The forest was silent.
Elias and his men had set up camp deep within the woods, far from the village of Yakima. A small fire crackled softly, its light barely piercing the darkness.
"As you suspected, Sir," Bruno reported, lowering his voice. "The village chief is a demon. I don't believe the king is aware of what is happening in his own kingdom."
"Or," Elias said calmly, eyes fixed on the flames, "the king has already been captured and held hostage."
The two men exchanged glances.
"That's possible," Bruno replied. "The palace is heavily guarded. Spiritual barriers surround it, and demons patrol constantly. It won't be easy to infiltrate without being detected."
The second man stepped forward.
"The village water changed color overnight. I couldn't determine the exact substance, but it's deliberate. They are forcing the villagers to consume it."
Elias fell silent for a moment.
"Then this is preparation," he said finally. "Demons don't act without purpose. Whatever they are planning… it will not be small."
The fire popped.
"First," Elias continued, "we must find a way to contact Lord Dylan. We cannot act independently."
"But how?" one of them asked. "He is currently in the modern realm. His energy is concealed to avoid detection."
"It's almost impossible to track him," the other added.
Elias nodded once.
"Which is why we remain silent," he said. "We observe. We gather information. We do not act recklessly."
His tone left no room for argument.
They shared their remaining food and took turns keeping watch through the night.
Elias did not sleep.
He was calculating.
Waiting.
And waiting was something he did better than anyone.
*****
Days passed.
I haven't stepped outside the house since that day.
No one complained. No one forced me.
But hiding won't solve anything.
If I want answers about the sudden change in my appearance, I have to face the world eventually.
Jane visited last week. She was worried sick about me.
I had no choice but to tell her everything.
When I removed my glasses, she leaned forward and pulled them off completely.
Instead of fear—
Her eyes sparkled.
"You look like a goddess from a fantasy novel," she said excitedly. "Like one of those powerful heroines I always read about."
That's Jane. A complete novel addict.
"You don't think I look… strange?" I asked carefully.
She tilted her head.
"Well, yeah. You look weird," she said honestly before placing the glasses back on my face. "Other people might stare. But I'll always be here for you. And honestly? I like you better like this."
Tears blurred my vision.
I never realized how gentle Jane truly was.
She stayed for dinner and left after sunset.
The next morning, I stood in front of the mirror again.
Those sharp, unfamiliar eyes stared back at me.
I'm still not used to them.
Then I remembered Dylan.
The way he looked at me.
The way he held my hands.
There was no fear in his eyes.
No disgust.
No hesitation.
Does it means…
He knows something.
He seems to be the only one I should reach out to at the moment.
if there's anyone who has answers—
It's him.
But he already sees me as a weirdo.
What if by chance he refuses to help me.
I have to try my luck.