The walk began quietly.
No urgency.
No interruption.
Just the sound of footsteps against packed earth.
Ai walked slightly ahead.
Not far.
Just enough to lead.
And between them—
Silence.
Not heavy.
Not uncomfortable—
At least not for him.
For her—
Different story.
I could feel it in the way she moved.
Small adjustments. Slight hesitation in her steps every now and then, like she was considering saying something… then choosing not to.
Meanwhile—
Him?
Nothing.
"…You're really just going to let this ride out, huh?"
I leaned into that thought a bit.
Because this—
This was prime awkward silence territory.
Two people. Walking. No conversation.
One of them clearly aware of it.
The other—
Not even trying.
Honestly, at this point—
I'd gotten used to it.
Day three.
Same pattern.
Same reactions.
Or lack of them.
But beneath that silence—
He wasn't idle.
His thoughts moved.
Focused.
Herbs.
Not just what they were.
But how to remember them.
At least the common ones.
That part came through clearly.
Names.
Uses.
Appearance.
Processing.
He wasn't thinking about this as a one-time lesson.
Not casually.
I don't want to come back again.
That thought surfaced quietly.
Not dismissive.
Not ungrateful.
Just—
Considered.
Not because he didn't want to see her.
Not because he didn't value what she was offering.
But—
I don't want to be a bother.
That landed.
"…You really think like that, huh."
I let it sit there for a second.
Because that kind of thinking—
It wasn't rare.
But it was… specific.
Even when someone offered help—
Freely—
He still framed it as something to minimize.
Something to finish in one go.
"…You know that's not how learning works, right?"
I said it lightly.
Not expecting an answer.
Because memorizing herbs—
Actually understanding them—
That wasn't something you just cleared like a task.
But still—
I got it.
He wasn't avoiding effort.
He was avoiding taking more than he needed.
And that—
Was its own kind of restraint.
They walked a bit further.
The open field ahead becoming clearer with each step.
Then—
He spoke.
"What herbs are we going to find here?"
Direct. Simple.
No attempt to soften the silence.
"…Oh, so now you talk."
I couldn't help it.
A small laugh slipped through.
"Not even to ease the mood. Just straight to the point."
That was him.
Ai blinked slightly.
Caught off guard for a split second—
Then answered.
"In the fields… mostly healing herbs."
Her voice steadied as she continued.
"Redveil Leaves are common here. They're used for healing potions."
A small pause.
"Sunroot too. For stomach-related medicine."
Then—
"Vigor Root. For stamina."
And as she spoke—
Something shifted.
The hesitation—
Faded.
Her tone changed.
Not drastically.
But enough.
More certain.
More fluid.
She didn't stumble over her words.
Didn't pause to think about how to say things.
She just—
Spoke.
"…Oh."
I caught that immediately.
"That's different."
Because this—
This wasn't the same Ai from earlier.
The one hesitating at the door.
The one fumbling through greetings.
This version—
Knew exactly what she was talking about.
And it showed.
"…Right."
I let that thought settle.
Because it made sense.
When you're talking about something familiar—
Something you understand—
You don't need to search for words.
They just come.
"…So that's how it works."
A small realization formed.
Maybe it wasn't just shyness.
Not entirely.
Maybe—
It was uncertainty.
Not knowing what the other person expects.
What they want.
What direction the conversation should go.
But here?
There was no guesswork.
She knew the subject.
She knew the structure.
She knew what to say.
So she spoke.
"…Yeah."
I nodded to myself.
"That checks out."
And just like that—
The silence shifted.
Not gone.
But no longer empty.
He didn't respond.
Not really.
"Hmm."
That was it.
Acknowledgment.
Nothing more.
"…That's all you've got?"
I sighed lightly.
Because she just explained something—clearly, properly—and he just… filed it away.
No follow-up.
No confirmation.
Just—
Accepted.
Though—
To be fair—
He wasn't dismissing it.
He was processing.
He didn't know these before.
Not properly.
Names, maybe.
But not variants. Not usage. Not structure.
So instead of reacting—
He stored it.
They kept walking.
