"What did you bring me?"

"No, sir. We are still actively pursuing all possible leads. ”

"So he's been missing since last night."

"Yes, sir, according to his mother's testimony. The last time Adela Swasham saw Blake was before going to work the night before. ”

"Going to work?"

"Night nurse, sir."

"Chief, it's been less than twenty-four hours since the kid was gone. Doesn't that mean he hasn't been considered missing yet?"

"He's not even eighteen years old, detective. This rule does not apply. Did you get any useful information from his mother?"

"Hysterical?"

"West, do you need me to give you another sensitivity exercise?"

"We are not sure of his mother's testimony, sir. We'll look up one or two more names. ”

"Okay, let's go. Overrule. ”

I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong. The pancake has cake in its name. It's close. It's been a long time since I've had a good pancake.

Matt's pancakes were so delicious. Well, you might think it's easy to make pancakes, and it is. But to make pancakes, it's hard. Not everyone can do it. My brother has; My mom has it too. Family Secret. Sadly, its ingredients are not circulating around the world. Maple syrup doesn't have either.

Maple syrup and powdered sugar pancakes. For a long time, this was the "breakfast for dinner" in our family. When we do have the opportunity to sit down and have a good meal together, we occasionally get that special surprise. Tonight's feast was better than any meal I can remember – including a few real feasts. Mind you, I'm not saying Matt is some kind of food wizard. It tasted good, but the meal got even better because of the company.

First of all, Mom woke up and was still laughing. We told some usual inside jokes, made fun of Matt's unexpected new love life, and hung out together. It felt like we were back where we left off. Sitting at the small round table for the three of us, I felt very comfortable and warm. I think...... It's normal. Relatively. For the first time, I didn't think about Serravel for hours. Occasionally, he would glance out the window to make sure no one was watching, but the usual hallucinations and fleeting fears were gone.

What really made me anxious was when my mom asked me how my school was. I ignored it, or at least I thought I did, but a few minutes later she came back and pestered me. I know she just wants to be a good parent, but how can I answer the homework questions of seven years ago?

Matt couldn't help at all. He could have easily led his mother to something else, but instead he became moody and withdrawn. It was only through years of experience dealing with my antagonists in ambassador's tents that I was able to hide my emotions and steer the conversation in the direction I wanted. She persevered, which Matt apparently inherited from her. Once they have a task in mind, they don't give up. It's admirable, except when I'm the target.

I love her to death, don't get me wrong. I tried to tell her everything, but Matt refused. He may be right. Let's keep it a secret until it's clear that we know what we're doing and who we can trust.

yes, I'm a bit of a hypocrite. Shut up.

Sara is my best friend. And not the kind of best friend you happen to hang out with a lot. I mean someone I trust. She's the kind of person who has seen me cry, she knows every crush I have and every weird thought that flashes through my head, and she'll keep me awake for weeks on end until three in the morning, talking about anything, and everything in between. I never lied to her.

Well, that's a lie too, if you want to be pedantic. But the big thing. I've never lied to Sarah, she's helped me so much. Like my dad's thing, or when my mom was sick, or those stupid things at school, or my huge identity crisis when I realized what it meant that my last name was different from Matt's.

(Not adopted, by the way.) Pure-blood siblings, it's complicated. If you ask, I might tell you this story someday. )

The point is, Sarah can be trusted. She's the nicest person I know in the world, except for my mom. But while my mom has never understood prudence and she prefers to share everything in the family, Sara will never break her promise to anyone. Maybe Matt didn't know it yet, or maybe he ignored people like Sarah when he said we couldn't tell anyone.

So why didn't I tell Matt what I did? If I have to admit, I'm scared. I'm afraid he'll say it's a bad idea. I'm afraid he'll tell me to stop talking to her. And then we had a real problem, because there was absolutely no way I could agree. I don't want to quarrel with my brother. We've done this before, and it's all been bad. It's really serious.

