Snow drifted steadily from the grey sky, blanketing the world in endless white. The wagon creaked with every lurch forward, its wheels struggling against the frosted earth. Though no storm raged, the cold bit deep, settling into bones and breath alike.
Emilia sat atop the merchant goods, swinging her legs in bliss as she flipped through her favourite book.
The guidebook had been her travel companion for ages, full of invaluable tips, historical tidbits, and even songs for the road.
And today? She was going to try one.
Clearing her throat, she snapped her fingers and began to sing. Her voice wasn't perfect, but it had its charm, carrying through the winter air.
Mr. Swordsman, ever the unexpected one, tapped his foot to the rhythm, adding a subtle beat. Pasta nodded along, busy cleaning his sword, barely paying attention.
Bhaa, however, did not have it.
He grumbled, glaring at the snowy horizon. If not for the whole castle ghost nonsense, they would have been at the Fourth Capital by now.
"Adventurers and their knack for wasting time," he said under his breath. "This is exactly why no merchant wants to take them anywhere! How are they so relaxed after nearly getting killed a few days ago? Is this normal for them?!"
Back in the wagon, Emilia finished her song with a flourish and hopped to her feet.
"Didn't know you could sing," Mr. Swordsman said.
Emilia chuckled, rubbing the back of her head. "I'm not that good, trust me. I've heard much better."
"Well, trust me, I've heard far worse," he whispered. "My days of travel with Bloodborne were filled with agony. And no, it wasn't from the battles."
Pasta looked up, startled. "You travelled with the guild master?"
Mr. Swordsman sighed, rubbing his temples. "Travelled with isn't the right word. Endured is more fitting. The man always loved getting into some sort of trouble. His cooking was horrendous, and his singing still haunts me at night"
Emilia and Pasta exchanged a look. This was… weird. Mr. Swordsman never complained about anything.
Mr. Swordsman frowned. "What?"
"Nothing," they said in unison.
Emilia stretched, stifling a yawn. "Honestly, I'm not that into singing anyway. Never have been, and probably never will be. But if there's one thing music-related I do love…"
Her eyes gleamed as she clenched her fists with excitement. "…it's playing the piano."
Pasta's shoulders sagged. Here we go again.
Mr. Swordsman raised an eyebrow. "You know how to play?"
Pasta groaned, dropping his blade. "Know how to play? She's a prodigy. Everyone back home says she's a natural. But for some reason, she's weirdly obsessed with those black and white keys."
Emilia stomped a foot against the wooden floor. "I am not obsessed! It's called adoration! And if I was so obsessed, why haven't I played in ages, huh? Yeah, answer me, Pasta!"
Pasta got on his feet, sheathing back his blade. "Because there's no piano here. Obviously. And because you've got a new temporary obsession."
"A-And what would that be?" she asked, her gaze carefully avoiding his.
Pasta shot her a knowing look. "You know what I mean. That guidebook of yours. Ever since we started this journey, you've been glued to it. You've got, what, six copies stuffed in your bag?"
"I do not!" she huffed, clutching her bag tighter.
"Then you won't mind if I check?"
Her head shook furiously. "Nope. Not happening."
Pasta sighed, his expression slowly twisting into something more sinister. "Come on, stop acting like a child and just let me see. If there's nothing in there, it shouldn't be a problem… right?"
His grin widened. "Let's have a look shall we"
"There's nothing, so leave me alone!" Emilia shot back, clutching her bag like her life depended on it.
But Pasta was already lunging.
His hands shot out, snatching the bag. He yanked it open only to freeze.
Inside, tucked between multiple copies of the guidebook, were… other things.
Notably, special clothing.
Clothing he was definitely not supposed to see.
The colour drained from Pasta's face. Slowly, he turned to Emilia.
She was trembling. But, it wasn't from the cold.
Her face darkened to a deep shade of crimson. Her fingers twitched toward her sword, her eyes burning with rage.
Pasta swallowed hard, a single bead of sweat rolling down his cheek.
"Oh."
"You're the worst!" Emilia yelled, unsheathing her sword.
A heavy thud echoed across the snowy plains, sending tremors through the ground.
