Morning came slowly to Irinthal Forest.
It did not arrive all at once, nor with any sudden brightness. It crept in quietly, with the pale patience of dawn slipping between the trees. The mist that had felt dense and suffocating the previous night now lingered only in thin veils near the ground, drifting low between the roots and fallen leaves like the last traces of a dream reluctant to disappear. Sunlight filtered through the canopy above in soft, narrow shafts, touching patches of wet earth, silvering strands of spiderweb, and making the forest look almost innocent.
Almost.
Inside the small wooden hut, Noc woke.
His eyes opened slowly.
For a few seconds, he simply stared upward at the familiar wooden ceiling. The same rough planks. The same faint cracks. The same old smell of aged timber mixed with dry leaves and smoke that had soaked into the walls over time. Everything looked exactly as it had every other morning.
Normal.
Too normal.
He blinked once.
Then again.
His hand moved beside him, fingers brushing the floorboards as if to make sure the world was still there, still solid, still obeying the ordinary rules he understood. For a brief moment, he remained perfectly still, listening to the faint sounds outside—the murmur of wind through branches, the distant hush of birds beginning to stir, the quiet breathing of a forest waking up.
Nothing strange.
No oppressive pressure.
No unnatural silence.
No sense that something vast and impossible had brushed against the edge of his existence.
Only morning.
Only the hut.
Only him.
"...Huh?"
His voice came out rough and hoarse, still weighted with sleep.
He frowned slightly, then sat up. His back pressed against the wall, and he let out a slow breath as though trying to settle the lingering weight inside his chest.
"What was... that?"
The words were barely more than a murmur.
Last night still felt unreal.
The memory did not come cleanly. It came in fragments, broken and blurred, like shards of black glass scattered across the edge of sleep. Darkness. Vastness. Silence so deep it seemed to stretch beyond the forest itself. A voice speaking from that silence.
Not much longer...
Noc closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed his face with one hand.
"...A dream?"
Even as he said it, he did not sound convinced.
Because dreams did not leave this kind of unease behind.
Dreams faded when morning came. They loosened their claws and drifted away with the night. But this feeling remained, lodged somewhere deep beneath his ribs like a splinter that could not be seen but could still be felt with every breath.
He opened his eyes again and looked at his hands.
They were ordinary hands.
No marks.
No changes.
No proof that anything had truly happened.
And yet the sensation persisted.
That strange, unfinished feeling.
As if something had been opened and not yet closed.
As if something had been spoken, but not yet answered.
"'Not much longer'...?"
He repeated it quietly, more carefully this time.
The words felt wrong in his mouth. Too heavy for a dream. Too deliberate. Too calm.
"What does that even mean...?"
No answer came.
Only the wind moving through the narrow gaps in the hut walls, whispering softly as if the forest itself had no intention of helping him understand.
Noc let out a long breath and shook his head.
"Ah... whatever."
He pushed himself to his feet.
His body felt light, as it always did. Familiar. Stable. Nothing ached. Nothing resisted. If anything had changed, it was not something he could feel with a simple stretch or a glance in the mirrorless reflection of his own life.
At least, not on the surface.
He reached for the coat hanging in the corner and slipped it on. The worn fabric settled around his shoulders with the comfort of routine. That was what he needed now. Something simple. Something familiar. Something that did not ask questions or demand impossible answers.
"Check the traps..."
He muttered to himself as he adjusted the collar.
That was the plan, as always.
At this hour, he would normally already be outside, moving along the familiar forest paths, checking each trap he had set for small game. Rabbits. Birds. Occasionally a young deer, if luck and patience favored him. Sometimes, if the forest was generous, even a wild boar.
Normal work.
Normal survival.
Normal life.
Or at least, as normal as life could be in a place like this.
But as he stepped toward the door, his feet stopped.
Just before his hand reached the wooden handle.
He went still.
His head tilted slightly, as if some invisible thread had tugged at the edge of his thoughts.
"...Wait."
Something shifted in his expression then.
A little tension.
A little caution.
A little awareness.
"That guy..."
Augustus.
The name rose in his mind with uncomfortable clarity.
Not like the fractured memory of last night.
This was different.
This was vivid.
Very vivid.
The way the man had stood. The way he had spoken. The way his presence had pressed against the world itself, something so strange and immense that Noc still could not explain it even now. He remembered the pressure in his chest. The strange instinct that had told him to remain still. The unnatural certainty that this was not someone he could afford to treat casually.
"Is he still outside...?"