At the moment, secrecy is the best option. Sarah doesn't know much and hasn't asked anything yet. It seems like a good compromise. In addition, it also makes the rift between her and Matt disappear.

yes, my best friend and my brother are going on a date, and that's weird. But they're only a year apart now, and I'm serious. They look like a lovely couple. I thought they would be fine together. They are two of my favorite people in the world, and they want to be together. It can't be a bad thing, right?

Right?

No, I'm not worried. It's going to be fine.

I'm worried if Matt noticed what I brought in that afternoon. When we get home from school, I run to check the mailbox. Lo and behold, same-day delivery is a miracle of modern technology. I hope I rush the package into the room before Matt goes to the garage. He probably saw me through the window. I don't know. I feel like I'm well hidden. He didn't mention it anyway.

After dinner, while Mom was helping Matt clean the kitchen (although he insisted that she go and relax and enjoy her unusual day), I climbed the stairs very quietly and carefully. Usually, our whole house squeaks everywhere you go. It's almost impossible to move around without anyone hearing. I learned a lot about quiet moving, and a lot of the concepts still apply. My steps were light and agile, and I still remember specific places where many ancient woods made sounds. Memories resurfaced, many nights with Ttvalen and Neflin, and I learned how to walk in the forest with only whispers behind me, how to avoid the rustle of leaves and branches, how to avoid the sound of footsteps without losing a trace of motivation. Completely different environment, but I was able to adapt to the basics, and I learned very quickly.

When I got back to my room, I was almost a ghost running on the floor and didn't hear the door slamming or the heel hitting the floor.

I'm not sure why I'm doing this. It's not like my family doesn't know where I am. It feels natural. Being able to move silently almost anywhere is a skill I've honed over the years, and it's incredibly valuable. I don't want to let it go.

Under the "Valuable Skills" section, there's also the package I ordered that afternoon on Carl's phone — a surprisingly short cardboard box that I tucked under my bed. I opened it slowly, trying to avoid making too much noise when tearing the tape. Inside is a beautiful three-piece maple curved bow that is easy to disassemble and reassemble. A hard leather suitcase with a quiver and a set of arrows with feathers.

I took the bow out and assembled it, though I didn't tie it up right away. I don't want to put pressure on the wood, and I don't plan on using it anytime soon, so there's no reason to bother with it right now. My hand slid along the plank, feeling the smooth maple and the perfect surface. It's perfect. It's perfect. I wish I still had the bow I had made myself, but I forced myself to dismiss it. It's stupid. I couldn't have assembled a bow of that high quality with the tools and materials here. In addition, there are prettier, more modern materials that can be used to replace traditional wood, and I am not a purist.

As an example, the bow limbs of this bow are not made of wood, nor of any material known to the people of Silavier, but are made of black fiberglass, which rolls backwards and upwards to form an elongated curve that adds weight to the strings. I shudder at the thought of what Tesivalen would think about it, but that's not to say I can use the embryos here to strengthen my limbs. I haven't felt any connection or resuscitation in this world yet, so I had to settle. Fiberglass can work, even if the shiny black is completely out of harmony with the delightful brown swirls on the maple.

Satisfied, I took it apart and put the three parts back into the slots in the foam lining of the leather bag. The bag was tied around the waist and attached was a cylindrical box containing arrows. I tried on the outfit and tested it carefully. After a few adjustments, it flexed with my movements, but it was still tight and firm. It doesn't dangle unnecessarily, grab things or get in my way. I tried to touch it and found that I could grab an arrow and do it quickly and painlessly whenever I needed it.

I checked the arrows. They're more expensive than I thought they were, but they're sturdy and smooth to the touch and have nice wings. The tip is wide and it looks like they're up to the job. They also fly straight, even if they use some odd feather colors. I guess the pure white and black make them easier to spot when hunting. I packed them in a bag and didn't want them to be exposed in the quiver outside in case anyone snooped on.