#
Emilia gazed up at the endless expanse of the night sky, its velvety darkness pierced by shimmering constellations. It was as if the heavens themselves had once cradled those stars in their palms, only to scatter them across the firmament like glistening jewels. Beside her, Pasta lay sprawled on the ground, steam rising from his head.
Mr Swordsman sat cross-legged, arms folded as he quietly hummed the tune Emilia had sung earlier. Though he lacked the words, his low hum matched the melody well enough.
The wagon jolted to a halt.
Mr. Swordsman's grip tightened around his sword's hilt, though he remained still. Emilia sighed as she watched Pasta rise to his feet, rolling his shoulders.
"I got it," he said, steam still curling from his head as he trudged past her.
Encircling the wagon stood masked men, their eyes gleaming like wolves spotting easy prey.
Bhaa groaned again. "Third ambush this trip… Can't a merchant enjoy a moment of peace?" He turned to Pasta with an exhausted sigh. "You're up again, kid."
Pasta stepped out, raking a hand through his hair with a lazy yawn.
"Surrender your goods, and no one gets hurt," one of the bandits ordered.
Pasta ignored them, his sluggish stride carrying him forward.
"Hey! You deaf?" the supposed leader barked. "Start unloading those crates, now! Don't make me repeat myself."
Still, Pasta kept walking, scratching his ear.
The hunter leader scowled, dragging his boot across the snow to draw a line. "Cross this without handing over the goods, and you die. Then we'll deal with the rest of your friends."
Pasta exhaled slowly, shifting his weight forward. In a blink, he moved.
The bandits' blades barely had time to glint under the moonlight before he slipped past them, untouched. Their leader flinched as cold steel carved a swift arc on his chest. A faint gasp escaped his lips before his body collapsed into the snow.
Pasta didn't even glance back. His voice, void of warmth, cut through the still night.
"Your leader is dead. Leave now."
The remaining bandits hesitated, hands tightening around their weapons. Then, with a roar, they charged.
Pasta's fingers curled around his hilt. Could you not come at me all at once?
They rushed him like moths drawn to a flame. And like moths, they were doomed the moment they got too close.
Pasta reappeared behind them, smoothly sliding his sword back into its sheath.
Confused, the bandits stared down at themselves. No deep gashes, no severed limbs just light cuts. Then the agony struck.
Their veins bulged, dark and swollen. Their masks tumbled to the snow, followed closely by their convulsing bodies.
Bhaa sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "That sword of yours… Should be far, far away from me, you creepy brat."
Pasta let out a small chuckle. "Relax. I carry the antidote with me at all times." He tilted his head back, gazing up at the stars.
This was easy. Too easy. He had only needed to land scratches. Yet the thought gnawed at him. If he wanted to reach Mr. Swordsman's level, he had to be faster, and more skilled.
The hunters he had faced so far were weak. But if Tame's warnings were right, stronger ones awaited them deeper in the realm.
Shaking the thought from his mind, he climbed back onto the wagon, where Emilia sat, watching him with concern flickering in her eyes.
--
Hours passed in steady travel until a sudden thud shook the wagon, forcing it to a halt.
"Damn it!" Bhaa barked, leaping from his seat as the horses neighed in distress. He rushed to calm them, muttering curses under his breath.
Emilia climbed down, her brows furrowed. "Something wrong?"
Bhaa crouched beside the wheel, inspecting the damage. "Chipped on the side. Must've been the rocks. I hate when this happens."
"Don't you have a spare?" she asked.
Bhaa shot her a flat look. "If I had a spare, do you think I'd still be here complaining?"
Emilia blinked. "Yes."
For a moment, Bhaa just stared at her. Then, he slumped his shoulders with a heavy sigh. "You know what? You adventurers should make yourselves useful and push the wagon."
"Wait, what?!"
Pasta hopped down, stretching. "Did I just hear 'push the wagon'?"
Bhaa dusted off his coat and approached the boy. "Look, I know it's not ideal, but what choice do we have? You're adventurers, strong adventurers," he said, then gave Emilia a sideways glance. "Well… some of you are strong."
Emilia scoffed. "How about making a new wheel?"
Pasta turned to her, amused. "Do you know how to make a wheel?"
She folded her arms. "Shouldn't you? You're the guy here. And apparently the strong one, too."
