The afterimage would stay in place, like a shadow pinned by moonlight?

It would take time to fade, like fog thinning under noon sun?

Then why didn’t the soldiers track that phantom to the boy, like hounds on frost?

Lucimia asked it aloud, her voice slipping like an arrow from a quiet bow.

The innkeeper waved it off, like brushing smoke.

"It shows only when he runs very fast, like sparks when steel scrapes."

"Usually he opens a gap, then runs normal again, like a wolf easing to a trot."

"So that’s how it is," Lucimia murmured, thoughts folding like paper cranes.

"Details, I don’t know," the innkeeper said, waving lazily like a fan in summer.

"Some say it’s some great magic, who knows, in this town few wield magic, like stars in thin clouds."

"Got it, thanks," Lucimia smiled, words light like falling petals.

She took the key and walked with Desty to room 203, like two swallows along a beam.

Passing the first floor, they saw merchant types whispering in the hall, like crows in a field.

The talk stopped when they saw Lucimia, then resumed after she passed, like a stream dammed and freed.

"Trade secrets?" Lucimia muttered, voice light like dust motes.

She thought nothing of it and opened the door, like lifting a curtain of rain.

The room’s layout came into view, like a small stage lit by dawn.

A curtained window stood there, like an eye behind silk.

Two beds with white bedding lay ready, like snowbanks in neat lines.

A bathroom waited, a table with two chairs, and a cabinet, like props set for travelers.

It looked complete enough, like a bento packed tight.

She sniffed the air; it was fresh, like wind through pine.

The bedding showed no stains; the cleaning was solid, like a swept courtyard.

Lucimia paused at the door, not entering, and turned to Desty, gaze stern like frost.

"Huh? What is it?" Desty scratched her head, like a puzzled cat.

Lucimia cleared her throat, folded her arms, and spoke, face solemn like stone.

"If you want this room, you must apologize for earlier, like laying down a debt."

"Eh..." Desty froze five seconds, like a rabbit under lantern light.

Then she understood which thing Lucimia meant, like a bell finally struck.

It was choosing the little girl over helping Lucimia, like picking one drowning hand.

Guilt pricked her, like thorns under skin, before she asked softly, "How do I apologize?"

She hadn’t known Lucimia had saved her, like a sleeper missing a storm.

She’d been unconscious, doubts fogging her like morning haze.

Then a little girl pleaded, and heat rushed her head like wildfire.

Thinking back, she felt truly sorry, shame heavy like a wet cloak.

"How do you apologize?" Lucimia’s eyes skimmed Desty, brows lifting like a drawn bow.

Her mouth curled, a wicked smile blooming like a fox’s grin.

Desty flinched two steps back, like waves retreating from a rock.

"W-what are you doing?" she asked, voice fluttering like a moth.

"What am I doing? Heh~" Lucimia stepped closer, like a cat padding toward yarn.

Desty backed again, but the corridor was narrow like a gully.

After two steps she hit the wall, no way out, like a deer at a cliff.

Lucimia stalled there and thought, mind pausing like a held breath.

Honestly, she hadn’t planned more; she just wanted to spook Desty, like flicking a forehead.

Give her a small lesson, like tapping a bell.

Lucimia eased back and said, voice calm like still water, "Use words.

Be sincere. Apologize to me," she finished, like sealing a letter.

"Okay..." Desty straightened, gathered herself like tied hair, and bowed.

"I’m sorry, truly sorry," she said, the words falling like stones.

"Good." Lucimia patted her shoulder, like dusting snow.

"I forgive you. I’m broad-minded, like the sea, and I never hold grudges."

"...Okay, thanks," Desty said, lifting her head slowly like dawn.

They finally had a calm place to rest, like a harbor after waves.

But Lucimia held back the urge to dive onto the bed, like reining a horse.

She slipped into the bathroom first to wash, like a fish into clear water.

She hadn’t expected a showerhead and real hot water, like spring in a stone house.

After a soothing bath, she lay on the bed to think, like a cloud on a hill.

In her ears, water from Desty’s bath flowed, like rain on eaves.

First, the goal, she told herself, the words settling like stakes.

She’d come to find a Time Ability User, like hunting a rare bird.

Then she’d contact followers of Elyssus, like lighting lanterns along a road.

If Jaha Town had none, she’d take a ship out, like a leaf on a tide.

She’d follow routes and seek the nearest believers, like tracing rivers to a lake.

If a Deceiver was elsewhere in the Bannubi Empire, she’d loop back, like a kite on a long string.

She kept saying she wanted to go home, like a mantra in wind.

But first, she’d handle these two tasks, like clearing stones from a path.

Time Ability Users and Deceivers were spread wide, like seeds on the wind.

It might force her to circle the world, like a swallow chasing spring.

Start with the Time Ability User in Jaha Town, she decided, like testing the nearest gate.

Current intel: blond boy, average build, likes to steal and rob, like a magpie with hands.

If he truly was a Time Ability User, what was his power, like the shape of an unseen current?

From descriptions, he could open tens or hundreds of meters fast, like lightning splitting clouds.

At first glance, that looked like Time Halt, like a clock nailed in place.

Pause others, then sprint away, like a hare through grass; maybe rules cap distance, like a leash.

It sounded fine, right, like a story that fits too neatly.

Back when Shebelle talked, Lucimia had thought that too, like a knee-jerk spark.

Now, lying safe on the bed, she saw a big hole, like a crack in ice.

If the boy had Time Halt, why not freeze time, steal calmly, then run, like a thief in snowfall?

Why risk a grab in motion and only then escape, like juggling knives in a crowd?

He could lift things without a sound and be unseen, like a cat in dusk.

He wouldn’t be wanted by town soldiers, hiding timidly somewhere, like a mouse under a jar.

He could stroll the streets openly, like a kingfisher along a reedbed.

Unless he was as dumb as Desty, which logic rejected, like a gate refusing a bent key.

And really, with Time Halt, doing only that was pathetic, like a dragon hoarding pebbles.

Besides, Lucimia suspected the inventor of the Storage Ring might be the true Time Halt, like a clockmaker holding time.

So she crossed Time Halt off first, like striking a name from bamboo slips.

Then what was it, like a knot hidden in rope?

Other time powers could move someone briefly, like eddies shifting leaves?

No, wrong approach, she told herself, like turning a boat before rocks.

She sat up on the bed’s edge and rethought, like a chess player before a new game.

First, list the types, like sorting grains from chaff.

The Authority Power of Spacetime should split cleanly, time and space, like two blades in one scabbard.

She imagined time-side abilities: Reversion, halt, acceleration, deceleration, time duplication, time splicing, like beads on a string.

Time duplication likely wasn’t pure time, like dye needing water; it probably tangled with space.

Say in one span you stabbed someone, then you duplicate that span, like copying a scene.

You could paste and replay it, but space must help, like a screen to show the cut.

"If you gain multiple time abilities, do they combine?" she mused, curiosity flickering like fireflies.

One has acceleration, another deceleration; combine them and you might control time’s flow, like a hand on a sluice.

Space could mean traversal, jumping to some time point, like stepping stones across a river.

That might need time’s help, and time might change after other gains, like metal tempered twice.

Okay, back to the golden-haired boy, like returning to the thread.

Time acceleration, like wind in his veins?

He could accelerate himself, leaving afterimages of different time nodes, like lanterns in a row.

Or he used space, stepping from one position to the next, like stones skipping water.

But that’s clumsy; why not jump farther, like a hawk riding thermals?

Maybe rules limit it, like reins on a horse.

"For now, time acceleration has the highest chance," Lucimia concluded, nodding like a judge with a seal.