The path narrowed slightly as they moved through a stretch of trees. Not dense enough to block the light, but enough to frame the road ahead.
Wood underfoot shifted to packed soil and scattered roots.
The air cooled again.
Then—
The trees opened.
The field revealed itself.
Wide.
Open.
Alive.
Green stretched outward in layers, broken by clusters of color—reds, yellows, faint blues scattered naturally across the land.
Nothing forced.
Nothing uniform.
Just—
Growth.
The breeze came in softly.
Not strong.
But enough.
It moved through the field first—rolling across the plants—before reaching them.
Ai stepped forward.
One step past the edge of the path.
Into the field.
And the wind followed.
Her hair lifted slightly.
Not dramatically.
Just enough for movement to catch the light.
Then she turned.
Facing him.
And smiled.
"Welcome… to Lunareth's treasure trove."
It wasn't exaggerated.
Wasn't forced.
Just—
Genuine.
And for a moment—
Everything slowed.
He stopped.
Just slightly.
His mouth parted—
Barely.
And—
His heart—
Skipped.
I felt it.
Clear.
Undeniable.
"…Huh?"
That—
Didn't line up.
Because this whole time—
Nothing.
No reaction.
No interest.
No shift.
And now—
This?
"…Why now?"
I couldn't place it.
Didn't make sense.
I ran through it.
Quick.
Instinctively.
Attraction?
No.
That didn't fit.
I would've felt it earlier.
Not here.
Not like this.
He hadn't thought about her.
Not once.
Not like that.
"…Heh."
I shook my head slightly.
"No way."
And yet—
That moment stayed.
Just long enough to register.
Long enough to—
Matter.
Because it wasn't just him.
I felt it too.
That brief stillness.
That strange pull.
That quiet shift where everything aligned—
Without explanation.
"…What was that?"
No answer came.
So I did what he did.
Set it aside.
The moment passed.
The field returned to normal.
The air moved again.
Time resumed.
And he—
Stepped forward.
He moved.
Just stepped forward—
Like nothing happened.
"…Huuuh?"
I blinked.
Because—
That just happened.
"You're seriously acting like that was normal?"
No pause.
No second thought.
No reaction.
"…Didn't you feel that?"
I pressed on it.
Because I knew it happened.
I felt it.
Clear as anything else.
And yet—
Nothing.
I stopped.
Pulled back slightly.
Thought about it.
"…Okay. Wait."
Let's break this down.
Two possibilities.
Either—
He didn't feel it at all.
Or—
He did.
And it just… didn't register as anything special.
The second one sat heavier.
Because if that's the case—
Then it's not new to him.
That kind of sensation—
Time slowing.
Heart skipping.
Heightened awareness.
"…Combat."
The answer came naturally.
Adventuring.
Fighting.
Moments where a single mistake matters.
Where your body reacts faster than your thoughts.
That kind of thing—
Would feel familiar.
"…If that's it…"
I trailed off.
Because that led somewhere else.
Then—
That would mean—
He's used to it.
So used to it that even something like that—
Doesn't stand out anymore.
"…That's…"
I paused.
That's not just experience.
That's—
Numbness.
A dulling.
I leaned into that thought for a second.
Then—
Stopped.
"…No."
I shook my head.
Let it go.
"Let's not go there."
Because I didn't know enough.
Not really.
I could feel what he felt.
See what he saw.
But that was it.
His past—
His experiences—
They weren't mine to assume.
Unless he thought about them—
I wouldn't know.
"…So don't jump to conclusions."
That settled it.
For now.
And by the time I reached that point—
He was already moving deeper into the field.
Ai had stopped ahead.
She crouched slightly.
Reached down.
And picked one.
Red.
She held it up.
Between her fingers.
"Redveil Leaf."
Her voice came easier now.
Steady.
Confident.
"It's one of the easiest to identify."
She turned it slightly.
Let the light catch it.
The veins—
Subtle.
Running across the surface like faint lines beneath the skin.
"The color gives it away."
A small pause.
"Harvesting is simple."
She adjusted her grip, pointing to the base.
"Don't pull too hard from the top. You'll damage the leaf and the plant."