Before Pasta could retort, the wagon doors rattled open. Mr. Swordsman stepped out, his heavy fur cape trailing behind him, catching flecks of snow.
"What seems to be the problem?" he murmured.
Emilia and Pasta filled him in.
Mr. Swordsman nodded, stroking his chin. "Yes… I know how to make a wheel necessary for our travels."
The siblings grinned, instantly passing off the responsibility to their capable guardian.
Yet, within Mr. Swordsman's mind, a different thought took place.
Crafting a wheel was a craftsman's work, not a swordsman's. But his reputation was on the line.
He watched the siblings chat with Bhaa about the process, their trust in him unwavering.
At the very least… I should make an effort. Change for the better. Change for them.
After all, these two had saved him. Not from death, but from himself. He owed them more than he could ever repay. If building a wheel was a step toward that debt, then so be it.
"Is it safe to leave Bhaa alone while we gather wood? One of us should stay behind," Emilia suggested.
Bhaa smacked his fist against the wagon's side. "I don't care if you all leave me. I was already planning to head out alone. I can handle myself."
Emilia frowned. "Still, it'd be safer if someone stayed with you."
Mr. Swordsman had already turned toward the forest. "No need to worry. We may be in the middle of nowhere, but the merchant claims he can handle himself. Besides…" His voice lowered as he cast a sharp glance over his shoulder. "I'm not leaving any of you alone. Not even for a second."
Emilia hesitated, but in the end, she followed him.
"You've got ten minutes," Bhaa called after them, stepping back into the wagon. "We still have a long trip ahead."
He yanked out multiple blankets, a pillow, and just in case a knife.
#
The crew ventured deeper into the forest or what remained of it.
Most of the trees had been reduced to charred remnants, their blackened husks stark against the snowy expanse. Yet beyond the devastation, something else loomed.
Emilia's eyes widened, shimmering with wonder. "Are those… cherry blossoms?"
Amidst the frozen wasteland, a grove of delicate pink petals swayed in the wind, untouched by frost. The trees stood tall, their beauty surreal among the burnt forest.
Mr. Swordsman took the lead, stepping cautiously between the trees. Cherry blossoms flourishing in this environment? Unheard of. But what unsettled him more was the clash of auras within this space. Several presences, colliding in silence.
And worse… every single one of them felt familiar.
Pasta yawned, hands laced behind his head. "So, we're just gonna ignore the 'cherry blossoms in the snow' thing? No questions? No reactions? Come on it can't be that I'm seeing things"
Emilia kept her gaze ahead, voice flat. "As Mr. Swordsman always says, 'It's best to ignore these things.' We're here for wood, nothing else. And don't forget, we left Bhaa alone."
Pasta eyed her suspiciously, walking closer as if to inspect her. "That doesn't sound like you at all. Where's your sense of adventure? Maybe if we check this out, we'll find an ancient god or something."
Emilia shoved his face away. "Yeah, yeah, ancient god, sure. Let's be logical. If we waste time here, Bhaa could be in danger. Let's just get the—"
The trees suddenly shuddered.
A sweet melody rippled through the air.
Pasta and Mr. Swordsman drew their blades, scanning the grove for the source of the music.
Emilia's breath hitched. "Look…!"
Above them, a woman hovered midair.
Her flowing colourful garments were adorned with tiny silver bells, their chimes blending seamlessly with the tune she played on a bamboo flute. Strands of her long blonde hair danced with the wind, and much like Mr. Swordsman, she wore a wide-brimmed hat, except hers was intricately decorated with charms and silk threads.
Cherry blossoms whirled around her, moving as if spellbound by her melody.
Emilia felt her heart pound. That hat. That presence. That unnatural grace.
A disciple.
One of the legendary protectors of the Nine Realms. The very figures she had crossed paths with after Pyrovile's disaster.
In a blink, the woman closed the distance between them. Materialising right before Mr. Swordsman.
Too fast for him to react.
And before he could raise his sword—
She kissed him.
Emilia and Pasta screamed, their weapons clattering to the ground.
The woman pulled back with a soft chuckle, hands resting on her hips. "I see you're doing well, Hady."
She twirled her flute between her fingers before tucking it into her sash. "Sorry to keep you waiting all these years, sweetheart."
