“Oh, right—did you come out here alone? Where are your parents? Don’t tell me you snuck out?” Vittor halted mid-swing, steel humming like a silenced bell.

“Um…” Lucimia’s courage fluttered like trapped sparrows, then stilled on her tongue.

Bang—the front door crashed open again, a drumbeat shaking dust like startled moths.

“Jeez, what is it today? Can’t anyone just push… the door…” Vittor had just shouldered the greatblade to vent his temper, then froze like a statue in rain.

In walked a woman in a green robe, a flowered basket swinging like spring itself. A flock of kids swirled around her, chirping like sparrows.

Vittor reacted fast. With a flick, the blade clanged into the counter, metal singing like pots in a kitchen. His rogue grin melted into a kindly smile, sunny after a storm.

The river-smooth switch left Lucimia blinking, wonder rippling like light on water.

The kids spotted Vittor and rushed him, feet pattering like rain on tiles.

One boy flung himself into his arms, wings-wide. “Uncle Vittor! Aunt Julie brought us—do we get treats again?”

Vittor’s face bloomed with smiles. He hugged the boy, warmth like a hearth. “Heh, of course. I’ve been ready.”

“Great! Thanks, Uncle Vittor, you’re the best!”

“Thank you, Uncle Vittor!” the others echoed, voices braided like ribbons.

“Hahaha, no need to thank me. Your smiles are enough.” He spoke and ruffled a nearby head, hair soft as new wheat.

The green-robed woman came over, step gentle as dew. “Vittor, thank you. Without you, no one would know what to do with these kids,” Julie said, gratitude bright as a lantern.

“Don’t thank me—thank the Lancelot Family. It was a family decision to help where we can. Look, even the Lancelot young lady’s here.” He nudged Lucimia from behind him, a leaf pushed into sunlight.

“Ah, I didn’t expect the young lady to be here. I thank you on the children’s behalf.” Julie bowed, grace like bending bamboo. “Come on, kids, thank this big sister.”

Several innocent eyes turned to Lucimia, clear as morning pools.

“Thank you, big sister!”

“Ah, no need,” Lucimia said, waving a hand like a drifting petal.

“How could we not? We’ve received much help from the Lancelot Family. Here, take this flower—it just opened today.” Julie’s warmth spilled like tea, and she lifted a white bloom with pale green-edged petals, snow kissed by jade.

She snapped the stem halfway and tucked the rest into Lucimia’s hair, a moon pinned to a cloud.

“Mhm, the young lady is truly lovely,” Julie said, her smile soft as silk.

“T-thank you.” Shy heat rose like a blush of dawn. Lucimia started to scratch her head, then lowered her hand, careful of the new flower.

She knew this woman. Not of the Lancelot Family, but Vittor’s friend. She ran a flower shop, heart wide as a field, sheltering many orphans.

Because the Lancelot Family exists to drive out evil, they don’t sneer at commoners like other nobles. Instead, they help, hands steady as oaks.

They even provide housing for these children. That kindness builds their name like stones in a good wall.

“Come, come—today’s share.” Vittor hauled a crate from the storeroom, wooden sides creaking like a boat at the dock.

Bread, cakes, vegetables, meats—plenty, generous as autumn harvest.

He set the crate down. The kids surged forward, a small tide breaking at the shore, little hands like fish slipping in.

Soon each held a bread and a cake, eating with gusto, crumbs freckling their cheeks like stars.

“Lucimia, you try one too?” Vittor offered a delicate cake crowned with a strawberry, red as a drop of sunset.

“Thank you.” She took it and breathed in, fragrance rising like steam from fresh tea.

She nibbled. It was cloud-soft, sweetness lingering on her tongue like spring rain. Two bites, and the cake was gone, vanished like a dream.

She stood aside, watching kids munching with crumb-dusted smiles. Vittor and Julie watched them too, eyes curved like crescent moons.

A warm scene, hearthlight behind paper screens. She liked that peace, a quiet pond in her chest.

Well, the trouble’s solved, food tasted. While they’re distracted, slip away like a cat at dusk.

She turned and reached for the door, but Vittor spotted her, gaze sharp as a hawk.

“Wait, wait—you still haven’t answered me. Did you sneak out alone?” He hurried to the wooden door and blocked her, solid as a gate.

“I…” Reluctance pooled first, heavy as rain, then words struggled up like reeds.

“It’s dangerous out there alone. How about I walk you back?” Concern rang in his voice, a bell in mist.

But Lucimia didn’t want to return yet. She needed to search for things about the Dark Deity. A thought flickered like a fox’s tail. Time to act.

