But... come to think of it, was this her first time entering town with a stranger? She’d only gone twice before, and only with her father. Was this too bold of her?

Sitting in Fiore’s arms, she scratched her cheek awkwardly. The cool breeze brushed her face as she watched the river ripple beside the path, inhaled the scent of fresh grass, and felt the warm sunlight... It was as if she were truly *feeling* this world for the first time.

Lilithia’s gaze lingered on the scenery. In that moment, the truth struck her with crystal clarity: *She couldn’t go back.*

She held no real affection for anyone here. Seeking her "father" was purely practical—if something happened to him, it’d be troublesome.

Even now, she still couldn’t bring herself to call her parents "Mom" and "Dad."

*What a troublesome personality I have.*

She glanced down at her hands. Unlike a blacksmith’s, they were smooth—her dabbling in weak Life Magic for skincare had clearly paid off.

She hated admitting it, but this cute face *was* a weapon now. And honestly? She’d done a decent job maintaining it.

"You’re young, yet you carry yourself like an adult. To meet someone like you in such a small village... Truly, one must travel the world to broaden their horizons—"

"Lilithia."

"Hm?"

"I *have* a name. I remembered yours instantly, Lord Fiore. Yet you forgot mine? Didn’t that man back there call my name? Isn’t it rude to keep saying ‘you’ like that?"

Fiore paused, then chuckled sheepishly. "My apologies. That was indeed rude of me."

*Typical noble.* Wait—had she just overstepped? If this man wasn’t trustworthy, she’d walked straight into danger.

Still... he felt oddly different. His movements held no aristocratic pretense. Just ordinary gestures, yet radiating calm.

Like nothing—not even the sky collapsing—could rattle him.

*Fiore...* If he was this kind of person, he probably wasn’t using a fake name. Digging into that name might yield useful intel.

His purpose in this village likely wasn’t simple.

Just as Lilithia had thought earlier: a giant elephant’s casual step could be an avalanche to ants nearby. That was precisely why she’d latched onto him.

*The eye of the storm is always the calmest.* To avoid being crushed, she had to climb onto the elephant’s back. Only then could she stay safe—unless the beast itself fell.

She sensed something monumental was coming. That’s why she’d changed her payment terms, insisting he accompany her to town to find her father. Asking the villagers wouldn’t cut it anymore. Her instincts screamed that old methods would fail.

The glow from yesterday’s ornament still haunted her. And that magic inscription she couldn’t fully read? It set her nerves on edge.

*If something truly dangerous happens...*

Lilithia’s pulse quickened. Her skin warmed. She realized she might be stumbling into her first life-or-death crisis in this world.

Right now, she was just a blacksmith’s daughter. A nine-year-old girl who dabbled in trivial Life Magic.

Powerless. An ant in every sense.

*Should I turn back?*

"Lord Fiore, I just remembered something urgent. Could we head back? I deeply apologize for wasting your time, but... the forge at the shop—I forgot to extinguish it. If we don’t return soon, there might be a fire."

Fiore frowned, puzzled. Then he noticed the subtle tremor running through the girl in his arms.

A mischievous thought crossed his mind.

This Lilithia was fascinating. Earlier, she’d spoken like a middle-aged scholar, not a nine-year-old. Her words had even given *him* pause—

But now? Finally, she was acting her age.

He leaned close, his warm breath brushing her ear. "Are you... scared, Lilithia?"

"!"

A shiver shot down her spine. She nearly gasped, biting it back. Without turning, she stammered, "I-I’m not scared! I just believe some things require... careful consideration..."

"How adorable you are, Lilithia."

"!!!!"

Flushing crimson, she whipped her head around, glaring. "You bastard! So you *do* have a thing for underage girls, you creep! I trusted you! People like you deserve hell!"

She *was* adorable. Fiore couldn’t resist ruffling her hair with one hand.

"Don’t! Bastard! Do you think you’re some novel protagonist?! Stop casually touching girls—it’s suspicious! And you’re *riding*! Don’t do this while riding!"

She bristled like an angry kitten, grabbing his wrist to yank his hand away.

"Relax. I’ll protect you. If anything bad happens, I’ll keep you safe."

"Ugh!"

Lilithia fell silent.

*So he really is some kind of protagonist?!* Was she destined to become just another harem side character?

*Why not the heroine?*

*Please.* Since when did blacksmiths star as heroines?

Guys like him always had a childhood friend *and* a mysterious princess who appeared recently. She? She was clearly a side-quest NPC—maybe even his future harem fodder...

Time to test this theory. "Lord Fiore," she said calmly, stopping her struggle against his hand on her head.

*...Actually, this feels kinda nice.*

"Hm?"

"Don’t you have a childhood friend who’s always by your side? And recently—within the last year or two—didn’t you meet a woman who’s either a princess or something similar?"

Fiore’s hand froze on her head.

Lilithia felt the stiffness instantly. She looked up. His shocked expression confirmed everything.

*He’s totally a protagonist!*

SLAP! She slapped his hand away. *Danger averted.* She’d almost become his plaything. No wonder she’d felt so at ease around him—if he was a destined protagonist, that explained it. Damn it, she had no intention of getting married.

Besides, heroes like him were always oblivious in love. His future would be one giant harem drama. She had zero interest in fighting other women for his attention...

But if the "protagonist" was here, something major was about to happen.

*What now?*

This was exactly like a game: the hero arrives at a side-quest hub. She, the NPC, gives the "Find Lilithia’s Father" quest. Completing it would inevitably trigger a disaster—maybe a hidden organization? After a chain of missions (side or main), the reward would be... *+90 affection points with Lilithia. "Gift option unlocked."*

Poor Lilithia would then become a character whose affection meter rose with presents, waiting for scripted events based on the hero’s whims...

*Terrifying.*

Just imagining it made her scalp prickle. She *had* to avoid this fate. Why did she think Fiore was the protagonist?

*Hello?*

She was a *transmigrator*.

In transmigration stories, major encounters only involved two types: the big villain or another protagonist. That trope was practically law.

What reason did she have left to doubt he wasn’t the hero?

If this were the *real* blacksmith’s daughter Lilithia, she’d probably be blushing and snuggling into his chest right now.

*...Though honestly, the situation isn’t that different.*

*But this is a special horseback riding event. It doesn’t count toward affection points.*

The sun still bathed the earth in warmth. Grass blades stretched lazily under its glow, releasing fresh, earthy scents. A breeze carried coolness, yet failed to dispel the awkward tension thickening the air.

Fiore—this was likely the first time in his life someone had slapped his hand away. It was deeply rude. Even his sister hated having her head ruffled, always wearing a look of disgust... but she’d never *slapped* his hand.

*Did I upset her?*

Guilt prickling his chest, Fiore quietly guided the drake toward town.

Perhaps the world *was* as Lilithia cynically suspected—a place of cruel coincidences. The gears of fate had begun to turn, silently reshaping everything.