Mr. Swordsman stood frozen, face shadowed beneath his hat.
He said nothing.
She giggled, tapping his hat repeatedly, trying to provoke a reaction. "Hady, Hady, Hady. You are Hady, right?"
She placed a hand on her cheek, feigning shock. "Oh no, did I just kiss a stranger? Wait…"
Her gaze drifted toward Emilia and Pasta. "No, you're definitely Hady. Hady!"
"Ahem… that was quite the… greeting," he whispered, adjusting his hat.
"Come on, let me see that cute face of yours," she said, leaning in.
"No."
"Come on, come on~"
"No."
Lily grabbed his arm and tugged, but he didn't budge.
She blinked. "…Since when were you this strong?" She narrowed her eyes. "You've been working out again, haven't you? You sneaky swordsman."
His grip tightened around her wrist. "What are you doing here, Lily?"
Lily's smirk widened. With a fluid motion, she slid her hands into his cloak and tickled him.
Mr. Swordsman flinched. Just slightly.
His blue eyes snapped to hers. "What is your business here, Lily?"
She pouted. "Come now, don't be so grumpy. I came for you, obviously."
She flicked his hat.
"And I know you've been dying to see me, too. It's clear as day, Hady. Clear as day."
For a moment, Mr. Swordsman studied her in silence.
Then, for the first time in what felt like forever…
He smiled.
"…I see you haven't changed. Still crazy as ever."
"And why would I?" she said, tapping his cheek. Then, after a pause, she tilted her head. "By the way, what's with the fur coat? You were never the fashionable type. And is that a flowery design I see? You big softie"
Mr. Swordsman exhaled a quiet chuckle. "Yeah… the girl got me one."
Emilia and Pasta blinked rapidly.
Slowly.
Processing.
…Did they just witness what they think they witnessed?
Mr. Swordsman just laughed!
Emilia stepped forward, her curiosity getting the best of her. Who in the world could make Mr. Swordsman act this way?
"Excuse me?" she asked, tilting her head. "Are you perhaps… friends with Mr. Swordsman?"
"Friends with him?"
Lily smirked, crossing her arms over Mr Swordsman's shoulder with a teasing grin. "I'm his wife."
Silence.
The siblings turned to each other, their imaginations spiralling into the depths of the unknown. Images of Mr Swordsman picking wildflowers, writing love poems with the same hands that cut down monsters and taking romantic strolls under the moonlight flooded their minds.
The sheer thought of it sent their souls skyward, where they ascended into the afterlife without so much as a whisper, only the distant sound of their spirits drifting toward the afterlife.
"Don't go spouting nonsense," Mr. Swordsman muttered, pinching her cheek.
She winced but grinned through the pain. "Aww, don't be like that, Hady. You do love me, right? Go on, say it. Say it for your precious flower."
He sighed. "We trained under the same master. She's a friend of mine."
"Wrong. I'm his wife," she declared, raising a finger.
Mr. Swordsman pinched harder.
"Okay, okay—friend!"
Satisfied, he let go, and Lily rubbed her cheek with a pout.
"...Someday, wife," she mumbled under her breath.
Mr. Swordsman narrowed his eyes. "What was that?"
"Nothing~," she said, looking away innocently.
Meanwhile, the siblings came back to life with a loud gasp, clutching their chests as if they had just escaped death itself.
Pasta coughed, staring up at Lily. If she trained with Mr. Swordsman, then…
"Wait, does that mean you're as strong as him?" he asked, standing up straight.
Lily's smirk widened. "No, Mighty Pasta. I'm stronger. Hehehe."
Pasta blinked. "You're stronger? And wait. How do you know my name?"
Lily leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "Oh, I know lots of things," she said cryptically. Then her gaze slid to Emilia. "Speaking of which, you must've met my colleagues. Ugh, those stiff old statues. Hope they didn't bore you too much."
Mr. Swordsman's eyes sharpened. "What's that about?"
"Nothing," Emilia answered too quickly, turning away.
Lily tilted her head, then turned back to Mr. Swordsman. "You're just gonna let that slide, hon?"
"I'm not about to argue over who's stronger," he replied, arms crossed. "Let's just drop it."