Finally, there are the knives. In any case, I have much less experience with them in terms of materials and quality. I know how to use it for sure. I watched it and it looks pretty good. The blade is sharp and long enough that I can do anything with it. I feel very satisfied.

The bag was hidden under my bed, under a few sheets, and I fell under my own blanket. Every muscle aches from fatigue. I pulled the blanket tight around me and curled up waiting for the heat to come in, hoping I had a fire or something, because I couldn't keep myself warm as I usually would.

You can buy a bow online and have it delivered to your door within 9 hours. How crazy is that?

The thought flashed through my mind, and I fell asleep a few minutes later. After a painful night of insomnia and the exhaustion of the first day back, true sleep finally arrived. I'm grateful to have finally actually fallen asleep. As I quietly left, my mind focused on what I had just bought. weapons.

It was the first time I felt safe since I got home. It bothers me, but I can't help it. I don't have a logical reason to expect something, but my brain thinks logic can mess it up on its own. In my hands, the bow was a deadly, swift, and almost silent weapon, and that knife was a great addition. If I were attacked, they would have ended the fight quickly.

What the hell was I thinking? I don't want to kill anyone. That's not me. I don't even want to hurt anyone.

So why did I clutch the knife under my pillow when I fell asleep?

＊＊＊

The next day (Thursday, because I finally remembered the name of each day again) was a disaster.

Of course, I say this with good intentions, but I'm pretty sure I ruined everything in one day. Come on, Team Jane.

I want me to go back and explain. Not bad at first. The next morning, I woke up after about 15 hours of continuous sleep with a knife in my hand. I had breakfast and ate the leftover pancakes from the night before. Matt put them on a plate in the fridge and left a note with my name on it. Mom has also left, so for a while the house was my own. Most of the time I just chewed and stared out the back window at the woods.

There is a small forest behind our house. It's really not that big, but it's deep enough that you might get a little lost and feel like your sense of direction is completely gone, surrounded by scattered tree trucks and bushes. Of course, because we were still close to several major roads, the faint noise of cars speeding by was unavoidable. The woods obscured it, but that's all. The Serraville Forest is much larger and more difficult to traverse, but it's on the other side of town, farther from the city.

I now have a strong and primal desire for those trees. Sitting in the shade of some large tree trunk, in a cozy corner under its thick roots, the scattered sunlight filtering through the layers of leaves above my head, feeling the wind rustle between the branches, the floor covered with layers of ivy and fallen twigs, my nostrils filled my nostrils with the smell of bark and sap, and perhaps the smell of the impending downpour.

But I had to go to school.

I packed my bags and went out. With Sarah's help, I managed to find myself a class schedule for later in the day, so I actually knew what I had for the day and not blindly hoping that my feet would take me to the right room. Our school has alternate day classes, so today I have a new set of classes. Sara also had something to do on Thursday morning, so I had to walk to school by myself. However, my other friends were waiting for me at the door in the morning. I said hello, as usual, but for the rest of the day, I avoided talking. I just let them talk. I really don't feel it today, especially with them.

Their conversation looked ...... I do not know. Not important, now? I kind of hate myself for thinking so. Does this make me super arrogant? Neflin certainly has a few words to describe it.

I can't get involved in gossip anymore, especially since I don't remember half of the people we talked about. When the name floats like petals in the wind, there isn't much interesting information. I know I'll regret not paying attention later, but now it looks like too much effort.

Sorry, but to get down to business, disaster day. Nothing interesting happened in the morning. I'll skip straight to the noteworthy part. That happened during the break between my second and third periods.

I was just standing in front of the locker in the hallway. Nothing special. (By the way, thank you Sara, you told me where my locker was, just raised a few eyebrows with painful concern.) I struggled with my bag all day, trying not to get the contents from spilling all over the place as I walked. It's too noisy. I could tell myself it was okay, but my instincts stubbornly held on until I gave in. I divided all the loose stuff into small bags and put the cotton balls I had taken out of the art classroom into them.