Her fingers moved lower.
"Take it from here. Clean cut. Or a firm, controlled pull from the stem."
No hesitation. No uncertainty.
"…Yeah."
She knew this.
"This one's used for healing potions."
She added it casually.
Like it didn't need emphasis.
Viole watched.
Focused.
Then—
Nodded.
"It looks familiar."
His voice was calm.
Even.
"I think I've gathered this before."
That made sense.
Because this—
Was common.
But knowing of it—
And knowing it properly—
Different things.
And now—
That difference was starting to close.
He looked at the leaf for a moment longer.
Then—
"I usually just follow the drawing."
That caught me off guard.
He continued, almost absentmindedly.
"On gathering quests. They give you a sketch… so I look for something close to it."
A small pause.
"If it's not colored… or the drawing's off… it gets harder."
"…Huh."
I blinked.
Because—
That wasn't how he usually talked.
Less clipped.
Less… contained.
More natural.
"…You're a bit more talkative here."
I let that sit.
Not as a callout.
Just an observation.
And then I felt it.
The difference.
The air.
The space.
The quiet.
No noise from the city.
No pressure.
No constant movement.
Just wind.
Grass.
Open sky.
"…Yeah."
That explains it.
This—
Feels like a break.
Not work.
Not survival.
Not obligation.
Just—
Space.
And for once—
He wasn't tense.
I could feel it clearly now.
Relaxed.
Not completely.
But enough.
"…So this is what you're like when you're not on edge."
I exhaled quietly.
"Good to know."
He crouched.
Mirroring her movements almost perfectly.
Hand placement.
Grip.
Angle.
Clean.
Controlled.
He pulled the Redveil Leaf from its base without damaging it.
"…That was fast."
Then—
Under his breath—
"Redveil leaf… for healing."
He stood—
And it hit.
Sharp. Immediate.
The soreness flared through his body.
Muscles tightening, protesting the movement.
"…Yeah, there it is."
I winced instinctively.
Even if it wasn't my body—
I felt it.
"The pain reliever's wearing off."
But him?
Nothing.
No reaction. No complaint.
Just—
Ignored.
"…You're seriously just going to walk that off?"
I shook my head slightly.
Because that wasn't mild discomfort.
That stung.
Ai noticed.
Not the pain—
But the movement.
The way he handled the leaf.
Clean.
Efficient.
Her eyes lingered for a second.
He turned.
Held the leaf out.
She took it.
Placed it into her basket.
"…First one down."
He spoke again.
"Is this the first herb?"
She nodded.
Bright.
"Yes!"
And just like that—
They moved.
Together.
The process repeated.
Crouch.
Observe.
Pick.
Again.
And again.
He didn't hesitate.
Didn't second-guess.
Every movement refined.
Every action deliberate.
"…You learn fast."
I noted quietly.
Because this wasn't guesswork anymore.
It was adaptation.
Within minutes—
The basket had weight.
Ai looked down.
Checked the contents.
Then nodded to herself.
"That's enough."
She straightened.
Turned slightly toward the forest behind them.
"We'll gather the pain reliever herb next. It grows more in shaded areas."
But before moving—
She paused.
Walked a few steps away.
Scanning.
Then crouched.
Pulled one.
Then another.
"…Wait."
I leaned in slightly.
They looked similar.
Too similar.
She held them both up.
Side by side.
"Sunroot."
She lifted one slightly.
"The color's lighter. And the scent—"
She brought it closer.
"—a bit citrus-like."
Then the other.
"Vigor Root."
Slightly deeper tone.
Rougher surface.
"This one's denser."
She tapped it lightly.
"And smells more earthy."
Subtle.
Easy to mix up—
If you didn't know.
"…Yeah, I would've missed that."
She adjusted her grip.
"Harvesting is similar. But you have to be careful not to damage the root."
A small motion.
Loosening the soil slightly before pulling.
Clean extraction.
No breakage.
"…So that's the difference."
Not just what it looks like—
But how you handle it.
And just like that—
The lesson moved forward.
From field—
To forest.
Ai handed the two roots over without hesitation.
"Here."
He took them.
One in each hand.
