Time flew. Lilithia gained a small fortune—Mephas, that tsundere girl, showed unexpected tenderness in subtle ways. She’d quietly provided Lilithia’s mother with financial aid.
The sum was substantial for a village family, yet not life-changing.
Then, the month’s end arrived.
"Lilithia, I’m leaving."
Fiore finally resolved to depart the village. Honestly, Lilithia’s charm made him want to stay forever. But her rapidly improving swordsmanship whispered otherwise—this girl, though still weak, chased after him without hesitation.
He studied her with conflicted eyes. "Lilithia, I’m glad you’ve progressed in swordsmanship. But… you should reconsider if this path truly suits you."
Lilithia’s expression turned knowing. "So I have no talent for it, right?"
"Yes." Fiore admitted it. Lilithia grasped sword techniques and theories effortlessly. She trained relentlessly. Yet her instincts in sudden combat were sluggish, stiff.
A fatal flaw for a swordsman.
She simply wasn’t meant to wield a blade.
Lilithia understood this too. She shrugged lightly. "Fiore, even if I’ll never be a master, this skill protects me. I’m no helpless girl. Against villagers? I hold my own. That’s enough."
Indeed. She always saw herself clearly.
"Then I’m at ease."
He gazed at her, words hovering on his lips. He turned away instead.
"Hey!" Lilithia called after him. "If you’ve got something to say, say it now. Later might be too late."
Footsteps approached from behind. Lilithia closed the distance again.
"If you’re planning to confess before leaving… I might just say yes. How about one night together?"
Fiore clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to turn and flick her forehead. He strode on without looking back.
"Tch!" Lilithia knew he wouldn’t abandon her. "A convenient girl right here, and you’d just walk away? Fine. Compromise!"
She grabbed the hem of his cloak from behind.
Fiore finally turned.
Lilithia’s crimson eyes burned like embers. "Wait for me! Don’t get cocky! I’ll find you someday. Until then—no, forget it."
A tender smile finally touched Fiore’s lips. He ruffled her hair. "I’ll wait. Catching up to me won’t be easy."
The man waved, fading into the distance.
Lilithia watched until he vanished.
She returned to her room. Her mother was shallow—Lilithia knew she’d been meeting men lately. The money helped, but raising a child alone weighed heavily on a single woman.
Still…
Lilithia flopped onto her bed. Staring at her pillow, she blinked. Why did that ordinary cushion look like Fiore’s infuriating, punchable grin?
She slammed her fist into it.
*Damn Fiore. Could he actually like me? How troublesome. I’m clearly a side character—maybe even #7 or #8. Let’s count: childhood friend, Holy Maiden, Mephas… that’s three already. With this genre’s tropes, there’ll be a monk, a Sage, the Hero, the Demon King…*
*Eighth place? What if there’s an elven archer or the Demon King’s Four Generals too?*
*Damn it!*
The pillow crumpled under her fist. She hugged it apologetically, then squeezed it tight again.
*What am I even agonizing over?*
*Who wouldn’t fall for that man? Even other men would follow him willingly. Is this… liking him?*
Lilithia didn’t know. As a man once, she’d felt fleeting attractions in school. She had to admit—her feelings for Fiore ran deep.
Why else would she promise *not to lie to him*?
If he ever demanded… she’d have no choice but to obey.
But she refused to be his shadow.
Deeper still: she couldn’t ignore her true self to play the "blacksmith’s daughter." She loved forging, yet refused to be confined by it.
*Because I was a man once.* That truth couldn’t be erased. Fiore might comfort her if she confessed…
*But that path leads to a dead end.*
Telling him would shift her from "harem candidate" to "close friend." Logical. Safe.
Yet the thought sparked a tearing pain in her chest. She didn’t want that ending.
*I won’t lie. But if he doesn’t ask… I won’t tell.*
*Someday, when I’m strong enough to stand beside him, I’ll say it plainly: "I was a man. Now I’m a woman. I love you. Reject me if you wish—but we remain friends. If another hurts you, come to me. I’ll comfort you."*
Her male pride forbade dependence. She’d stand equal to him. Fight beside him. Laugh freely. Not like now, where he held back during sparring to avoid hurting her.
Her father’s fate had carved her helplessness into her bones.
Perhaps being a man once granted her a clarity most women lacked.
Until she gained true strength—until she stood level with Fiore—she’d keep her secret locked away.
…
The girl rolled across her bed three times before sitting up, resolve hardening.
She headed to the forge. Skills meant survival. Her future might well be shaped here.
---
Fiore walked the wide road, palm open. Resting there was the pendant Lilithia had repaired—his mother’s gift.
He recalled the dark magic inscribed on it. Where had his mother learned such spells? Lilithia must have deciphered it by now.
*She’s so clever. She’d tell me if I asked… but she’s holding something back.*
He tucked the pendant away, eyes sharpening.
*Demonfolk.*
He couldn’t save Lilithia’s father. So he’d grow stronger. Once, he’d ignored the Demon King’s Army—let the Hero’s party handle it. Tulip Kingdom lay far from demon lands. He’d only fought them during past training stints on battlefields.
Now? He’d purge every demon from Tulip Kingdom.
---
"So *this* is why you barged into the women’s bath?" Mephas glared, ice in her voice.
Fiore froze. "Wait! Let me explain! Mephas, who sets up perception-blocking wards *while bathing*? Ordinary people can’t sense them. For me, it dulls my danger instincts. The ward was weak—I walked in without thinking!"
He saw her huddled in the bathwater, one hand shielding herself, the other crackling with a massive fireball.
…
He spun and ran.
"**Rage of the Fire God!**"
"Are you insane?! That spell’s overkill!!!"
Fiore drew his sword. Heat seared his skin as he deflected the blazing orb skyward. It exploded like fireworks.
Mephas emerged fully armored, wand raised, face flushed with fury.
Fiore kept running.
*This is my daily life,* he sighed inwardly, remembering a silver-haired, crimson-eyed girl.
*She’d have listened to my explanation…*
He glanced back at Mephas’s crimson-cheeked rage, recalling Lilithia’s words:
*"It’s because those girls imagine filthy things too."*
—*Impossible to tell.* Fiore’s disgust deepened. *Did I do wrong?*
But Mephas wouldn’t calm without an apology.
He stopped abruptly, facing her.
"I apologize for my intrusion. How can I make amends?"
*Being with Lilithia… was far more peaceful.*
