The guards doused the flames with dirt. They couldn’t let fires burn long into the night—not when lurking beasts might be drawn to the light. Though the guards feared no dim-witted, weak creature, unnecessary trouble was best avoided.

Night deepened. I lay in the carriage beside Violet, who slept curled against me. When I’d returned earlier, the tearful girl had already wiped her cheeks. Only faint redness around her eyes remained; otherwise, her face was calm.

The cabin was pitch-dark. Even the moonstone lantern had been put away. A sliver of pale moonlight slipped through a gap in the curtain, spilling across Violet’s face. It made her look all the more endearing. The image of her weeping by the fire was seared into my mind.

Perhaps I’d slept too much during the day. Or perhaps my thoughts were too tangled. Though night had fallen, sleep wouldn’t come. In the darkness, feeling the warmth of the sleeping girl beside me, strange emotions stirred in my chest.

The quiet night held only the whisper of wind and Violet’s soft breaths. Swallowed by shadows, I stared at the curtain glowing faintly in the moonlight.

I didn’t belong here. Yet this world was undeniably real. Whether I accepted it or not, I was here now.

Could I ever go back? But… did I even want to?

Confusion swallowed my thoughts. A wave of aimlessness crashed over me—I didn’t understand why I felt this way. How could I feel safer here than in my old world?

Then again… after Eunice killed me once, this second life felt like a true rebirth. This unfamiliar peace had drowned out the unease I’d carried before. Until it vanished completely.

Did everyone carry secrets like this?

I shook my head lightly, scattering the tangled thoughts. Closing my eyes, I waited for dawn.

I didn’t know when sleep finally took me. Darkness pulled me under…

***

One day later.

The caravan followed a shimmering river. Though not particularly wide, it was breathtaking. Sunlight danced on its surface, casting a soft blue radiance.

The water ran crystal-clear. Smooth, blue stones—larger than pebbles—lined the riverbed, filling the depths with an ethereal glow.

This was the Bluewater River. Older than Bluewater City itself, it gave the western imperial city its name.

Seeing it meant we were close.

Violet stretched lazily beside me, gazing at the distant blue ribbon of water. "Are we finally here? Sleeping in this carriage every night—I swear my bones feel like they’re coming apart." She turned, curiosity bright in her eyes. "Myra, what brings you and Aranthien to Bluewater City?"

"I’m not entirely sure," I said carefully. "My brother mentioned we need to heal Rosa first… our injured companion."

My heart clenched. I’d almost slipped and said *Rosalynd*.

Unlike ordinary knights, Order Knights of Avaria were widely known. Whenever the Radiant Order shifted—when a newcomer defeated a veteran to claim a rank—fresh lists would spread through every street and alley. Such fame was craved by Avaria’s knights. Glory didn’t just intoxicate; it brought power and wealth beyond measure.

Rosalynd held the thirteenth seat in the Radiant Order. A stunning young knight, she was the Arnold Clan’s brightest star. Her name was more famous than those ranked above her.

That’s why I couldn’t risk her name slipping out. If Violet let it slip—or if a guard overheard—it could bring serious trouble. Eunice had warned me: guard Rosalynd’s identity fiercely.

When I’d asked Eunice how to handle questions about her name, she’d shrugged. "Make something up."

I’d nearly flipped a table then. (Though there was no table in sight. I just needed to flip *something*.)

Now, seeing Violet’s curiosity sharpen, I knew the question was coming.

"The injured companion? The silver-haired lady?"

"Yeah," I nodded.

"She’s been unconscious so long… not eating. Is she in danger?"

I hesitated. "She needs treatment soon. But she should hold on until Bluewater City." Knights’ bodies were far tougher than ordinary humans’.

The carriage rolled smoothly onward. Violet’s worry faded, replaced by a smile. "Good. Myra… what’s her name?"

Here it was. Thank goodness I’d prepared.

"Rosa. An old friend from childhood."

…Honestly, I was rather clever. Trimming "Rosalynd" to "Rosa" gave a new name—simple, memorable, and meaningful. A pseudonym that still held truth.