their cups and plates, but not much else.

Setting the pot, cups, and plates on the table, he filled the vase with water from his inventory. One unit was more than enough to fill it. Deciding to put work before pleasure, he started asking the Illusionist the questions he had, “So, how does this work? Do we protect the buildings themselves, your illusions, what?”

“After the vampires attack, I am to assess the damage or lack thereof done to the village and which of my illusions have been attacked,” the Illusionist answered, taking a swig from his cup of ****.

“Say, where did you get that stuff? I’ve looked through almost every house and couldn’t find any food or water,” Lucille asked, noticing that the cup refilled as she spoke.

“Well, there’s actually nothing in this cup. It’s an illusion. I can trick myself into thinking there is though,” he laughed, setting the empty cup on the table. “I will take some real water though, if that’s alright.”

“Of course, I didn’t invite you out here just to watch us eat and drink,” Grace cut in, filling the man’s cup with water. She did the same for the other four in short order before taking the one closest to her.

“So… obviously it’d be easier to guard the ‘townsfolk’ if they were all in one place. Will you put all your illusions in that large house in the center of town when the vampires attack?” John requested, unequipping his duster and gunbelt to get a little more comfortable.

“Well, if this were a real contract, you’d have to convince the people to do as you say. Since it’s just me, and you’re giving me free food, sure,” the bald man agreed, taking a plate off the table. “It’s pretty rare to find edible meat in K-66, you guys got pretty lucky.”

“The first one is done, the other two will be done in a few minutes,” Abigail said, taking the meat off the fire with her bare hands. John had to remind himself of her resistance to heat, as doing so would burn anybody else present. “I want first dibs, we should split each steak in half. Who else wants?”

Nobody seemed to be particularly starving, but when John inhaled deeply and smelled the intoxicating aroma of the cooked meat he chimed in, “I’ll take the other half. Here’s the bread.” He took the food out of his inventory, handing his teammates their share. “Sorry, didn’t take any for you,” he apologized to the unexpected guest, who simply shook his head.

“It’s alright, I’ve brought my own,” the Illusionist said, a loaf of the same bread fading into view on his plate.

“Is the bread we have real?” John asked, noticing that all five loaves present looked exactly the same, down to size, shape, and ridges from the ‘oven’.

“Doesn’t really matter,” the man replied as he took a sip of water. John wondered what else in the town was an illusion.

“Does anybody have something to cut this with?” the brunette asked, holding up the cooked steak. Lucille formed a butcher’s knife out of her mana and handed it to her. John and Grace were both glad that it wasn’t a bowie knife.

Taking a plate from the table, Abigail put half the cooked meat on it before handing it to John, putting the other half on her own plate. Looking at the still steaming meat, he decided to let it cool for a minute or so before eating it. Looking at the fiery girl beside him, he sighed, “Alright, we need to talk.”

“I don’t know what about,” Abigail replied, a blush tinting her cheeks. She dug into her food immediately, not needing to worry about burning her mouth as John did. Seeing that he wouldn’t let it go, they both got up and walked a few steps away from the group.

“It was pretty messed up to kiss me. You know I have a girlfriend, and you’re friends with my girlfriend,” John said, looking Abigail in the eyes. She looked the most scared he had ever seen her, which was a little funny considering the physical dangers they had been through. Then again, I guess she’s never really been in danger so far.

“I know! It was a stupid thing to do. A stupid, heat-of-the-moment thing that I regret a lot. It was just that you saved me and then you were comforting me and I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Well, you could have not kissed me,” John said, as a joke more than anything else. Abigail didn’t see it that way, and her hands clenched and unclenched as her expression fell. “Hey, it’s alright. If it was just an impulsive thing, and you regret it, then it’s alright. Just… don’t do it again. Still friends?” He offered his hand, and she hugged him instead.

“Yes. Please still friends… and please don’t tell Jenny,” Abigail meekly whispered in his ear, pulling away after a few moments.

“There is one thing though. You have to promise me that it really didn’t mean anything. Promise me that you felt nothing when you kissed me, and I won’t tell her. If it was all one big mistake, then telling her would do nothing other than hurt her.”

Abigail’s usual smile replaced her sullen expression, and she cheerfully said, “I promise! I just wasn’t thinking. I wouldn’t want to hurt you two.”

It was the truth. Well… mostly anyway. She really wasn’t thinking, and she really didn’t want to hurt them, but putting on her cheerful persona was the only way Abigail was able to lie to both him and herself and say that she felt nothing when she kissed him. The truth was the opposite, but for now she was able to tell herself that the spark was just because of what he did, not who he was. Unfortunately,