"You think I’m stupid?" Nana Toki asked, her smile thin as frost on a blade.

"Not… not at all." Lorin’s scalp prickled like grass in an east wind.

He couldn’t explain it; the princess’s smile crawled cold as a spider.

Under her steady stare, pins marched across his head like ants.

"I heard back in a village the Hedon Kingdom’s princess cares for soldiers and people, like a lantern in rain." Lorin slid his gaze away, tossing flattery like petals in a stream.

It didn’t work; Nana Toki weighs deeds like stones, not praise like smoke.

"Yeah! Sister Rock Sugar treats us great, chasing bad guys like wind."

"And she shares her harvest, sweets and grain like sunshine."

The four kids around Lorin beamed, faces bright as ripe peaches.

Their small bodies circled him like sparrows; one by one, they chirped her virtues in Mida Village.

Lorin stood stuck, a post in the middle of a lively pond.

"Alright, alright, stop orbiting him. Don’t you have farm work at home?"

"Get back before dusk or the scolding will hit like summer hail."

Thick-skinned, Nana Toki took the kids’ praise like rain on tile.

She waved them off and sized up the Protagonist Lord, adrift like a stray boat.

After a long beat, she invited him inside, voice steady as a hearth.

"This… maybe not proper." Lorin’s doubt rose like mist after dawn.

She was a princess; he was a farm lad, clay under court boots.

He’d only come to ask directions, like a passerby under a waystone.

He didn’t want roadside trouble sprouting like weeds.

"Are you a man or not?" Her words cracked like bamboo in winter.

"I’m not blushing—what the hell are you shy about? Think I’ll eat you like a wolf?"

"Get in." She shot Lorin a glare sharp as a thrown pebble.

She dragged him inside and set down a cup of "tea"—plain boiled water, clear as glass.

"You’re heading to the capital to become a Hero, then help seal the demon gods, right?" She spoke cool as night water.

"Mm…" His assent drifted like a small nod in fog.

"Then do me a favor." She sat opposite, cup in hand, eyes steady as anchors.

"For a few days, delay your trip. Stay in Mida Village for a while."

"Huh…?" Confusion crossed Lorin’s face like a cloud shadow over fields.

He still didn’t understand, mind ticking like a quiet mill.

"As a princess, I’m infected. The capital’s in panic, and they say a demon god will revive."

"Hedon’s capital is sealed; you won’t get in anytime soon." Her lie slid like silk over thorns.

"I’ve a friend trapped in the Marl Kingdom. I want to fetch her."

"While I’m gone, watch over the villagers of Mida Village, will you?"

"With the capital sealed, you’d only wait at the gates, burning daylight."

"If you’re idle, lend me your hands." Her persuasion flowed like warm tea.

She didn’t mention she planned to kidnap Marl Kingdom’s Grand Princess; that spike might break the Protagonist Lord.

He might refuse if the lightning flashed too bright.

"Of course I won’t make you work for nothing." Her voice rang like a coin on stone.

"When it’s done, I’ll write you a recommendation to enter the city."

"And I’ll grant one extra request, within my power, so long as it’s not outrageous."

"A princess’s favor is worth something." Her smile curled like a ribbon.

"Even if the Demon Blight pushed me to the border, my standing’s solid in the kingdom."

That wasn’t a lie; the king hadn’t stripped Nana Toki’s rights as Hedon’s princess.

Her past deeds—protecting the realm, caring for the people—stood like carved pillars.

No throne would erase her for one infection, not with old merit green as pine.

Recommending one or two into the city was no mountain.

Besides, a bearer of the Demon Hand was normal if they didn’t use it, like a sheathed blade.

Exiling Nana Toki to Mida Village was pageantry, a feather waved for the crowd.

She was still the king’s daughter; the king wasn’t ice clear through.

"If so, Miss Rock Sugar, why not send someone to fetch her?" Lorin found the crack like water finds a seam.

"I thought of it. But going to the capital for help takes too long."

"By the time aid returns, my friend’s odds are grim, like a candle in wind."

"Otherwise I’d have sent people already. I wouldn’t be asking you." She shrugged like a willow.