I felt like I was smart and content, so something must have gone wrong.

There are a few people playing a game of catch in the neighborhood. Actually, they are all good people. I vaguely remember that faraway place from a long time ago. I think we were classmates in elementary school. I keep an eye on them, just as I always look at everyone within thirty feet. But I was distracted and I wanted to figure out what was in my locker, what the hell was half of the trash in it, and if I really picked out the crappy decoration on the door, and I didn't notice the ball coming until it hit the wall above my head.

Well, it's nothing new that objects flying towards my head. Usually they are sharper. But the similarities are there. The air behind it swept across my face, and I only caught a glimpse of the flash of an object. Suddenly, when I turned around, my mind slipped to a completely different place - face to face with a group of roaring kapavas, who rushed towards me, their eyes filled with hatred, and raised their fists.

I did. Difficult. He was taller than me, much bigger than me, but he had no weapons. Faster, more direct, he didn't expect. I aimed at his unprotected stomach.

The fleshy part of the lower abdomen that was not protected was slammed with a punch. He was so frightened that he couldn't straighten up. Now I can use his momentum and weight against him. As I dodged away, my strong right foot grabbed his unbalanced left foot.

He stumbled forward. His head hit the inside of the locker directly. I turned and followed him. My hand pulled the knife out of the belt holster behind my back. One knee pressed down on his spine, pressing him to the ground. I grabbed his head and aimed the blade at his throat.

He is at my mercy.

"What the hell?"

The real world quickly returned to normal. I didn't take down any racist, hateful fighters — I just took down a rugby guy. He kept trying to catch one of his friend's bad balls, and then he got distracted. Almost hit me.

I pointed a knife at him. Take him down. I almost killed him.

Pure, icy fear gripped every fiber of me. I climbed down from him and tucked the knife into my sleeve - I prayed I could hide it before anyone else found out. I reached out to the guy, who was now completely confused, lying on the floor at my feet, head still tucked into my locker. His friends rushed over and a small group of people surrounded us, chattering excitedly.

Oh, my God! It's bad.

"Sanan," I said awkwardly. "Self-defense class, right?"

"Uh-huh," he said slowly, but still took my hand. I pulled him up, relieved that there was no confrontation. He hadn't noticed how close he had been to death a second before. Because I. Because I messed up.

"Are you okay?" His friend asked, staring at me.

"Is she okay?" The man asked rhetorically.

"Oh, forget it, Chris. You don't need that head anyway. I couldn't help but giggle, and the friend grinned. How did you do that, Jenny?"

The brief laughter disappeared into the cold ice. Well, don't get me wrong, I like to be in the spotlight on a good day, but today is definitely not a good day. If I'm up to the task, I can rock the "edgy, mysterious cool girl" vibe that I suddenly picked up and ride all the way to the next dance – but now? I went into Volas management mode. I had so much adrenaline in my blood begging me to leave, I couldn't be quiet. My right hand played with the hilt of the knife clipped to the sleeve of my shirt, fidgeting, waiting to make a move.

I need to get out of there. My heart was beating so hard that my skull was covered in blood.

They're still waiting for me to say something. "I eat vegetables," I said with a limp. "I'm sorry, I have to go."

Without looking back, I grabbed my bag and closed the locker. After a few seconds, I left the building completely.

＊＊＊

There's no way I'm going to make it through the rest of the day. I won't see a friendly face for the rest of the day, thanks to the class schedule change. I felt weak. I hated that I needed a support system to get through a day in high school. I've never had this issue before. I shouldn't be like that. I should have been back to normal, but I still felt like a mentally unstable, emotionally broken person.

yes, I know, I have PTSD or something. It's obvious. I can even pinpoint exactly where I got it, but it didn't work for me at all. Knowing what's wrong with you and what you can really do is very, very different things. I'm still stuck on step A and I don't know how to get to step B.

Scared the hell out of me.