Lily grinned, drawing her sword with a playful twirl. "Oh, come on, just one little duel! It's been ages since our last one."
"Here?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Why not, sweetie?" She leaned in close, whispering near his ear. "Let's see if my Hady is still there…"
Mr. Swordsman remained still, fingers resting on his blade's hilt.
For the briefest moment, her aura twisted. The playful warmth drained away, leaving something dark and dangerous in its place.
His grip tightened.
He knew that shift.
And Lily was not one to make empty challenges.
#
Lily and Mr Swordsman stood in the clearing, the air thick with drifting petals.
Lily's golden eyes locked onto him, her lips curling into a playful chuckle. Moving as if the hardened earth beneath her was nothing but air, she danced forward, her steps light, almost weightless. The bells woven into her attire sang with every motion, their soft chimes blending into an enchanting rhythm.
In the blink of an eye, she was already upon him, her blade flashing toward his face.
Steel met steel in a ringing clash as Mr Swordsman deflected the strike, shoving her back. Yet before his counterattack could land, she flipped effortlessly over him, executing a swift, airborne slash. He barely managed to parry before she landed, already slicing toward him again.
Parry, strike, dodge, repeat, it was as easy as breathing for her.
She was relentless. Her every movement was fluid, unpredictable like a flower twirling in the breeze, impossible to catch. And those bells… those cursed bells…
The delicate chime rang in his ears, breaking his focus.
Mr Swordsman swung again and again, but her flexibility made dodging seem effortless as if it was second nature to her.
Emilia watched from the sidelines, but her mind was far from the fight.
A disciple… in the Fourth?
She could still recall their hatred for him, how they warned her not to get too close, how they spoke his name with nothing but disdain. And yet, here one of them stood, smiling at him, fighting as if they had always been by his side.
Why?
Beside her, Pasta's eyes gleamed with admiration as he observed the duel. Both fighters were exceptional in their own right. If Mr Swordsman's style was like flowing water, calm yet unyielding. Then Lily was the wind, slipping through every opening with precise, effortless grace.
But there was something else.
"She's faster than him," Pasta whispered, his heart pounding.
Lily's smile never wavered.
It was that very smile that unsettled Mr. Swordsman. He had avoided her for many reasons. Her terrifying speed, her cunning intelligence, her sheer adaptability in combat.
But it was her smile that always burned into his soul.
A smile brimming with confidence.
A smile that promised victory.
A smile that revelled in the thrill of battle.
A smile that whether he wanted to admit it or not pushed him forward and the reason he was here in the first place.
And then—
They vanished.
Emilia's breath hitched. Her wide eyes darted toward her brother.
"Pasta! What happened?! They just disappeared!"
Pasta clenched his fists, staring at the faint, ghostly slashes that lingered in the air, though their bodies were nowhere to be seen.
His voice trembled with awe.
"The second power, Emilia… Parallel Space."
Within the space, the forest was drained of colour. Time itself seemed to crawl, every movement slower than a leaf drifting from a branch. Yet in stark contrast, they moved. Two figures locked in a breathtaking clash, their speed so intense it became a dance. A dance that, for Lily, was exactly what she had been hoping for.
Strike after strike, Mr Swordsman met her blade, his defences impenetrable.
But she was relentless.
The bells woven into her attire chimed wildly, their melody growing frantic as her speed surged. The rhythm of her footsteps matched their song, forming a symphony that only worked to unnerve him further.
"Hey now, calm down a bit," he muttered, deflecting her rapid attacks.
She moved like a bird, graceful, untouchable yet struck like a serpent, her blade slithering toward every weak point she could find. Her movements had a rhythm, like a musician composing a masterpiece mid-battle, while he remained the unshakable fortress, standing firm against the storm of steel.
"You do know," she said between slashes, "without it, you're going to lose."
"I plan not to use it." His blue eyes shimmered with resolve.
Lily flipped over him, her sharp gaze analysing every detail of his stance. Then she grinned.
"Hehehe. You're so nice, Hady. Thanks for the win."
Twisting in midair, she locked her legs around his throat and sent him crashing to the ground with a flawless reversal.
Emilia and Pasta gaped in disbelief.
Lily was already on top of him, her blade at his throat, poking his forehead with her finger.