“No need, thank you, Uncle Vittor. My parents sent me to buy things. Said it’s to train me a bit.” Lucimia looked up, innocence bright as glass. She thought the act was flawless.

“Really?” He still seemed unsure. He crouched, stroking his chin, pondering like a cat. “What did they ask you to buy?”

“They said to buy whatever I like to eat! It’s just practice, after all.”

She spoke without a hitch, smooth as a stream, and Vittor couldn’t see a seam in it.

“I see.” He stood, doubt still shadowing him. Then his eyes lit like struck flint. “Lucimia, how about a story? You can go after that.”

A story? Why now? She didn’t want to lose time; the bookstore beckoned like a beacon.

Her thoughts tangled for a beat, a kite caught in a tree.

“What? Uncle Vittor’s telling a story?” the boy nearby had overheard, excitement popping like firecrackers.

“Uncle Vittor’s telling a story!” he shouted.

The kids set down their cakes at once. They clustered in threes and twos, circling Vittor and Lucimia like stars around a moon.

“I want to listen!”

“Me too!”

Kids loved stories; their eyes shone like wet stones.

“Alright, alright, everyone can listen. And you, Lucimia? Decided?” Vittor asked.

Since she’d started acting, she might as well play the full scene. Lucimia nodded. “Mm, I’ll listen too.”

“Good.” Vittor smiled. Then his face shifted, mystery drifting in like fog. He lowered his voice, a lantern dimmed.

“Legend says a dreadful Dark Deity walks this continent, named Elyssus. His Authority Power is Disguise and Deception. His believers can become the faces beside you…”

“And then? And then?” a boy blurted, words tumbling like marbles.

“Don’t interrupt Uncle Vittor,” a girl chided, tapping him like a sparrow peck.

“Easy, easy. We need the setup.” Vittor soothed them, then went on, voice threading like a story-string.

“The way these believers work is by Devouring another’s soul. They squeeze into the victim’s body and walk our human streets wearing that skin.”

“They come out around two in the morning, hunting the lone and unwary. They Devour the soul, take the body, then go home like nothing happened, talking with the spouse and children as usual.”

“But that normal doesn’t last. Once they get a chance, they’ll Devour the wife and the children too, replacing the whole family. We call these believers the Deceivers.”

“So the ones beside us might be Deceivers in disguise. One day, they might Devour you. The lesson is simple: go home early. Don’t linger outside.”

When he finished, the kids stared at one another, doubt crawling like ants. Suspicion flickered like thin flames.

Some whispered to friends, “Let’s not stay out too late,” words like little knots in the wind. Vittor heard and felt satisfied, a plan landing.

“Uncle Vittor, can a Deceiver be recognized?” the same boy asked, hand raised like a sprout.

“Mm, good question.” Vittor nodded. “Sadly, they’re called Deceivers because you can’t. In the legends, even the Church’s Purification can’t expose them. The skin they wear is honest human flesh, with no taint to smell.”

“And that isn’t their only trick. There are many: duplication, replacement, illusion—their Authority Power holds Deception as well.”

“Even the Church can’t find them?” The boy’s shock rang like a snapped string.

The kids gasped, worry spreading like ink in water.

“If a Deceiver can’t be seen through, then how did the legend begin? Who knows about a Dark Deity like Elyssus? And… do books write about him?” Lucimia asked.

Curiosity rose first, bright as a candle, then the words followed. Legends of Dark Deities meant new knowledge to grasp. What hooked her most was an Authority Power even the Church couldn’t see. That might become a bridge over her storm.

Vittor looked at her and shook his head, regret soft as ash. “Books do mention him. As for who first knew… I don’t know. A legend is what it is.”

He stood and clapped his hands, dust puffing like flour. “Maybe it’s all fake. No one’s ever seen them for real. Another saying is they’ve always been here, only we can’t perceive them. Maybe the ones beside us are Deceivers. Maybe your friend, the guards, the Church—even the king. Maybe they’ve already been replaced.”

The more he spoke, the more the children shrank, curling into corners like snails to shells.

“Waaah—” One little girl burst into tears, fear spilling like a broken jar.

“Ah…” Vittor hadn’t expected that. He’d tweaked the tale to send kids home early, safe as chicks under wings.

Julie had been listening. When the crying started, she tapped his back with a small scold, light as a fan. “You scared them.”

“Alright, alright, my bad.” Vittor scooped up the sobbing girl, patting her back like a drumbeat. He whispered that it was fake, just a trick, until her crying faded to hiccups.

Seeing there was no more to gain, Lucimia took her leave with a wave, a leaf riding the breeze.

As she went, Vittor kept reminding her to go home early. Lucimia answered sweetly, voice like a bell in dusk.