Boka stood speechless at the sight. Wolves of the highlands—creatures that made even fully armored armies give them a wide berth when they gathered—had just thrown themselves off a cliff in terror!

Helen was frozen in terror.

*Is this the Dragonfolk’s special ability?*

*Just how many secrets does this mysterious race hold?*

Come to think of it, this was still the capital city, not far from the royal palace. Why were such dangerous beasts roaming here?

“Probably some noble’s pet,” Lola said, unfastening a collar from the gray wolf’s neck and tossing it aside. “Look, even this.”

Boka had heard nobles with peculiar tastes kept wild beasts. But letting them loose at night? Utterly irresponsible. If Lola hadn’t been here… just him and Helen… the thought made his blood run cold.

Wolves preferred ambushes. They’d likely been tailing Boka’s group for a while. Lola had sensed them beforehand. His pride as a former hunter stung.

“What a hassle,” Lola grumbled. “Why did that old man Alva insist on coming to the capital?”

“What’s wrong?”

“This wasn’t a random attack.” Lola poked the wolf’s corpse. “There’s magic residue on them.”

*Magic…*

In this world, sorcerers were rarer than knight-captains of any nation. Duke Clar was the only mage Boka had ever seen—flames swallowing his own body whole.

“...What do you mean...”

“Probably aimed at me.” Lola shrugged. “Plenty despise our kind. Especially since we share your faith—some call us heretics.”

“So the wolves… were sent?”

“Seems so. Though they underestimated me.” Lola muttered to herself, “Can’t blame Alva, though. Without my consent, he wouldn’t have traveled all the way to Albion.”

“What should we do?”

If the enemy wielded magic, they weren’t ordinary foes.

“Next time I deliver medicine to the princess,” Lola said lightly, “I’ll request royal guards. Gill will agree.”

The Dragonfolk had already promised to heal Princess Mia. Asking King Gill for protection now? He’d leap at the chance.

Rumors were already swirling through the capital: the mysterious Dragonfolk treating the princess. King Gill had scoured the land for healers and alchemists for years, yet Mia’s condition never improved. Most citizens weren’t surprised he’d turn to Dragonfolk. But fanatics—those clinging to rigid beliefs—insisted the king was deceived by these “savages.” Just days ago, Alva’s group had stones thrown at them on the streets, shouts of “Get out!” ringing in their ears. Alva hadn’t flinched. Only an elderly woman clutching her child had slipped away silently.

“B-Brother Boka,” Helen tugged his sleeve, tears welling. “Let’s go. I’m scared.”

Raised in the countryside, she’d never seen wild beasts. Back home, the fiercest thing on the mountains was a wild boar.

“Right, let’s go,” Boka urged Lola.

Avoiding patrols, they took a detour back to Mire Street. Helen shivered violently in the cold. Boka finally draped his coat over her shoulders. Lola, clad in thin fabric as always, seemed immune to the chill—Dragonfolk didn’t fear cold.

Helen’s stomach growled loudly. She confessed she’d missed dinner, still adjusting to palace work.

They arrived home late, but the杂货铺’s lights were still on. As Boka stepped inside, someone hurried upstairs—Cynthia. Still angry, avoiding him, yet waiting downstairs for his return.

Aisha sat by the oil lamp, engrossed in a thick book.

Seeing Lola enter, Aisha’s face twisted in open hostility.

“What’s this?” Her tone accused Boka.

“Ran into her on the way.”

“Get her out.” Aisha snapped.

“T-That’s not right…”

Boka faltered under Aisha’s glare.

“Don’t be rude,” Helen gently patted Aisha’s head.

Aisha jerked away. “Don’t touch me!” She slammed the book shut with her maimed hand. “I refuse to see her.”

“Oh?” Lola grinned. “I’ll stay anyway.”

They’d clashed since their first meeting. Boka knew Aisha’s temper too well. Her right hand vanished into her pocket as she pointed at Lola with the other.

“You filthy—”

A hand landed on Aisha’s shoulder. She froze, turning to see Cynthia.

“Filthy what?”

“N-Nothing.” A cold sweat beaded on Aisha’s forehead.

In that instant, Cynthia’s presence cowed her completely. Only before Cynthia did Aisha shrink into an ordinary girl her age, stripped of all arrogance.

Cynthia’s gaze shifted to Helen.

“Hard day at work, Helen?” Her voice turned stern. “But it’s late. A girl shouldn’t linger in a man’s house at night.”

Boka remembered leftover rice. He’d planned to make fried rice for Helen’s hunger. Lola’s visit, however, was unexpected.