They looked similar at first glance.
Same general shape.
Same size.
But he didn't stop there.
His grip adjusted slightly.
Thumb brushing against the surface.
Texture. Density.
Then—
Closer.
He brought them near.
Not obvious.
Just enough.
Scent.
I watched him work through it.
Not rushing.
Not guessing.
Comparing.
Color.
Smell.
Weight.
"…Yeah."
That's the right approach.
Ai had already started walking.
Back toward the tree line.
He followed.
Still holding both.
Still processing.
Then—
He spoke.
"What is Sunroot for?"
A small pause.
"And Vigor Root?"
"…There it is."
I let out a quiet breath.
"Now you're asking the right questions."
And honestly—
I got it.
This part—
Felt familiar.
Learning something new.
Breaking it down.
Understanding how things worked.
"…Takes me back."
I thought about it for a second.
Lecture halls. Notes. Late-night reviews before exams.
Different world.
Same process.
"You pay attention when it matters."
I almost smiled.
"Can't blame you."
Because yeah—
When something is useful—
People lean in.
Ai answered without hesitation.
"Sunroot is mainly for stomach-related issues."
She gestured lightly as she walked.
"It helps with digestion. Also used for stomach pain."
Then—
"Vigor Root is for stamina."
A slight shift in tone.
"Reduces fatigue. Helps maintain physical endurance."
Simple.
Clear.
He nodded.
Then—
Another question.
"Why didn't we gather them?"
That made her pause slightly.
Just enough to think.
"I'm still practicing with those."
She admitted it plainly.
"I haven't fully mastered processing them yet."
A small breath.
"Not like healing or mana potions."
Then—
"I still have some stock at home."
"…Oh."
I blinked.
That—
I didn't expect.
Because honestly?
I thought she already had everything down.
She didn't sound unsure earlier.
Didn't look like she was lacking.
But—
That answer?
Grounded.
"…Huh."
I scratched that thought mentally.
Then another one popped up.
A dumb one.
"…Wait."
I paused.
"I've played RPGs."
A lot.
Potions.
Healing.
Mana.
Buffs.
All standard.
"…But I've never actually thought about how they're made."
I stared at that realization.
"…That's kind of stupid."
I let out a quiet laugh.
Because yeah—
You use them all the time.
Never question the process.
And now—
Here it was.
Right in front of me.
"…This is actually interesting."
I leaned forward slightly.
Mentally.
"Ask her."
I nudged.
Even if he couldn't hear it.
"Ask how they're made."
No response.
Obviously.
Still—
I stuck with it.
Ai spoke again before that could happen.
"We'll gather the pain reliever herb next."
He looked ahead.
Toward the trees.
"Why that one?"
Good.
Another question.
"It's easier to process."
She answered.
"Not as complicated as others."
Then—
"In the village, it's used a lot."
A small pause.
"Most of the people here are older."
That made sense.
"They need it regularly."
Then she added—
"And when I sell in Sunridge… adventurers buy it too."
"…Yeah."
That tracks.
Injuries.
Strain.
Recovery.
Constant demand.
Practical.
He didn't respond.
Not outwardly.
But—
A thought surfaced.
Familiar.
The herb.
The one he brewed earlier.
Before leaving.
Bitter.
Sharp.
Lingering.
"…That might be the same thing."
He didn't say it.
Didn't confirm.
Just—
Noted it.
And I caught it.
"…Yeah."
That lines up.
Which meant—
He'd already used it.
Without fully knowing what it was.
"…That's funny."
I exhaled quietly.
Learning it after the fact.
Not before.
The walk didn't take long.
The trees thickened slightly, the light dimming just enough to cool the air further.
Ai slowed.
Then—
"There it is."
She pointed.
Viole followed her gaze.
Low-growing.
Grey.
Soft-looking petals clustered close to the ground.
"…So that's it."
He didn't react outwardly.
Just observed.
It didn't feel familiar.
"What is it called?"
"Dullpetal."
She crouched as she answered.
"Pain reliever herb."
Her hands moved carefully.
Not rushed.
Not forceful.
"Don't grab the petals directly."