So I ran. I raced through the neighborhood and retreated to the place where I felt most comfortable and safe, where I could find myself again. I felt at home. There, I never encountered anything bad, and there, I really figured out who I was and how to truly live in this world.

So, naturally, I found myself deep in the woods behind the house, with the bow and arrows hanging on my back, and the knife comfortably on my waist.

Even yesterday I didn't plan to do anything with a bow. I want it like I wanted a safety blanket when I was a kid. I just need it, not because I really want to use it as a blanket, but because it has to be by my side, otherwise things are not right. The bow would obediently sit in a box, hidden under my bed, unnoticed, and I might never take it out again.

Interestingly, things change in a day, right?

No, it's not funny at all. It's so horrible. There are too many "single days" in my life.

But what about now? Alone in the woods? This is good.

I was deep in the forest, fully immersed in it as best I could. The noise of the human world was barely audible, obscured by the bushes and dense branches, and turned into faint whispers. There was almost no wind today, which was a bit disappointing, but just being surrounded by lush greenery, birds chirping, and even a squirrel jumping around on a nearby tree branch put my mind at ease.

For a long time, I just wandered aimlessly, without any goals and no real direction other than to stay away from the noise. Normally, I'll wander around in a dilemma, waiting for my prey to show up, but I'm not sure if there's any game worth playing in this forest. What's more, as much as I hate not being able to forget even here, I'm back in the real world. I don't quite know what the law says, but I'm pretty sure it's probably illegal to hunt in the woods in a random suburb.

Also, to be honest, I'm not really hungry. I just want to get back to what I'm good at. Use the skills I've learned for something other than fighting, you know. Another thing. But if I go hunting with enough food and plenty of food in the pantry, Tessivaren will be very angry.

So, yes. Tethevalle

。 I know I didn't mention him much, and I'm sorry. It still hurts. He was the best father I had. Well, the only one, but.

I found a nice box and sat down against it. Look out towards the sky, which looms through the canopy of the forest, dotted with beautiful fluffy clouds. Obviously, I can't see a star at this time, but I know where the Tessvalen bar is. I smiled at him, said a short prayer, and began to doze off. Not that he was really there. Whenever the young Silvers brought up the question, he rolled his eyes at the idea. But I like it very much. It is comforting to think that some part of his personality and memory has returned to the sky with his wisdom.

Dude, I sound like a madman, don't I?

I reached into my bag and pulled out a blanket that I had brought with me, wrapped it tightly, again hoping I could do better than just a cloth covering to warm myself. I pulled up my hood, covered myself with the quilt, and leaned against the corner of the tree, closing my eyes. Just listen. Hear everything in the woods. Let my mind wander into the forest.

For a moment, I could almost hear the Silver family whispering in the nearby woods. My friend Neflin played her Tulaville, and she begged me to sing along, even though I knew almost nothing about them. When I make up the lyrics for her melody, she laughs out loud. We drank talfries as we played the tulavel and sang increasingly provocative songs to the more handsome Dusself across the fireplace. When we were too drunk to play, she would use her usual party trick to grab a fireball from the spark of fire and let it fly around my eyes until I was dizzy and fell to the ground.

All the Silphs laughed. I'll be embarrassed and snatch the fire out of the air. I'm going to multiply it by a dozen flames and spell out some very rude words to scold Nave, which will only make them laugh harder. None of them were as good as my Etovola, so they got their pleasure out of my party skills.

Of course, the whole team was drunk and already playing with fire, and we naturally got into a race to measure etola. Most Silver people prefer water or wind when it comes to drinking Etovola, which means that their drinking game usually involves taveris and real liquids. Naef and I were the only two people in the family with a real flame, so our fireside game became legendary in our sunshine. Whenever he heard that we were going to party, dozens of Silphs would appear, which made Rovale embarrassed by his sister's antics and hurried out into the shadows. They came in droves, eager to see the two masters demonstrate our skills.

