After a day of rest, Caro once again shared the stories she’d written with everyone—though to the elders, these were memories from their own youth. She had simply woven them together with a touch of artistic refinement.

She kept only one original copy. Paper was costly, and Caro couldn’t afford duplicates. Papermaking? She had no time for that.

Truth be told, advancing the world’s industry wasn’t a Bard’s duty. She wasn’t that grand a person. Driving change meant risk and responsibility—neither of which she desired. That was all.

Soon after, she bid farewell to Maelzu Town.

She set off before dawn, darkness swallowing the world. Harp and luggage slung over her shoulder, she walked slowly toward the gate. In towns like this, only the entrance glowed with a dedicated magic lamp—a quiet declaration of existence.

Arnold was already leaning against the wall, clearly waiting.

“Aren’t you saying goodbye to the villagers?”

“No need. I left my poems and stories behind. As long as they remember, I’ll always be here.” In the pre-dawn gloom, the girl sounded effortlessly free.

She wasn’t without affection for Maelzu Town. But she yearned for wider horizons—magnificent, mysterious vistas. She would never linger long. Heart full of anticipation, she stepped onto a new path.

“What’s Dermal City like?” Caro asked as they walked. “If you have contacts there, your squad must’ve stayed awhile, right?”

Arnold’s steps faltered slightly. Ahead of her, face hidden in the dark, he replied, “The Ancient Spirit Tree is wondrous. Even now, demons scheme to claim it—but success? That’s another matter.”

“Does it have special powers?” Caro’s curiosity sparked.

Arnold opened his mouth—

“Don’t tell me! I want to see it myself! Spoiling it would ruin half the fun of Dermal City.” She reined in her curiosity with a grin. *She savors the best bites for last,* Arnold noted silently.

He glanced at her harp. “Ever consider switching instruments? Your playing’s lovely, but the enchantment’s fading. Reapplying magic costs a mage—and coin.”

Caro sighed. “Nah. I’ve always felt… fate. When I chose this harp, I wasn’t even keen on it. Yet somehow… I picked it. Like something guided me.”

“…Doesn’t talk of ‘fate’ bother you?” Arnold walked ahead, frowning.

*He’s the “I command my own destiny” type,* Caro mused. *Makes sense—for someone who always wins, always overcomes. If I were that strong, I’d probably be even cockier.*

She pondered his words, then answered softly, “Bothered? Not at all. I think fate… is beautiful. And romantic.”

“Beautiful… and romantic?”

Arnold turned the words over. Then Caro continued, playful:

“Like our meeting! On the day I awakened my profession, I found a disheartened hero. ‘First day,’ ‘hero’—doesn’t that scream fate? Like destiny wove our paths together. And meeting you again in Maelzu Town? Same feeling~”

Arnold froze.

Caro bumped right into his back.

“Hey! Why stop so suddenly? My nose!” She rubbed it, pouting.

“Shh… Thought I saw something…”

Caro tensed, peering uselessly into the dark. “W-what was it? Dangerous? Can you handle it?”

“Ah… wine haze. Just a wild rabbit.” Arnold tossed a stone, then led her to the fallen creature. “Lunch. Though breakfast hasn’t even come.”

Caro exhaled in relief. “Rabbit! Ever tried Mala rabbit head?”

“…What’s that?”

She launched into a vivid, mouthwatering description.

Arnold finally relaxed. *Fate…* If Caro was right, this *was* fate. A blessing. *Goddess of Fate… thank you.* For the first time, the skeptic felt a flicker of belief. Maybe the priests weren’t lying… after all, fate brought him Caro.

*Beautiful. Romantic.*

Watching her chatter, he truly felt it. A girl brimming with charm and romance—walking right beside him.

Long ago, another girl had said: *“Fate guided us. Meeting you is a joy.”*

Back then, he’d felt nothing. It was just a quest. Anyone could’ve stood there. Later events proved him right: that girl was Hua Fanlin—captain of the Golden Lily Knights, likely the kingdom’s most relentless hunter of him.

This trip to Dermal City was to see her. Words the broken man he once was couldn’t speak… now he had the courage. To see if his past left traces.

But he wouldn’t tell Caro his destination was a woman. What if she misunderstood? Though she didn’t see him romantically, Arnold was self-aware. He wouldn’t let the girl he liked think he had a lover. Not when something fragile might be budding.

“Anyway,” Caro concluded, “Mala rabbit head is *delicious*.”

Arnold chuckled. “Most girls find rabbits cute. Many I know refuse to eat them.”

“Pampered nobles? Since when is a rabbit nobler than a cow?” Caro scoffed. “Food isn’t about looks, cuteness, or strength. Only one thing matters: taste!”

She declared boldly: “Taste is the *only* standard! Deliciousness defines worth! Everything else? Irrelevant.”

“But some food just fills the stomach.”

“That’s *sustenance*. Not *cuisine*!”

Arnold smiled faintly. “Can you prepare this rabbit?”

Caro planted hands on hips. “Piece of cake.”

His mood lightened. “After we part in Dermal City… will we meet again?”

“Of course!” No hesitation. “Fate guides us! Oh—and I *did* help you, right?”

Arnold glanced back. “You did.”

“Hehe~ So I’m a hero too! The hero who saved a hero!”

“…You’re not wrong.”

Caro swelled with pride. “We *will* meet again! I’m the hero who appears when you cry for help!”

She likened herself to a certain “girl-saving right hand”—earning only awkward silence.

“I won’t be that pitiful again.”

“Stubborn!” Caro grinned, utterly unconvinced. Then, softer: “You’ve walked the hero’s path so long… true fateful meetings are rare. But now—we’re friends, right~?”

“Huh?” Arnold blinked.

“Friends!” she emphasized. “If you’re sad, don’t wait for fate. Come find me. That’s what friends do.”

Arnold faced forward, silent.

“Anytime. I’ll drink with you, talk with you. That’s friendship, isn’t it?”

*Good grief…*

*How can she say that so openly… without shame?*

*…Isn’t this just making me like her more?*