Noc stared at the door as if he might somehow see through it, through the wood, through the mist, through the forest itself.
"...Or has he left?"
He paused.
A small part of him—the quiet, honest part that had no interest in pride—hoped Augustus had already gone.
If the man was gone, then perhaps this whole thing could be buried beneath the excuse of a strange dream, or a bad night, or fatigue. Life could continue. The forest would remain the forest. The hut would remain the hut. And Noc could convince himself that whatever had happened had never truly happened at all.
But another part of him rejected that idea immediately.
Because if Augustus was still there...
Then Noc would have to face him.
He drew in a slow breath.
His expression settled.
Calm.
Flat.
Controlled.
The face of someone who had no intention of showing uncertainty.
"Same as yesterday."
The thought hardened inside him almost instinctively.
"...I can't look weak."
In this world, weakness was dangerous. Not just embarrassing. Dangerous. Weakness invited questions. It invited pressure. It invited people like Augustus to see something in him he did not want seen.
And Noc had spent too long surviving alone to forget that.
"Yeah..."
A faint, almost ironic smile touched his lips.
It was not the smile of a man at ease.
It was the smile of someone choosing a mask.
"I'll just act the same."
He reached for the handle.
And opened the door.
Slowly.
Creeeak...
The old wood gave way with a familiar sound, and the cool morning air spilled inside. Mist greeted him outside, thin and pale, drifting over the ground in soft layers. Sunlight poured through the trees in narrow bands, brightening the forest little by little.
And there, only a few steps away from the hut, Augustus Kael'dorn sat perfectly still.
His posture was straight.
Perfectly controlled.
Almost unnervingly so.
He sat as if he had been placed there by deliberate hand, like a statue carved from discipline and patience. His eyes were closed. His expression was unreadable. Even in rest, he did not seem relaxed so much as contained, as though the world had learned not to disturb him.
The air around him felt different.
Quieter.
More orderly.
As if even the wind had decided to move around him instead of through him.
Noc blinked.
"...He's still here."
The words left him before he could stop them.
A strange mix of relief and dread tugged at him at once. Relief, because at least he knew where the man was. Dread, because he had not gone away.
Before he could think any further, Augustus opened his eyes.
Sharp.
Immediate.
Focused directly on him.
Then, in one smooth motion, Augustus stood and lowered his head.
"Good morning, my lord."
...
...
Noc froze.
Inside.
Absolutely.
Completely.
"...Huh?"
Outwardly, he did not move.
His expression remained flat. His gaze remained steady. His breathing remained even.
But inside his head, something had detonated.
"MY LORD?!"
Pure panic.
Instant.
Disbelief so intense it nearly stunned him.
"What... what does that even mean?!"
He stared at Augustus for several long seconds, waiting for the man to laugh, smirk, take it back, do anything that might suggest this was a joke.
But Augustus did none of those things.
He stood there with complete seriousness.
Respectful.
Composed.
Certain.
Noc's mind raced.
"Is this a joke?"
No.
Augustus looked far too serious.
"Is he serious?"
Very.
More than serious. Reverent, even. The way he held himself, the way he bowed, the way he addressed him—this was not mockery. This was not some strange attempt at humor. This was real.
Why is he calling me that?!
For a moment, Noc's first instinct was to glance behind him, just in case Augustus had mistaken someone else for him. But no. There was no one there. No hidden observer. No third party. Just morning mist, the hut, the forest, and the man in front of him bowing as though the world had already decided his place.
Noc forced himself to breathe.
Stay calm.
Stay the same.
He crossed his arms, lifted his chin just slightly, and answered with the kind of flat tone that would not betray anything.
"...Morning."
Short.
Measured.
Casual.
As though this was normal.
Even though internally—
"THIS IS NOT NORMAL AT ALL!"
Augustus slowly raised his head. His eyes were still respectful, but there was no weakness in them. No hesitation. No uncertainty.
"Where does my lord intend to go this morning?"
The question came with a naturalness that made it somehow worse.
As if this was a perfectly reasonable thing to ask.
As if the two of them had lived this way for years.
Noc blinked once.
Inside his mind, the noise was becoming harder to contain.
"He's asking where I'm going?"
"Why does it sound like a subordinate talking to a superior?!"
But outwardly, he only exhaled and answered in the same calm tone.
"...As usual."
He gestured vaguely toward the trees.
"Checking the traps."
Augustus nodded once as though receiving a serious command.
"I see..."
His gaze shifted toward the forest and then returned to Noc.