"You're getting there," she whispered, her smile glowing brighter than before. "I'm so happy right now to hear you say that, still that isn't the answer."
Mr. Swordsman said nothing, only observing as a single tear slipped down her cheek.
Lily quickly wiped it away, her expression shifting when she realised the position they were in. She leapt to her feet, cleared her throat, and then turned back to him with a teasing smirk.
"Alright now, victory kiss."
Before she could get closer, Mr. Swordsman raised a hand, stopping her with a firm touch to her face while unsheathing his blade.
"Um… Mr. Swordsman?" Emilia's voice wavered as her gaze drifted to the devastation around them. The once-proud trees were reduced to nothing but splintered rubble. "You caught up and everything, but… you do realiSe—"
Mr. Swordsman kept his hand on Lily's face. "Right. Bhaa must be waiting. Let's make this quick."
Lily tilted her head. "Make what quick?"
"The wheel of our ride broke, so we're here to fix it," Pasta explained. Then, his eyes gleamed with admiration. "Also, you have to show me how to move like that! Mr. Swordsman hasn't taught me those techniques yet. It was like you could move on air!"
Lily turned to Mr. Swordsman, holding back her laughter before failing miserably. "You? A teacher?"
He simply sighed. "You should excuse us. We have a wheel to make."
Emilia knelt beside the broken remains of the trees, carefully searching for a suitable slab of wood. Yet her thoughts were elsewhere.
The fight just now…
They had both been holding back and still, she won.
And then… there was the matter of her being a disciple.
A shadow loomed beside her.
"Hey, Emilia."
Emilia yelped, jolting as Lily knelt in the snow beside her.
"Y-you scared me! Do you need something?" she stammered, trying to steady her breathing.
Lily simply stared into her eyes. Emilia fidgeted under the weight of her gaze, chuckling nervously.
"Yeah… you haven't seen it yet," Lily murmured.
"Seen what?"
Lily rose to her feet. "You respect Hady, right?"
"Y-yeah, of course."
"You trust him?"
"Absolutely." Emilia's answer was sharp, unwavering.
"You love him?"
"W-WHAT?!" Her face burned. "No! Of course not! W-why would you even say that?!"
Lily crossed her arms, nodding to herself. "Hmmm. You're a good one, then."
"What?" Emilia twitched, irritation creeping into her voice.
Lily ignored it.
"Oh, and Emilia," she added, her voice quieter now. "Pay no mind to me being part of them. I'm not here for you—I'm here for Hady."
She paused, glancing around as if checking for unseen eyes before leaning in close.
"Since we're friends, I'll let you in on a little secret, okay?"
Emilia hesitated but nodded. "…Okay?"
Lily's voice was barely above a whisper.
"We know who you are. And we know your current situation."
Emilia stiffened.
"You're being constantly watched," Lily continued. "And, if I were you, I'd be very cautious of Hady."
Emilia parted her lips to speak, but Lily pressed a finger to them.
"I know you trust him. I do too," she whispered. "But remember this, Emilia. A gift is not a curse. It's something the user actually craves. And even the curses that come with it… are the user's own wish."
Emilia's breath hitched. "…So, it's about his gift?"
Lily only chuckled. "Maybe. But that's for you to figure out."
With that, she turned on her heel and strolled back to Mr. Swordsman's side, leaving Emilia alone in the snow, her heart pounding with a storm of questions.
#
Mr. Swordsman stood in front of the massive pile of wood, arms crossed, deep in thought. It wasn't just a little too much for a single wheel. It was an absurd amount. Enough to build a second wagon. Maybe even a third.
He sighed. Have I gone insane, or is that lunatic swordswoman infecting everyone with her madness?
"Anything wrong, Mr. Swordsman?" Emilia asked, eyes sparkling with anticipation. Seeing him craft a wheel was, for some reason, the most exciting thing to her.
He placed a hand over his face. Why is she so eager? It's just a wheel. A WHEEL.
Meanwhile, Lily sat innocently on a tree stump, kicking her legs as she watched him. How did he even get good at woodworking? Back in the village, he hated it. Was he glaring at her? Why? All she wanted was a kiss. Why was he so mad?
"Hurry up, Mr. Swordsman," Pasta said, rubbing his hands. "I don't want to push the wagon.