Or maybe they just come out to watch two babes play with fire. I'm not sure. After all, I was only twenty years old at the time, and Nav was only about sixty years old (that's too young for an elf, right?). She looks and behaves basically the same age as me. It's totally unfair), so we're the main target for young audiences. Many of them are close to Naf, and even a few truly adventurous Dusself want to ask out this strange human girl they have adopted en masse.

I rejected them.

Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm interested. By the stars, some people... I mean. Damn it. But I have my reasons.

A nearby branch broke in half. A sharp crackling sound echoed through the trees. My daydreams burst like bubbles suddenly and horribly. I tensed up, my hands already grasping my knife. Another crunched among the leaves on the forest floor. They are not far away.

Out of pure instinct, I slowly reached for my bow, preparing for the worst.

I'm on Earth. If I draw it, I'm really in trouble.

I resisted the urge. I live in the suburbs and no one will suddenly attack me. I'm safe. Except that I still had the knife in my hand, just in case, I peeked around the edge of the trunk towards the source of the sound.

When I recognized the source of the letter, I was relieved—followed by a wave of confusion. I put away my knife and stood up and shouted loudly.

”Kalleddo

Shasalla。 How can I make a phone call to Silwich?"

Carl froze in place, his eyes narrowing. He looked around and recognized me without much effort. Because, you know, I'm not hiding anymore. Why hide from someone who has saved your life a few times? The only person in the world who can understand this phrase?

"Hi, Jen."

"Unique." I added as he walked towards my tree. Every time I hear footsteps crunching between the leaves, I cringe. "Aren't you better at this?"

"Shut up." Carl grunted. He sat on a toppled tree trunk that had fallen years ago, while I returned to my comfortable position in the corner of the root. "I'm not used to my old body yet." He paused. "Did you just call me Caledor?"

"yes," I teased. "Did I miss your title?"

“… I don't know. Now it sounds cheesy. "He looked embarrassed.

I grinned. "It's always like this."

"Oh my gosh, really?" His face grew redder.

"Don't worry, I'm sure it's just me and Matt," I said. "It's a perfect fantasy name." Carl still looked skeptical, so I changed the subject before he actually started digging deeper. "Anyway, back to the obvious question: why the hell are you here?"

"I can ask you the same question." Karl retorted with an eyebrow raised.

"Yes, no." I answered without hesitation. "It's basically my business, and we're close to my house. You'd better not stalk me," I added jokingly.

“… I kind of like it," he replied embarrassedly. "I saw what you ordered on my phone. I think you'll go out hunting sooner or later. ”

I was really surprised. It took me a moment to figure out how he did it. “… Oh, shit. Browser history. ”

He nodded. "Yes."

"I guess it's good that I didn't use Matt's computer at the time."

"Yes."

"So you're following me here to scare away all my prey?" I said again, glancing at his feet on purpose.

"I want to talk."

His tone, perhaps his expression, spoiled the atmosphere. I finally enjoyed it once. The conversation was no different from what we used to talk about. I made fun of him, he was ridiculed, good-natured jokes. That's between us. So it's clear that today is destined to come to an abrupt end.

"What's wrong?" I asked, already afraid of this answer.

Carl began to answer, but he stammered and could not speak, his mouth opened and closed a few times, and no sound came out. I waited patiently. I don't know what's going on, but it doesn't look like him. Carl doesn't talk much, but he never runs out of things to say. I'm really worried. Finally, he finally asked a question.

"You were there, weren't you?"

Well, that's not a good impression. "Huh?"

"When Blake ...... When he-" Carl said in a choked voice, glancing away awkwardly.

Oh, the stars. My heart sank. Carl finally accepted. I knew it was coming, but still. How can you tell someone that their best friend is dead?

“… Yes," I said calmly.

"I didn't know," Carl said, his voice a little tougher, his gaze returning to mine. "He didn't suffer, did he?"

I answered in my heart, but I can never tell you. "He didn't. Soon. ”

Carl smiled. "Even if that's, Fannandu."

