The faint clink of a spoon echoed faintly through the dining hall.
Sophia sat alone at the long table, her posture straight yet distant.
She occupied the center of the long side, surrounded by an almost excessive number of dishes carefully arranged before her.
The room itself was vast—far too vast for a single person. Its emptiness weighed on the atmosphere, swallowing even the smallest sound. Behind her, a set of tall doors led back to the corridors—toward the gardens, their chambers, and the conference hall.
Yet none of it drew her attention.
She ate slowly, savoring each bite with quiet precision. The flavors were exquisite, beyond anything she had ever tasted.
"Incredible…" she murmured softly.
"If I hadn't tasted it myself, I wouldn't believe such delicacy could exist."
Her voice faded into the silence.
She looked down at the table as her thoughts drifted far away.
The trial.
Was I good enough…?
Her fingers tightened slightly around the spoon.
She had fought with control.
Every decision was carefully measured.
At every turning point, she slowed down—hesitated—choosing certainty over risk.
I could have gone further…
The thought lingered, uncomfortable.
But I hadn't.
Yet something about it still felt… wrong.
A soft exhale escaped her lips.
Adam… Hana…
Her grip tightened slightly.
Clayton… was different.
The memory resurfaced vividly.
The way he had moved.
The precision.
The sheer brutality of it.
Efficient. Decisive. Almost… terrifying.
It was control—absolute and overwhelming.
A faint unease settled in her chest.
Is that what it takes to survive here…?
Did I have it easier than the others…?
Am I expecting too much…?
And yet…
I made it through… without pushing myself to the limit.
The realization left a bitter aftertaste.
Is that something to be proud of… or ashamed of?
Her eyes lingered, unfocused.
While they struggled… I still wished for more.
Silence answered her.
Then, slowly, her thoughts shifted.
Home.
A warmth—distant, fragile—surfaced in her chest.
Her parents.
The quiet streets of Lyon.
The simple rhythm of a life that now felt impossibly far away.
Her vision began to blur.
A tear slipped down, warm against her skin. Another followed, tracing a silent path down her cheek.
She didn't wipe them away.
Will they be okay…?
Do they even know what happened to me…?
Her breathing grew uneven.
For a brief moment, the composed young woman disappeared—replaced by someone simply… lost.
Several minutes passed before the tears finally stopped.
Sophia closed her eyes, drawing in a slow, steady breath.
When she opened them again, the hesitation was gone.
Only resolve remained.
Crying won't change anything.
I'm not alone here.
Her expression hardened—not cold, but focused.
We're all facing the same reality.
Adam's face crossed her mind.
There's even a child among us…
A slight pause.
No…
Her gaze steadied.
He's not just a child.
None of us can afford to be weak here.
Her fingers relaxed around the spoon.
We have to grow.
All of us.
For the first time since she had sat down, her eyes lifted from the table.
The emptiness of the room no longer felt oppressive.
It felt… quiet.
Like the calm before something greater.
*** ***
A muted thud.
The door closed behind him.
Clayton walked quietly through the corridor, his steps steady, unhurried.
He had rested longer than expected.
The trial itself hadn't been difficult—not for him.
But the tension… still lingered.
Phew…
He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair.
I almost slept through half the day.
His gaze remained forward, unfocused.
The trial wasn't hard…
But I couldn't stop thinking about what comes next.
A faint frown crossed his face.
He had always been the one encouraging others.
Keeping them steady. Moving forward.
But now…
Who was going to do that for me?
Silence answered him.
His wife had been gone for years.
No children.
Only a few comrades left in his memories.
Sometimes…
Sometimes it felt like there was no reason for me to keep going.
His jaw tightened slightly.
But I won't run.
He let out a quiet breath.
How many people would give anything just to live…?
His eyes darkened.
Too many.
And yet—
Here I am… complaining.
A bitter smile flickered across his lips.
Joy's voice—his old comrade—echoed faintly in his mind.
"You think too much."
He huffed softly.
He was always right…
His steps slowed slightly.
I'm just a ghost… walking among the living.
Then—
His gaze hardened.
So be it.
I'll keep walking.
For them.
His fallen comrades.
His wife.
I live for the dead.
…
A few moments later, the middle-aged man noticed a silhouette walking awkwardly, as if he were injured.
From his build, it had to be the young Comorian.
"Hey, son, are you okay?"
He called out without hesitation. Adam turned around and looked at him.
"I—I'm okay… but my mood's kind of ruined."
Adam's expression drifted, as if his thoughts were somewhere else entirely. For a brief moment, he seemed distant.
Hm? Something happened? He looks off…
"Alright. Now that you're here, let's go eat together."
