Pan Continent actually has its own New Year.

People need festivals to spice up life and recharge. So, any place with a proper calendar usually has plenty of holidays.

At the turn of the old year into the new… humans, Elves, even dragons—all paused their work to welcome this hard-won celebration.

Kankel, the adventurers’ capital, was no exception.

Streets glittered with lanterns and streamers. Crowds surged. Though lacking the deafening gongs and firecrackers from Lyselle’s memories, the scene was still bustling.

Adventurers from every nation and race brought flavors of home: dances, fireworks, rich or flamboyant singing styles. Some enterprising souls even pushed carts selling exotic street food.

Lyselle, who’d joined the Brave Squad just a year and a half ago, hummed a tune. Wrapped in a thick cloak, she carried a basket through the throng, heading home.

Many adventurers spotted Kankel’s beloved Priestess. They waved greetings. Those she’d helped before eagerly stuffed her basket with gifts.

Pastries, cakes, meat pies, roasted meats… even trinkets like hand puppets and rattles.

Her basket had held only a few vegetables. But by the time she left the crowd, it overflowed. With her puny strength, she needed both hands just to carry it.

Even then, it wore her out.

Luckily, someone volunteered to take the basket near her home.

Shall.

He and she were the only two in the Brave Squad not returning home for the holiday.

Warrior Joseph, assassin Siri, and mage Godo had all left Kankel. They wouldn’t return until after New Year’s.

So, for once, the Brave Squad had shrunk to just Lyselle and Shall.

Lyselle hadn’t gone back to the White Tower or Forest Sea partly because the Old Sage was too busy to bother with her. And partly because…

“You again? Broke enough to skip meals?” Lyselle asked, her tone dripping with disdain.

She’d hit the nail on the head. Shall, trailing behind with the basket, wore a guilty expression.

Lyselle sighed. “Seriously,” she muttered, “how do you manage to be Champion and still starve?”

The Champion had his defense ready:

“Many adventurers in Kankel barely have clothes or food. They can’t celebrate happily…”

“So,” Lyselle cut him off, eyebrows raised, “you helped them like always. And now you’re penniless again. Can’t even afford dinner?”

She glared up at him, radiating authority despite being a head shorter. She looked like his scolding mother.

Since she spoke truth, Shall had no reply. He just scratched his head and grinned sheepishly.

He looked humble and pitiful—like a stray dog abandoned on the streets.

Shall often showed up like this to mooch meals from Lyselle.

Mostly because he overestimated his ability to help others, forgetting himself entirely.

Every time, Lyselle would “accidentally” meet him outside her door—like some tragic hero from a storybook.

Today was no different.

She’d almost gotten used to it… though that habit was hardly healthy. No matter how many times she warned him—helping others was fine, but don’t starve yourself—he’d still appear later, flashing that awkward yet polite smile.

At first, she’d scold him. Now, she’d resigned herself to respecting his choices.

If Shall was this clueless, why fight it?

But today was different.

How?

Lyselle snorted softly, pushing open her door. “Even I, just a Priestess, got showered with food on the streets. You’re the living Champion. With your fame, you could rob shops and they’d probably hand over goods with a smile.”

She paused, turned, and snatched the basket from Shall without meeting his eyes.

“Walk around town once, and your arms would be full of food. You don’t lack meals. So why mooch off me tonight?”

She already knew the answer before he spoke.

—Because he had nowhere else to go.

Shall never mentioned family or hometown to his teammates. But the Brave Squad weren’t fools. They’d pieced it together from this silence:

Shall likely had no family left in this world.

On this day of family reunions, the lone Champion had no home.

He could only come to her—the one person in Kankel he truly knew.

Lyselle understood this perfectly. Yet Shall just scratched his head again. His lips moved, struggling to form words, but nothing came out.

“Tch,” Lyselle muttered under her breath, “idiot.”

Her voice was too soft. Shall blinked. “Huh?”

She shot him a glare, hefted the heavy basket with both hands, and sighed.

“Stupid to death… Follow me.”

She walked inside, basket in tow.

Shall still didn’t grasp why she’d dropped the question or ordered him to follow.

But none of that mattered now. What mattered was he finally had a place to go. Someone to spend New Year’s with.

So he trailed after Lyselle like a happy stray dog, remembering to shut the door behind him.

Click—

The wooden door closed like a loyal guard, locking out the cold.

Lyselle set the basket on the table. She pulled out her Magic Wand and lit the room’s magical Lantern.

Warm, golden light flooded the space, banishing darkness and turning the chilly house into a cozy home.

Kankel had seen heavy snow days ago. Now, melting ice brought biting cold. Lyselle hadn’t used warming spells while shopping. Her cheeks and hands were flushed red, nearly numb.

“This damn weather… freezing my bones off…” she grumbled, rubbing her hands.

Shall, behind her, instinctively glanced at his own large, warm palms. He almost blurted, “Want me to warm them for you?”

But he held back. Even if she asked, he wouldn’t dare touch her small, soft hands.

That’s how a pure-hearted virgin acts.

Instead, he silently went to the fireplace. He gathered kindling, lit a fire, then added thicker logs once flames roared.

Lyselle’s only response was a soft snort.

“Hmph.”

Short. Ambiguous. Praise or complaint? Unclear.

She began unpacking the basket.

Comb, hand puppet, odd-looking necklace, meat, ginger, flour…

Shall finished with the fireplace and joined her.

For each item she pulled out, he sorted it neatly: flowers in a vase, comb and necklace in the dresser drawer, the cute hand puppet on the windowsill beside the vase…

The groceries he carried straight to the kitchen.

He moved like a seasoned butler—efficient, professional.

Only he knew he worked so hard to avoid the awkwardness of being alone with her.

But he finished too quickly. He looked up, searching for more tasks.

And saw Lyselle tying an apron, ready for the kitchen.

Sometime during this, she’d shed her cloak. Her soft golden hair was tied back in a neat ponytail with a handkerchief.

From Shall’s angle, he saw her pale neck, the faint down on her illuminated cheeks, her delicate earlobe, and her focused, adorable expression.

She stood by the fireplace, turning slightly to tie the apron strings. Firelight outlined her figure, bright and warm.

She looked… like the perfect homemaker.

Shall froze, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.

Lyselle noticed he was free. Casually, she called over her shoulder:

“This apron won’t tie right… Help me, will you?”

Her voice was sweet, almost coquettish.

Shall moved like a man bewitched, stumbling toward her on unsteady feet. He tied the apron behind her back, surrounded by the rich scent of golden roses.

But Lyselle didn’t thank him.

Instead, she spun around, hands on hips, and bragged:

“Haha! Don’t I look cute in this apron, bro?”

“…”

Shall averted his eyes, wisely staying silent.

Lyselle stepped closer, nearly pressing against him.

“What?” she teased, mischief in her eyes. “Am I not cute?”

Finally, under pressure, Shall stammered out, “Cute…”

Lyselle beamed, satisfied.

“Come on,” she beckoned Shall. “Kitchen with me…”

“We’re gonna—make! jiaozi!”

[To be continued]