"Is there anything I may do for you, my lord?"
...
Noc nearly went still again.
"He's asking again?!"
"And why is he so serious about it?!"
He pressed his lips together, thinking quickly. Very quickly. The kind of quick thinking born from panic disguised as composure.
If I say no, he might get suspicious.
If I ask him to do something, it has to sound believable.
His eyes drifted toward the forest.
To be fair, his supplies really were running low. He had not checked the traps the previous evening, and the past few days had not been especially kind. Food had become a little thin. Not critical, but enough to be noticed.
"...Hm."
He made a small sound as if he were considering something simple, when in reality he was improvising to survive the conversation.
"Coincidentally..."
He glanced back at Augustus.
"...our food supply is running low."
That part was true.
Safe.
"Go hunting."
Short.
Natural.
"...Bring back something."
Simple.
Practical.
At least, from Noc's perspective.
But Augustus did not answer immediately.
He went still.
His eyes narrowed faintly as he processed the words with deep seriousness.
"Hunting..."
The word repeated inside him.
But the meaning he assigned to it was very different from Noc's.
He remembered the night before.
That presence.
That pressure.
The impossible weight of Noc's existence. Anyone who could stand in the center of that kind of force could not possibly rely on ordinary prey. A being like that would not ask for rabbits or boars. That would be beneath the implication of the command.
The conclusion formed naturally.
Which meant...
His gaze sharpened.
What my lord refers to...
He lowered his head slightly, as though the answer had revealed itself.
"...are creatures of a different level."
Monsters.
Not prey.
Not ordinary animals.
Something worthy of being hunted by an existence like Noc Valeir.
Meanwhile, Noc only saw Augustus standing there, apparently lost in deep, solemn thought over what should have been the simplest instruction in the world.
"...Why is he thinking so hard?"
Suspicion began to creep quietly into his chest.
But before he could ask what exactly Augustus thought he meant, the other man spoke again.
"I understand."
The answer was firm.
Certain.
"I will ensure the results are... worthy of you."
Noc blinked.
"...Worthy?"
Inside, he almost collapsed.
"I just meant something edible..."
But outwardly, he nodded once, as though this made perfect sense.
"...Just make sure it's enough."
Then, because he felt he needed to sound even more normal, he added:
"For a few days."
Augustus nodded.
"Understood."
He turned toward the forest.
But before taking the first step, he paused and glanced back over his shoulder.
"And... my lord."
Noc looked at him.
"...What?"
Augustus lowered his head again.
"I will also use this opportunity... to adapt."
"...?"
Noc frowned.
"Adapt?"
Augustus' voice remained steady.
"To... the gift you have granted me."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Noc froze.
Completely.
"...Gift?"
Inside his head, the question exploded into white noise.
"WHAT GIFT?!"
But on the outside, he did not move.
He kept his expression calm.
Slightly cold.
Carefully controlled.
"...Do as you wish."
Safe answer.
Neither confirming nor denying anything.
But for Augustus, that was apparently enough.
"Thank you, my lord."
Then he stepped forward.
Into the forest.
One step.
Two.
And then he was gone.
Not because he moved too fast.
Not because the mist swallowed him.
But because his presence seemed to blend into the forest itself, slipping between the trees and the light until there was nothing left to hold onto.
No sound.
No trace.
No lingering figure.
Just absence.
Noc stood in the doorway for several long seconds, staring into the place Augustus had vanished.
Then—
"...HAAAAAAAAH?!"
He grabbed his head immediately and began pacing in front of the hut, all remaining composure finally collapsing under the weight of confusion.
"WHAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT?!"
"Why is he calling me 'my lord'?!"
"A gift?!"
"Hunting what?!"
He stopped abruptly and stared into the forest, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief, suspicion, and a growing, uneasy fear.
"...Don't tell me..."
He swallowed.
"...he completely misunderstood something?"
The morning breeze brushed through the trees.
The leaves answered with a faint rustling sound.
But Noc could no longer feel any comfort in the forest around him.
Because for the first time that morning, something deep in his chest told him this was not a simple misunderstanding that could be dismissed with a sigh and a shake of the head.
This situation...
Was much larger than he had first thought.
Much larger.
And the worst part was that he could feel it in the silence, in the lingering air, in the uneasy heaviness beneath the light of dawn.
"What the hell is going on...?"
And somewhere deep in the forest, beyond the hut, beyond the mist, beyond the place where ordinary life could reach, the answer was already beginning to move.