"Okay. I'm really hungry. I could eat just about anything right now."
Clayton smiled faintly. It was good to see the boy a little more relaxed. Still, something about his earlier reaction lingered in his mind.
"No complaints so far. Since we arrived, the treatment's been great. I'd even say it's better than some five-star places back home."
For a split second, Adam's expression darkened.
It was subtle—but unmistakable.
Clayton caught it immediately.
…Did I say something wrong?
He didn't press right away. His tone softened slightly.
"Did I say something I shouldn't have said?"
Adam let out a quiet breath.
"…It's nothing."
A pause.
"…I guess I can be a bit selfish sometimes."
His voice was low, almost distant.
Clayton didn't interrupt.
"When you talk about things like that…"
Adam exhaled quietly.
"…it gets to me."
A faint frown appeared on his face.
"…Reminds me of home."
He stopped there.
Didn't elaborate.
A few steps passed in silence.
"It feels like I shouldn't be here." The words came out low, almost absent-minded.
Clayton remained calm as he listened. From the outside, he seemed almost unaffected.
"…Sorry," Adam muttered under his breath.
He clicked his tongue lightly.
"…Forget it."
Clayton studied him for a moment.
…So that's it.
…Everyone's fighting something.
He didn't push further.
"I don't know everything you've been through… but there's nothing strange about feeling that way."
His voice remained steady.
"Not everyone's comfortable with that kind of thing."
A short pause.
"But don't let it get to you."
Adam didn't answer immediately.
But his shoulders eased—just slightly.
______
A soft click.
The doors were gently pushed open, the sound pulling the young woman out of her thoughts.
Is it them?
Quickly wiping her tears, Sophia straightened, unwilling to show any sign of weakness.
Her movements were swift—she brushed her collar and wiped away the faint traces of salt still lingering on her skin. In her haste, however… she forgot something obvious.
"Miss Sophia… are you okay?"
The young Comorian's voice reached her, and she rose to her feet, letting out a quiet, defeated breath.
…Was I that obvious?
Her brown hair fell softly along her face as she finally turned toward them.
She had been facing away. Only now, as she turned to them, did they fully notice.
Adam raised an eyebrow.
She had definitely been crying.
…What happened?
…
Her eyes were red. The skin around her eyes—and the bridge of her nose—was faintly flushed.
An awkward silence settled in the room.
"Miss, please… tell us if something is wrong," Clayton said, breaking the tension. His voice was firm, yet gentle—like that of a father trying to reach his child.
"At this point… we're the closest thing you have to family here."
"Haaah…"
A second sigh slipped from Sophia's lips, tinged with bitterness.
"It seems I'm not very good at hiding my emotions."
"As you might have guessed, Mr. Clayton… I'm just feeling a bit homesick."
Her tone was calm as she expressed the quiet longing weighing on her heart—her family, her friends, the rhythm of her everyday life.
Though composed, her voice carried emotion.
A faint trace of sadness lingered on her face. But she no longer gave in to it—she had already cried.
…Is she… like me? Or rather… is this normal?
Adam felt something resonate within him, echoing Sophia's nostalgia.
"…And if we ever go back… will it still be the same? Will we still be ourselves?"
Sophia continued, though a slight tremor broke through her voice.
"That's why I've made up my mind. We will succeed in what we've been called to do… and we will return home."
Clayton blinked in surprise.
He could feel it clearly—confidence born from despair.
…Hah. She's stronger than I thought.
A quiet sense of relief settled in his chest. The young woman had found her footing.
"Good," he said firmly. "No matter what changes or trials await us, we must never forget: we were taken from our lives back home."
His voice rose, carrying weight, before softening into something more solemn.
"Even if time passes… even if we're forgotten… we must not lose hope."
A soft click.
The doors opened once more. A familiar figure stepped in.
"Excuse me… I'm sorry for being late. I must have dozed off."
Her voice was gentle and low as she gave a slight bow.
"It's alright, Miss Takeda," Sophia replied softly. "We've only just arrived ourselves."
"She's right," Clayton added. "No problem at all. Let's sit—standing around like this feels awkward."
The tension dissolved, and they took their seats around the table.
Seated now, Hana felt a slight unease at having missed part of the conversation. Her anxiety eased as Sophia briefly filled her in, before Clayton resumed.
…She's impressive.
Even at my age… I can't allow myself to fall behind in determination.
Her gaze returned to Clayton, waiting.
"As I was saying," Clayton continued, "we are in a foreign land. That's something we must never forget."
His tone was firm.
"We may witness things… cultures, values, ways of thinking that are completely different from our own."
He hesitated slightly, as if recalling something personal.