He served tea, leaves swirling in the cups.

After explaining to Cynthia, she nodded thoughtfully in her nightgown.

“I see. Leave it to me.”

She headed straight to the kitchen.

Boka exhaled. She hadn’t acknowledged him, but at least she wasn’t outright hostile.

“Brother Boka?”

“Hmm?”

“Does Sister Cynthia… always wear her nightgown at home?”

“Yeah, at night. Why?”

“Ah?” Helen blinked. “But you’re…”

“I’m what?” Boka asked blankly.

“N-Nothing!”

Winter had truly set in. With the second moon rising, twin stars hung in the sky, and bone-chilling cold seeped through every crack. The fireplace seemed feeble. Boka added more charcoal. Sipping hot tea by the fire should’ve been cozy, but Aisha’s glare at Lola thickened the air.

“Do you two know each other?” Boka finally asked.

Their feud felt deeper than a few days. Like old rivals.

“No.” Lola pressed a hand to her chest. “We’ve never met.”

Boka wanted to press further, but Aisha’s bared teeth silenced him. Whatever their history, Lola held a unique status among Dragonfolk. Even Chief Alva respected her—though she often called him “old man.”

Boka had asked Andrew about it days ago. Andrew explained: above the chief stood the Sainted Maiden, chosen once every two centuries through divination. Lola was she.

“You never left the forest lightly during Birth Festivals before,” Aisha challenged suddenly. “Why Albion this time?”

“Hmm… the divination led here.” Lola tapped her chin. “And… personal reasons. I wanted to find an old friend.”

“A friend?” Boka frowned.

“Yes. Last I heard, she came to the capital.”

Unlike other Dragonfolk, Lola’s nature made friendship plausible.

“When I was little,” Lola reminisced, “my mind was often a jumble. I wandered alone out of the forest… and was captured by slavers. Locked in a tiny room. Beaten. Starved.” Her voice softened. “That’s where I met her. She had such fierce eyes. She saved me. Soon after, my kin found me. I returned to the forest.”

“What happened to her?”

“We lost touch. But traveling bards told me she grew up.”

Listening, Boka felt his heart tighten.

“Did you find her?”

“In a way.”

“That’s great! Where is she?”

*Could it be Aisha?* But their ages didn’t match—six years apart.

Lola’s smile returned, tinged with sorrow.

“She’s gone.”

...

“Don’t dwell on it.” Lola’s voice was quiet. “It was her choice. I… might have foreseen it.”

Cynthia returned with fried rice.

“What were you discussing?”

“Nothing!” Helen chirped, eagerly taking the plate.

Carrots and onions mixed with the rice—Boka’s recipe, sautéed in butter for extra flavor. Cynthia’s cooking far surpassed his.

Helen sat close to Boka. Cynthia’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.

Helen clasped her hands, murmuring a quick prayer before devouring the food. Starving, she ate like it was midnight. Unlike Aisha’s savage table manners, watching Helen felt like having a little sister. Boka found it endearing.

Aisha still glared at Lola. Why had Lola even come inside? Was she provoking her?

Helen finished the plate clean as a washed dish, scraping the last grain into her mouth.

“So good!” She sighed loudly. “I wish I could eat this every day.”

“You—” Cynthia sputtered.

“Drink some tea.” Boka handed her a cup.

“Go home now,” Cynthia ordered, hands on hips. “Mr. Winston will worry.”

“Aww, can’t I stay a bit longer?” Helen pouted. “Uncle knows I’m here.”

“Bed. Now.” Cynthia’s tone brooked no argument. “You have work tomorrow. Don’t wake Dorin upstairs.”

“Okaaay…” Helen stood. “Brother Boka, I’m off!”

She grabbed the coat Boka had lent her and slipped it on. The oversized garment swallowed her whole.

“I’m cold, Brother Boka. Can I borrow this?” Helen shot Cynthia a sly, triumphant glance.

“Ah, sure.” Boka couldn’t refuse.

Lola left too. Both lived on Mire Street, Helen’s fruit stall just across the way. No need to escort them. Helen sprinted toward her shop, desperate for warmth.

Lola, however, stopped just outside the door.

“What’s wrong?” Boka called from the threshold.

“Boka.”

Lola turned. The clouds parted, moonlight spilling over her ashen face.

“Yes?”

“My friend… take me to see her. When you have time.”

“Huh?”

Boka didn’t understand. Why ask him?

Lola smiled that lonely smile again.

“Trena. My friend’s name. Please… take me to her.”