She demonstrated.
"Hold near the base. Then pull gently."
Clean.
No tearing.
Viole crouched beside her.
The moment he lowered himself—
Pain.
Sharp.
Stinging.
Muscles protesting immediately.
"…Yeah, that's still there."
I winced slightly.
But him?
Ignored.
Again.
He adjusted his position.
Watched her hands.
Then—
Copied.
Grip.
Angle.
Pressure.
Pulled.
Clean.
"…You're kidding."
That was fast.
He picked another.
Then another.
No hesitation.
No mistakes.
"…You're adapting way too quickly."
He gathered a few.
Turned.
Handed them over.
Ai took them.
Placed them into her basket.
She paused for a second.
Just a second.
Surprised.
But didn't say anything.
He stood.
And—
There it was again.
Pain surged through his legs and torso.
Sharper this time.
Lingering.
"…You're really pushing it."
I muttered.
He moved anyway.
A few steps to the side.
Another cluster.
Then—
A thought.
And it caught me off guard.
"…Wait."
It formed slowly.
Simple.
Direct.
If processed herbs are effective…
Wouldn't raw ones be more potent?
"…No."
I blinked.
"No, no, no—"
Before I could even finish that thought—
He acted.
Reached down.
Picked a few Dullpetals.
"…You're not—"
He was.
Straight into his mouth.
"…YOU ARE."
He started chewing.
"…What are you doing?!"
Ai saw it too.
"Eh? Viole?"
She froze.
Completely.
"What are you doing?"
He turned slightly.
Still chewing.
"If herbs are already effective when processed…"
He spoke casually.
As if this made perfect sense.
"…then raw should be more effective."
"…That logic is insane."
I stared.
And then—
It hit.
The taste.
Bitter.
No—
Not just bitter.
Violent.
It flooded instantly.
Sharp.
Overwhelming.
Coating everything.
"…WHAT IS THAT?!"
It was worse than the one earlier.
Way worse.
His tongue—
Numb.
But not in a good way.
"…Spit it out—spit it out!"
He didn't even need convincing.
His expression didn't change much—
But I felt it.
Regret.
Immediate.
Ai blinked once.
Twice.
Then—
Her expression broke.
"…Pfft—"
She turned away slightly—
But it didn't help.
She burst out laughing.
Not controlled.
Not held back.
Genuine.
And him—
Already turning away—
Trying to get the herbs out of his mouth as fast as possible.
"…Yeah."
I exhaled through the chaos.
"That's on you."
He heard it.
Her laughter.
Light.
Unrestrained.
He turned back after spitting everything out.
Looked at her.
Still laughing.
Shoulders slightly shaking.
Trying—and failing—to hold it in.
He didn't say anything.
Couldn't.
His tongue—
Still numb.
"…Yeah."
I let out a quiet breath.
A thought surfaced from him.
Simple. Dry.
So that's why it's called Dullpetal.
"…You know what? Fair."
I almost laughed again.
His gaze stayed.
On her.
Not long.
But longer than usual.
And then—
Another thought.
She looks happy.
It came quietly.
Without weight.
Without resistance.
Just—
Noted.
And then—
It didn't stop there.
It continued.
When was the last time…
The thought slowed.
Shifted.
…I felt happy?
That—
Felt different.
The field.
The breeze.
The faint numbness still lingering in his mouth—
Everything blended.
And something in him—
Turned inward.
He traced it back.
Without trying.
Days. Months. Years.
Survival. Work. Routine.
One thing after another.
No pause. No space.
Since—
They died.
The thought settled.
Flat.
No visible reaction.
But I felt it.
That shift.
And then—
A question.
Do I need to be happy to survive?
"…That's…"
I didn't finish it.
Because I didn't have an answer either.
And he didn't wait for one.
The thought didn't resolve.
Didn't conclude.
It just—
Hung there.
Then—
It stopped.
Ai moved.
Closer.
"Hey—Viole?"
Her voice cut through.
Her hand reached out.
Light.
Shaking his shoulder gently.
"Are you okay?"
There was a bottle in her other hand.
Small.
Pulled from the pouch at her waist.
