Zog glanced at the store owner, then at his wife.
'I never would have guessed. This old man looks all respectable, but it turns out he's on the same level as Epstein.'
'An old man robbing the cradle!'
'To put it more poetically, a pear blossom tree crushing a crabapple.'
Noticing the surprise mixed with teasing and a hint of disgust in Zog's eyes, the store owner tried to explain.
"No, no, it's like this, uh…"
He stammered for a good while without managing to say anything coherent, which only made him look more suspicious.
Such a huge age gap wasn't exactly rare; plenty of noble lords and ladies were known for setting new lows in that department.
If they were careless and got exposed, they would become the butt of everyone's jokes.
Mainstream societal values were still opposed to such things.
The wife seemed to notice her husband's predicament. She brushed the hair back from one side of her head, revealing a pointed ear.
"I'm an Elf."
"A Half-Elf?"
"No, an Elf."
