Lilithia settled back into her seat. Leaving a young girl like her to return to the village alone? Absolutely not. Any reckless move on his part would only backfire.
Mephas had sought him out—he had a rough idea why. Fiore’s sudden shift in attitude must have shocked her. That proud heart likely burned with questions: *Who is this person? I couldn’t change him—why did they?*
His little performance earlier should’ve shaken her. No matter how refined her noble upbringing, no matter how skilled in magic, she was still just a teenage girl. He’d lived two lifetimes. A mere child—*the* type of character doomed to lose in every story he’d ever read—hah!
Just basic moves. Nothing to six over.
Now, he only needed to wait for Fiore to bring his father here.
She stayed in the library, studying diligently until closing time. The bright sky had turned pitch black. Stepping outside, she shivered.
Where was Fiore?
Where was Mephas?
Where was her father in this world?
She stared blankly at the street. Unlike her old world, this one had no vibrant nightlife. Darkness swallowed everything, broken only by sparse magelight lamps flickering along the road.
"So cold."
Hugging her arms, she felt her body temperature drop. Staying here longer would surely make her sick. Something must have gone wrong—perhaps Fiore got tangled in another incident. She calmly weighed the possibilities.
*Find shelter first.*
*Ugh, this dictionary is heavy. After a whole day, I’ve only memorized a few dozen words… But language gets easier with practice. The start’s always hardest. At least I have some foundation. With enough effort, I’ll master it.*
She wandered the empty streets. Her remaining coins might cover two nights at an inn. Would she end up homeless? Maybe find work at a blacksmith’s—low pay, just room and board…
Walking through the darkness, Lilithia suddenly stopped.
She lifted her head, scanning the shadows.
"You’re there. Fiore. Mephas."
She recalled Mephas’s shadow-concealing magic from their first meeting. If something truly disastrous had happened, this town would be in chaos. The eerie calm meant only one thing—Mephas had silenced the news.
From the inky blackness, two figures emerged: fiery red hair, gleaming gold hair. Under the dim magelight, they stepped forward.
Lilithia fell silent.
Her crimson eyes were half-hidden in shadow. After a long pause, her voice cut through the quiet:
"So… an accident happened?"
"Is he dead? Or missing?"
"Most likely… the former."
She gasped for air. The world felt thin, suffocating. She’d known the truth the moment she saw them step from the shadows.
*This role I’ve been given… it carries deeper pain. Maybe… I’ll even become a villain later? This worldline…*
Her vision blurred.
*I thought I wouldn’t care. Three years in this world… that man with the hammer—my father here—is gone.*
She’d never called him "Dad." But she’d respected that ordinary man. Weak in magic, not the sharpest mind—but a father who truly cared. He’d taught her smithing, worked hard, faced life bravely.
*My fault.*
She understood that now. Her "mature" decision had led to this. If she hadn’t stopped Fiore earlier, if he’d acted then—maybe her father would still—
*Why does it hurt so much? I’m not even from this world.*
*My choice was "right," yet I regret it.*
*I shouldn’t expect heroes… but I still wanted a happy ending.*
*This is reality. No matter how much it resembles those perfect stories, choices have consequences. No branching paths. Only regret for the path taken.*
Lilithia finally understood.
Beneath the magelight, she lifted her head.
"Then tell me, Fiore—the enemy’s true face."
Both Fiore and Mephas were struck silent. Because Lilithia was smiling.
Tears still streamed down her cheeks. How could she smile? How could she cry? Her voice held a resolve neither teenager could fathom—a depth of feeling beyond their years.
They only knew: something momentous was beginning.
"Demons."
Fiore’s answer hung in the air. Lilithia said nothing. She doubted that conclusion—but—
She turned away. "Fiore. As promised, you’ll teach me swordsmanship. Correct?"
She choked back emotion. "Lord Mephas—I need to borrow Fiore for a while. No objections? It won’t be long."
Who could refuse such a girl? Not Mephas. "Granted."
Fiore silently fell in step behind her.
They walked farther into the night.
"Fiore." Lilithia’s voice was sudden. "If I hadn’t stopped you today… could you have saved my father before it happened?"
She’d realized it: to Demons, humans captured by dark means were disposable. They never intended to take captives alive. Every delayed moment meant more deaths.
Including her father’s.
"Lilithia…"
"Don’t comfort me." Her voice was eerily calm despite the storm inside. "If we must assign blame—Fiore, neither of us is at fault. Only the Demons are guilty. We simply… missed our chance. And regret it."
*Your face doesn’t look like mere regret.*
Lilithia was mature—too mature for a child. Her thoughts ran deeper than Fiore’s. Yet she was still a girl. No matter how profound her reasoning, her heart surged with raw feeling.
Fiore dropped to one knee. From behind, he wrapped his arms around her.
Lilithia froze. "Hugging a nine-year-old from behind? People will call you a creep."
Her words were sharp, but Fiore felt his sleeves grow damp with her tears.
"I’m sorry." *For failing to save him.*
"Don’t apologize." *It’s my weakness.*
"Cry." *I’ll protect you.*
"I won’t—" *I’ll face this alone—*
But even Lilithia couldn’t hold back. She buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably. In the silent street, a girl’s grief echoed under the night sky.
Mephas raised a hand. Golden ripples spread, sealing away the sound.
It was all she could do.
The Demon band had been captured—but they’d fought to the death. Not one survived. Perhaps they’d never planned to leave human lands alive. Their goal was already achieved.
*My failure.*
She’d come to this town seeking Fiore, yet missed the darkness festering beneath its surface—
A nine-year-old’s strength has limits. Exhausted by grief, Lilithia finally succumbed to sleep in Fiore’s arms.
He lifted her gently. "Thank you."
"No. Comfort her well. Harder trials await, don’t they?"
Yes. Fiore would have to take Lilithia home, tell her mother the terrible news. But first—let her sleep.
"Fiore… we’re not strong enough."
Mephas’s voice was quiet. "If I were a Sage, I’d have sensed the Demons the moment I entered this town. If you were a Sword Saint, you could have erased them all unseen that first night you two sneaked in. But we’re not."
"I know, Mephas. I’ve never hated my weakness this much. Never craved strength like this." He looked down at the sleeping girl.
Leaning close to her ear, he whispered: "I swear to you, Lilithia—as you vowed never to lie to me, I vow never to let sorrow touch your face again. By my name, Fiore: call for me from your heart, and I will come."
"Now. Let’s go."
He held Lilithia close and vanished into the night.