"…Utility pouch."
I noted absently.
Because yeah—that's what it was.
She held it out to him.
Concerned now.
Not laughing anymore.
Whatever she saw just now—
It wasn't nothing.
He blinked.
Snapped back.
The field returned.
The air.
The moment.
He nodded.
"…I'm fine."
A beat.
"I just… got lost in thought."
He took the bottle.
Drank.
Water cut through the lingering bitterness.
Cleared it.
"…Much better."
He handed it back.
Nothing had happened.
Not really. No comment. No reaction.
No shift from him.
And yet—
There it was.
"…I don't get it."
She took the bottle back.
Held it close.
Then asked again.
"Are you really okay?"
He answered simply.
"Yes."
Flat. Even.
Like nothing happened.
"…You really don't know what that looked like, do you?"
I muttered.
Felt it.
That moment earlier—
It wasn't empty.
It wasn't neutral.
It was—
"…Strange."
It felt like sinking.
Not falling.
Not drowning.
Just—
Descending.
Slow. Quiet.
Deep water.
But he could breathe.
Could move.
Could come back up.
And yet—
He didn't.
"…Yeah."
I exhaled softly.
"That's the closest I've got."
Not sadness.
Not exactly.
Something else.
Something he didn't even try to name.
He nodded once.
Then—
"We should continue."
Just like that.
Back to task.
No mention of what just happened.
No embarrassment.
No hesitation.
"…You're really just moving on."
I watched him crouch again.
Reach.
Pick.
Clean.
Efficient.
Like nothing broke the flow.
"…Not even a little embarrassed, huh."
I let out a quiet breath.
Because most people would've—
Paused.
Reacted.
At least acknowledged it.
But him?
Nothing.
"…I think I'm starting to get it."
The thought came slowly.
Not forced.
He is twenty.
That much I knew.
And four years ago—
Sixteen.
"…Yeah."
That lines up.
And then—
They were gone.
No transition.
No buffer.
Just—
Gone.
"…So you had to grow up."
Not physically.
That part comes anyway.
But mentally.
Fast.
Because if you didn't—
You wouldn't make it.
I watched his movements.
Measured.
Deliberate.
Nothing wasted.
Everything had purpose.
"…Systematic."
That word fit too well.
Efficiency.
Control.
Minimal loss.
Even in how he dealt with people.
Transactions.
Give and take.
No excess.
No debt.
"…You don't want to owe anyone."
Because owing meant risk.
Dependence.
Uncertainty.
So you balance everything.
Keep it even.
"…Yeah."
That made sense.
I exhaled slowly.
"It's not just that you're awkward."
That's part of it.
Sure.
But it's not the core.
"You just… didn't get the time."
Sixteen—
You're supposed to figure things out.
Try things.
Fail at things.
Learn what emotions feel like.
Not just recognize them—
Actually experience them.
Friends.
Messing around.
Doing stupid things for no reason.
Maybe even—
Falling for someone.
Simple things.
Normal things.
"…You didn't get that."
Because instead—
You got responsibility.
Survival.
And that replaced everything else.
"…Your last memory of them…"
I paused there.
Leaving. Going to help.
Dungeon outbreak.
And then—
Nothing.
"…Yeah."
I leaned back from that thought.
Because that was enough.
And then—
Another one surfaced.
Quieter.
"…I was lucky."
It felt strange to say that here.
Like this.
But it was true.
I had time.
I grew up at my own pace.
Had my parents around.
Had space to figure things out.
"…Even if I'm stuck like this now…"
I let out a quiet breath.
"That part of my life wasn't rushed."
And that mattered more than I realized
The thought lingered.
Then—
"Um…"
Ai's voice.
Soft. Careful.
It pulled me back.
Viole stopped.
Looked up.
She hesitated for a second.
Then—
"Earlier…"
A small pause.
"You tried to eat the Dullpetal…"
"…Yeah."
I almost winced again just remembering it.
"You said it was because of potency…"
She continued.
Then—
More directly.
"…Are you in pain?"
There it was.
Simple.
But—
Clear.
Concern.
He answered.
Direct.