“Sel

ou。 ”

He picked up a twig from the ground and fiddled with it. I sat back down on the tree, picked up the blanket, and wrapped myself tightly. The clouds obscured the sun, the weather was getting colder, and the breeze finally blew in, blowing at the branches and leaves. I love the sound it makes. We just sat there, like before, Carl was sharpening his sword (well, branches) and I was watching him and everything else from my position under the tree. Minutes and seconds passed, and only the birds accompanied us.

"He likes it there, you know?" Carl concluded. I couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. While I'm kind of enjoying the silence, Carl hasn't been that person for a long time. If it continues to stretch, I'm really going to start worrying.

"Blake?" I prompt.

"Yes. I mean, he hates wars and stuff like that, but this world. He loved Serravel. ”

"Oh." I'm not sure what Carl wants to get out of this conversation. I had to ask him to bounce things back off me. I hope that's what he needs. Anyway, it seems to work so far.

"He's found a girl, you know?" She's beautiful. They intend to get married and start a family. He invited me to be his best man. ”

"I thought there wasn't anything like that there."

Carl smiled. "We intend to start this tradition ourselves. Blake is a romantic man. A picturesque wedding is a must. ”

"I never knew," I said. "I didn't really spend a lot of time with him."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. I'm a little busy. ”

"Busy being a girl in Silvanda?" Carl raised an eyebrow and smirked.

It was my turn to blush. "Wacker, this is cheesy. Do they really call me that in Kandel?"

"Well, they've got to give you a name. You are a legend. ”

"Does it have a shiny hat?"

"It's more like an eternal hatred for the emperor."

I snickered. "Now there's a Medal of Honor." Carl smiled. "It's not quite right not to die, right?"

Oh, vack. Karl's face was as gloomy as night. This annoys me. I didn't mean to spoil the atmosphere. I said the wrong thing.

“…… I'm sorry. ”

"It's okay," he said, but looked away again.

"I shouldn't have said that. He's your friend. ”

"He made a mistake and he paid for it," he said. "I can't say he deserves it."

Why, oh, why, Carl, do we always have to jump wildly between jokes and teases, and painful shared memories? Every time. The silence is incredibly unsettling.

Why can't I just put the awkward part aside and have a good, normal conversation? Or normal values between two random dimension hoppers like us.

"You know, I'm serious," Carl blurted out, looking back at me. "On the phone."

"Huh?"

"I still love you."

Is that what he's going to talk about next?

"Carl......" I just spoke, but he kept talking.

"Even though we're stuck here, even though everything has changed, I really love you, Jane."

I must stop this confessional before things get out of hand. "Carl, you don't know."

"What?"

"You don't really know me," I sighed. "You didn't even know my name until we left here."

"But, that night—"

Oh star, not that. "Look, Carl. You're my friend, and yes, we've been through some ridiculous, life-changing, horrible things together. I'm impulsive, okay?" I shrugged and blushed. "There was a moment when I really needed to be saved, and there you were. I will be eternally grateful to you, but that's all. ”

"I-"

"It's just a kiss, Carl." My face lit up like someone had splashed boiling water on my face. Stupid emotions.

In case you're wondering, I'm telling you the truth. I'm going to be very old-fashioned to cut out the oldest lines in the book, but I only like Carl as a friend. That night, in a hotel on the outskirts of Venamport, I let my guard down and got carried away by everything around me. There's nothing romantic between us, and even if there is, I have too much of my own to deal with.

But that's not the case. Take it seriously. It's just two friends who are often together and have kissed once or twice.

But I don't like what I did to him. Carl was my friend, and I was still hurting him. Of course, of course, it had to be worse.

"It doesn't look like that," he said confusedly.