…
Adam almost raised an eyebrow, but held himself back.
…Ah. That must be his experience as a soldier.
If I remember what Abdi said… that kind of mindset is rare.
…Though honestly, what do I even know about war?
I should focus instead of drifting off.
…
"In short," Clayton concluded, "we need to stay aware of who we are and why we're here. We shouldn't impose our views blindly."
A brief pause.
"That will depend on our objective… and the situation. That's all. Does anyone want to add something?"
He let out a quiet breath, relieved. Speaking had never been his strength—but it was necessary.
"Alright. Let's eat—some of us are clearly already ahead of us."
Clayton brought the conversation to a close, glancing at Sophia with a faint smile.
"Then… enjoy your meal," Sophia replied with a light smile, without the slightest hint of embarrassment.
"Honestly, though—who could wait with food like this right in front of them?" she added. "Not me. There's far too much here for one person anyway."
She tried to console herself. Still… it would have been nicer to eat together.
"Itadakimasu."
Hana's soft voice echoed at the table, catching the others off guard.
Even Sophia, who had just begun to move away to sit elsewhere, paused slightly, her brow lifting.
Hm?
"What is it?"
Hands still lightly pressed together, the Japanese woman noticed the attention focused on her.
"Miss Takeda… I think you just spoke Japanese," Adam said, his eyes lighting up. "Or—wait… did you just bypass the translation spell?"
"So it's true," he added, almost excited. "Japanese people actually say that? It's not just something from anime? That's kind of cool."
Hana blinked, slightly puzzled.
"It's… simply a polite expression," she replied. "I didn't intend to convey a specific meaning—just a habit."
She paused briefly.
"In our culture, it roughly means 'I humbly receive.' Something like… 'please enjoy your meal.'"
"I see," Sophia said, intrigued. "So it's closer to a form of blessing—or an informal ritual before eating. Your culture is fascinating."
"Which would explain why the spell didn't activate," Clayton added, crossing his arms. "There was no real intent behind it—just habit. So the meaning wasn't processed… and the original language came through."
A brief silence followed as they exchanged glances.
Adam frowned slightly. A flaw… minor, perhaps—but still a flaw in something divine.
"Alright, that's interesting and all… but can we talk about this later?" Adam cut in, his tone a mix of impatience and hunger.
"You're right," Clayton said. "Let's eat. Enjoy your meal."
They finally took their seats and began eating, while Sophia quietly settled a little further away.
Hmph.
Out of sight, out of mind… no amount of delicious food will break my resolve.
…Still…
The sounds alone were enough to make her stomach tighten.
She clicked her tongue softly.
They really could have waited…
Eating together… is always better than eating alone.
In a warm and peaceful atmosphere, the group enjoyed their meal quietly.
*** ***
Elsewhere, in a nearby chamber, a certain goddess indulged in an act of quiet voyeurism.
A faint smile formed on her beautiful face.
"Impressive… These mortals are more perceptive than I expected. Even if they are only half right."
Her silver eyes shimmered with a radiant gleam before settling back into their usual, controlled intensity.
"Still… I must admit, I am rather intrigued."
Her voice softened, laced with amusement.
"I wonder… how my dear chosen compares to you, children of Elyon."
She tilted her head slightly, as though studying something fragile… or entertaining.
"Will your hope truly be enough to save a world steeped in conflict?"
A quiet hum escaped her lips as she began humming an unfamiliar melody, the sound light yet strangely unsettling.
Slowly, she rose from the bed.
Her long silver hair trailed behind her, brushing the floor as she moved with effortless grace.
"Well then… I suppose I should carry out Elyon's little task."
A soft sigh followed, more theatrical than genuine.
"Though truly… why me? Wouldn't it be more fitting for him to address his guests himself?"
She spoke aloud, her tone lazily accusatory—yet beneath it lingered unmistakable excitement.
"Then again…"
She paused near the door, a knowing smile returning to her lips.
"That dear friend of mine is quite cunning."
Her eyes gleamed faintly.
"He might very well be using me… to sharpen their awareness."
A quiet chuckle escaped her.
"Not a bad move."
Her fingers brushed the door handle.
"But really… what could possibly go wrong?"
Still smiling, she stepped out into the corridor—
clearly pleased—as though she were about to deliver not just news…
but the beginning of something far more entertaining.
__________
Hey everyone,
Just a quick message to say I'm still here. I know my updates haven't been very consistent lately, and I truly appreciate your patience.
It's not always easy to keep up, but I believe in this story—and I'm doing my best to keep moving forward.
I also hope that, little by little, there will be more interaction around the story. Your thoughts, comments, or even just your presence really mean a lot.
Thank you for staying with me on this journey.