"Yesterday."
A small pause.
"I ended up in a party with four new adventurers."
No embellishment.
No dramatization.
"Goblin extermination commission."
Another pause.
"It turned into a rescue."
I followed the flow.
Images lining up through his memory as he spoke.
Then—
"The cave."
"Undead dire wolf."
"…Yeah."
I remembered that part.
The fight.
The pressure.
He continued.
"I used Flash Step too much."
That one—
Carried weight.
The first skill his father taught him.
And he pushed it.
Hard.
"My body's still sore."
Simple.
Factual.
No complaint.
"Mira healed the wounds."
A slight shift.
"But muscle strain… was beyond her."
That made sense.
"So I bought pain reliever herbs."
"Fifty copper."
"…Not cheap."
I noted.
"Used all of it."
Then—
A slight pause.
"It tasted awful."
"…Understatement."
I almost laughed.
"And when I saw the Dullpetal…"
He glanced briefly at the plant nearby.
"I thought raw might be more potent."
A beat.
"And shouldn't taste worse."
"…That's where you went wrong."
I exhaled.
Ai listened.
Quietly.
No interruption.
No judgment.
Then—
A soft chuckle slipped out.
Not mocking.
Just—
Amused.
"Dullpetals are naturally bitter."
She said it gently.
"That's actually why we process them."
She crouched slightly again, picking one up.
"To reduce that bitterness."
Her fingers brushed over the petals.
"For this one, it's simple."
She continued.
"You dry it."
"Sun-drying works."
A small gesture toward the open sky.
"Or low heat. Like an oven."
"Once dried, the effect becomes easier to handle."
"…So raw isn't stronger."
I muttered.
"It's just worse."
But she didn't stop there.
Her tone shifted again.
Subtle.
But clear.
More focused.
More engaged.
"…Here we go."
I leaned in slightly.
"Most herbs follow similar preparation steps."
She continued.
"Harvesting matters first."
She held the Dullpetal up.
"Same plant can vary depending on soil, timing, and maturity."
"…Right."
That tracks.
"Then preparation."
She went on.
"Drying, crushing, slicing… depending on what you need."
Her hands moved lightly as she spoke.
"The goal is to bring out the herb's properties without damaging it."
Then—
A small pause.
"But potions…"
Her eyes lit up just a bit.
"…Yeah."
I caught that immediately.
Different tone.
More energy.
"Potions are more complex."
"There's extraction."
She explained.
"You boil, infuse, or distill the herbs to pull out their active parts."
"Both physical and… mana-related."
"…Mana."
Right.
"Raw mana inside herbs is unstable."
She added.
"Alchemy stabilizes it."
That—
Felt important.
Then—
Another layer.
"You also need something to bind it."
"A catalyst."
She tapped lightly against her pouch.
"It gives the potion a 'signature' so it interacts properly with the body."
"…Okay."
That was new.
"Then stabilization."
She continued.
"Cooling, filtering… making sure it doesn't degrade or turn harmful."
A small breath.
"And finally—bottling."
She smiled slightly.
"Even the container matters."
"…That's a lot more involved than I expected."
I admitted quietly.
Then she added—
"Some steps can be simplified… once you get used to it."
"…Of course."
I leaned back slightly.
Because yeah—
That was a process.
Not something you just—
Throw together.
And suddenly—
Everything clicked a bit more.
Why she said she hadn't mastered everything yet.
Why different potions had different levels.
Why raw herbs weren't the answer.
"…You really were about to brute-force potion making with your mouth."
I shook my head.
"Unbelievable."
She was still talking.
Same pace. Same clarity. Same focus.
And he was watching.
Not the same as before.
The first time she slipped into this—he reacted. A quiet chuckle. A small shift. Something light.
Now—
Nothing.
Or not nothing.
He was listening.
Actually listening.
No wasted attention. No drifting. No pulling away.
Just… taking it in.
"…Huh."
That was new.
I watched him watch her.
Eyes steady.
Posture relaxed.
No visible reaction—
But the kind that meant something was landing.
So that's the difference.
Before—he observed.
Now—he understood.
…Or at least, he was trying to.