My palms are already full of splinters from gathering wood"
Mr. Swordsman took a deep breath. Okay. First step.
He drew his sword.
Lily immediately burst into laughter, clutching her stomach as she fell sideways.
Mr. Swordsman blinked. "Is something funny?"
"No, no," Lily said, waving him off. "It's just—never mind, just… go ahead."
He stabbed the wood.
Lily's laughter doubled.
He scowled, realising something was wrong but not quite sure what.
"You're killing me, Hady," Lily said between giggles, pulling a small knife from her belt and handing it to him. "I haven't given you this yet, have I? You did ask for one, right?"
"…Yes. Of course. I forgot mine," he said, taking the knife.
He awkwardly began cutting at the corners of the wood, his movements clumsy yet determined.
Lily stood beside him, her chuckles never truly stopping.
"Perfect opportunity for you to teach me, then," she said, looping her arm around his. "I've always wanted to learn."
Emilia perked up. "Me too!"
And just like that, what should have been a simple process became a lesson.
Minutes turned to hours.
From the outside, it looked as if Lily was mimicking Mr. Swordsman's steps. But in reality, she was slipping in subtle corrections every time he was about to ruin something, all while the others remained blissfully unaware that their so-called teacher was actually the student.
At last, the wheel was finished.
Emilia and Pasta took turns holding it, marvelling at the smooth surface.
"It's so well-made!" Emilia beamed.
"I can't believe it," Pasta muttered, flipping it over. "Not a single rough spot… Got to say though who knew woodwork was this exciting"
Lily dusted off her hands. "Well, I'll be taking my leave, then."
She turned to walk away—
"Lily," Mr. Swordsman called.
He approached her, his expression unreadable. "I've been having these memories. Dreams, really. They've been haunting me for some time now." His gaze sharpened. "Do you happen to have any answers?"
Lily tilted her head before stepping in close, rising onto her toes to tap his chest.
"You don't want to get rid of them anymore?" she asked, locking eyes with him in a brief silence.
"Whenever you're ready, Hady," she said softly. "The answers will find their way to you. But until then… try to relax a little."
She turned, leaping onto a tree branch.
"Don't worry," she said, tipping her hat. "We'll meet again"
Her eyes flicked to Pasta. The smirk widened.
"I'm sure of it. Hehehe~"
And just like that, she vanished.
The siblings blinked at the drifting petals, still unaccustomed to how fast she was.
Mr. Swordsman stared at the spot where she had stood moments ago.
It's been so long… and yet, she hasn't changed one bit.
#
"Ten minutes, I said. Ten! And you adventurers spent over an hour instead," Bhaa said, arms crossed.
Beside him, three unconscious men lay sprawled on the ground.
Pasta gawked. "You really can handle yourself."
Bhaa sniffed. "Every merchant must learn a trick or two. Thieves are everywhere, you know. Now, where's my wheel?"
They handed it over.
After a thorough inspection, he gave an approving nod. "Not bad. The swordsman must be a decent woodworker." His eyes flicked toward Mr. Swordsman. With skills like this, I could make a fortune off him. I just need to get him to work for me…
Before Bhaa could hatch his scheme, a woman appeared—lounging atop the wagon.
She wore a very revealing outfit, her dark, twisted hair wild and unkempt. Curved blades dangled from chains on her back, the metal rattling as she shifted.
Mr. Swordsman's eye twitched.
How many strange people am I going to meet today?
Despite her unsettling appearance, she didn't radiate any sinister energy. Her anger was clear, but it wasn't directed at them. Compared to the last lunatic he met, she seemed calmer. Or at least… that's what she wanted them to think.
"I'm looking for a certain swordswoman," she said, voice smooth yet laced with irritation. "Wears the same kind of hat as you, swordsman. We have business to discuss." Her fingers tapped impatiently against the hilt of her blade. "Tell me where she went, or—"
"Over there," Mr. Swordsman said, pointing without hesitation.
Everyone blinked.
The woman narrowed her eyes, momentarily thrown off. "…Oh. Thank you."
Without another word, she followed the trail.
Emilia and Pasta turned to Mr. Swordsman, wondering just how a bad husband he was.
"…What?"
"Nothing," they said, their judging eyes locking on him.