"I don't know what else to say, Carl." I sighed. "You've met someone, but not the real me. I'm sorry. ”

"You're wrong". Hearing his harsh tone, I raised my eyebrows. He narrowed his eyes and tossed the branch aside. "That's you. Is this one?" He leaned over and picked up a small key chain from my bag. A cute plastic squirrel that I won in the arcade a long time ago and has had in every backpack since. "This is not the real you. It's just an illusion you've made. He sat down again. I bet you have weapons now, right?"

I nodded slowly. I've actually let go of the knife since we started talking, but it's still gently pressed against my back when I'm leaning against the tree.

"Yes, because that's you. You're still her, not Jenny. You are Je

ife

Demovi-Ralaev。 He said this with awe, almost like a whisper. Like it's an inspiring thing. "You're a fucking legend, not some stupid high school girl"

“Seka

a

A vack, do you know my name?" I roared, stunned. The name is private. Karl couldn't possibly know. Only my neighbor knows the name.

I changed my tone abruptly, and he stepped back in fright. "I-"

"Say it, masasak-la, or I'll do it"

"Rainey told me." He blurted out.

“… How did Reinier Selman know?"

Carl looked down at the forest floor. His voice became calm. “… Because he tortured an elf. Her name is Roare. I think. ”

I stood up suddenly. The blanket fell. My hand went straight to the knife. Not to attack Carl or anything, but I definitely wanted to poke something. “Ruvalei Dusyla

i ?” I asked, gritting my teeth and uttering a few syllables. I already know the answer, though. Few Sylphs would say enough about Li

gue

, worth torturing, I know all of them. They were all taught by me.

“… Yes," Karl replied nervously. "I'm sorry."

I began to pace in front of the tree, deliberately creaking the leaves with each step. I need to find a way to vent my anger and find an outlet.

I don't know where she went. We never knew what happened to her. Neferin cried for days after she disappeared. We all are. Nave's sister is the kindest and sweetest person in the entire forest. Super timid, but when she comes out of her shell, she's an amazing cook and the most beautiful singer you can imagine. She taught me everything about history and culture, especially music. She also wrote her own songs, and I learned them all.

She disappeared shortly before the first border raid, and that's when my happy life was finally shattered.

"Did he kill her?" I asked, looking up at the sky, desperately trying to see her star—even though I knew I had lost it forever. It's a completely different world, and she's dying alone on the torture rack deep in the dungeon, far from the roots of the world.

"Yes."

"Sildavaca." I growled. I kicked the trunk, although it didn't make me feel any better. "I am very happy with Dektolal Kapa

- Basal died. Blake should kill him slowly. ”

"Wait, what?"

I stopped pacing. I just said something that I really, really shouldn't have said. I slowly turned around and looked at Carl. He wore an illegible mask on his face.

It seems that we have all learned terrible things today.

"Where is Blake?" His voice was too calm. Disturbing.

Oh, stars, don't connect the dots. Don't be so logical and clever in your life, Carl. "Yes. Blake and I were both there. "I said cautiously, trying to control my emotions. I'm still upset about what I've just learned, even though I'm trying to hide the secret from Carl.

"But you've never entered the main hall. Matt should know what's inside......" Carl's face contorted. I plucked up my courage. He figured it out. Matt should have been clearer. "He sent Blake in to die."

"Karl-"

"He knows. Matt knows. Karl muttered. I could hear the iron in his voice, the cold steel of Caledo. "Matt sacrificed Blake."

"We all know," I said weakly, but Carl was already up and walking.

"I can't, Jane." Carl's voice was low and painful, and I sympathized with him. I felt so strongly about him that I could barely breathe. He turned to leave, and I opened my mouth to speak, but I couldn't say anything. "I just can't do it."

I watched him turn and walk away. I knew he was starting to cry, but he was hiding again, and I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I messed up today. That conversation was completely out of control.

I fell down the tree again, pulled the blanket tight, got into my hood, closed my eyes, and tears rolled down my cheeks. To Neflin, Tetvallen and Roare, the memory of poor Rois took over my mind. I let them devour me, desperately trying to keep the real world out of the world and hide in another world, even if only for a short while.