Lorin fell silent, dots gathering like rain on a window.

"How many days will you be away?" He weighed the trade like grain on a scale.

After a pause, he looked up. It didn’t feel like a losing bargain.

"At most half a month." With the System, finding the Nesting Phoenix wouldn’t take long.

"Then—" He started, words flapping like startled pigeons.

"It’s settled." She set down her cup and stood, eyes smiling like crescents.

"You watch Mida Village for half a month; I owe you a favor." Her tone was a seal pressed in wax.

"Are you leaving now?" Lorin froze as she fished coins from old jars, gold winking like fish scales.

"Not saying goodbye to the village?" he asked. "Those kids adore Miss Rock Sugar."

"Leaving without a word might feel rough, like frost on morning rice."

"I’m coming back, aren’t I? Don’t make such a fuss." She pocketed the coins like seeds.

"Watch the house. I’ll bring you some Marl Kingdom specialties." Her look flicked like a fan.

Lorin stared. Was he a pet, waiting for treats? The thought barked like a dog.

With the Protagonist Lord minding the house, Nana Toki left easy as a kite on a breeze.

Outside Mida Village, she aimed for the nearest town, eyes straight as a road.

There, a wagon ran for the Marl Kingdom’s border—a shortcut cut like a river.

At the town, she bought rations for the days ahead, simple as rice and salt.

She headed straight to the station, hunting a driver like a hawk for prey.

Drivers were there, but most wouldn’t take her. Her Demon Hand scared them stiff.

They dodged her like a god of pestilence, keeping distance like cold stars.

"Heading to the Marl Kingdom, miss?" A portly man slid from the shadows like oil.

"I’ve got a wagon that can take you." His voice oozed like syrup.

He wore round gold-rimmed glasses; his smile crawled like a lizard along a wall.

He leaned in, whispering, little bean eyes skittering over her like mice.

"Oh? You’ll take me?" Nana Toki’s mouth curved, a hook in still water.

"I’ve got a Demon Hand. Aren’t you afraid I’ll infect you?" Her right arm sat there, dark as stormwood.

"As long as you pay, I’ll get you there." Money flashed in his voice like sun on brass.

Her gaze cooled his back like a cave draft; sweat beaded on his brow like dew.

Still, he smiled that fawning merchant smile, grease piling like pork belly.

"We merchants value silver over life. So… what do you say?" His tone bowed like reed.

"Do you?" she said. "Good." Her answer dropped like a pebble in a pond.

"Then let’s go." She flicked him a gold coin, bright as a winter sun.

"Get me there, and I’ll pay." She jerked her chin; he led like a dog on a leash.

"No problem. I promise to deliver you." His grin swelled like dough.

He stared at the gold, delight blooming like a greasy flower.

He bobbed and scraped around her, cheeks folding like steamed buns.

"Right this way. I guarantee you’ll reach Marl territory in three days." His certainty thumped like a drum.

He brought her to a freight wagon. Inside were others, ragged as scarecrows.

They stank, a rot that curled like smoke; each one bore a brutal Demon Hand.

Even standing outside, Nana Toki felt her hairs rise like hedgehog spines.

"Can’t you arrange a cleaner wagon?" Her look turned sour as unripe plums.

"One gold and no conscience?" She stabbed him with words like chopsticks.

"Ay, Auntie, forgive me. This is already clean." He pleaded like a dog at a doorstep.

"See these folks? Like you, Hedon people with Demon Hands, heading to the martial Marl Kingdom to try their luck."

He whispered, "In all Hedon, only I run this route. Wagons never stop; hygiene is what it is. Please bear with it."

She said nothing and swallowed it for that Nesting Phoenix bastard, bitter as tea stems.

"Just get me there fast." She placed a foot on the step, a soldier in mind.

"If I sit too long, I’ll report you." Her warning cracked like flint.

"Rest easy. These are top-grade horses, and the drivers are old hands."

"We won’t waste your time." His promise was smooth as oiled leather.

He coaxed her aboard; the wagon shuddered out of town like a beetle.

Only then did he sigh, regret fluttering like a torn flag.

"Such a girl, cheap again for those bastards," he muttered, words sour as old wine.