Then—
A sound.
Low.
Short.
"…Wait."
There it was again.
A soft, unmistakable growl.
Silence followed.
And then—
Her.
She froze.
Ah.
Right.
Her.
Again.
Her shoulders stiffened just slightly.
Then—
Color.
Rising fast.
Yeah.
No getting used to that.
Not the first time.
Definitely not the second.
I almost sighed.
"You'd think she'd learn."
But no.
Still just as effective.
Viole heard it too.
Of course he did.
And for once—
He reacted.
Barely.
A small shift in his chest.
A faint lift—
Then—
A chuckle.
Quiet.
Contained.
He tried to hide it.
…Tried.
"Yeah, no."
I shook my head.
"I felt that."
Not loud.
Not teasing.
Just—
There.
Ai, meanwhile—
Still red.
Still frozen.
And then—
He moved.
His gaze lifted.
Sky.
Bright.
Clear.
Sun—
High.
"…Noon already."
That tracked.
Without a word, his hand moved.
The basket at his waist.
Untied. Lifted.
Then—
Simple.
"Want to eat?"
Direct.
No hesitation.
"I know you missed breakfast."
"…Smooth."
I blinked.
That—
Was surprisingly clean.
Then—
"Is there somewhere we can sit?"
Practical.
Efficient.
No wasted space.
Ai blinked.
Still a bit flustered.
Still recovering.
But she answered.
"…T-The lake."
A small pause.
"Lake Sereneveil… there's space there."
He nodded.
Of course he did.
Decision made.
But—
She didn't move.
He didn't either.
And just like that—
They stood there.
Facing each other.
Silent.
"…No way."
Seconds passed.
Nothing.
Just—
Eye contact.
Blank.
"…You're both useless."
I exhaled slowly.
Then—
It clicked.
Her eyes shifted.
A small jolt of realization.
"Oh."
Right.
She turned.
Finally.
And stepped forward.
Leading the way.
The walk didn't take long.
Same path. Same quiet.
But—
Not the same silence.
Before, it felt… off.
Like something was missing.
Like one of them should've said something, but didn't.
Now—
It just was.
No pressure.
No expectation.
And honestly—
I didn't mind it.
I watched the two of them move ahead.
Ai in front.
Still a little stiff.
Still recovering from earlier.
Viole behind.
Same pace.
Same distance.
Neither trying to fill the space.
"…Huh."
I leaned into the thought a bit.
Ai isn't bad at talking.
That part became clearer.
It's not that she can't hold a conversation.
It's that—
She doesn't have much to pull from.
Village life.
Elders.
Kids.
Limited overlap.
People her age?
Gone.
Different paths.
Adventurers.
Trades.
Cities.
And she stayed.
Of course it'd be like that.
You don't build conversational rhythm if there's no one to match it with.
Meanwhile—
Viole.
Different problem.
He can talk.
But—
Doesn't.
Not unless there's a reason.
Not unless it serves something.
Because somewhere along the way—
He learned that everything had to.
I exhaled quietly.
Parents gone.
No transition.
No buffer.
Just—
Gone.
And after that?
Survive.
Figure it out.
No space to hesitate.
No room to be unsure.
You either keep going—
Or you don't.
"…Yeah."
That kind of thing doesn't just disappear.
It sticks.
Shapes everything after.
How you think.
How you act.
How you don't act.
And me?
I let out a small breath.
Funny thing is—
I'm only realizing all this now.
Because I can see it.
Up close.
Too close, maybe.
And then—
Another thought.
"…Why am I so okay with this?"
No panic.
No breakdown.
Just—
Observing.
Adjusting.
Adapting.
I already knew the answer before I even finished asking.
Games.
Stories.
Anime.
I've seen this setup before.
Hell—
At some point, I even wished for it.
Getting isekai'd.
New world.
New life.
"…Yeah."
I gave a dry mental laugh.
"This isn't what I had in mind."
Because I didn't come here as me.
I'm not the one walking.
Not the one choosing.
I'm—
Watching.
A spectator.
"…Didn't think I'd draw that role."
The thought lingered.
But not for long.
Because then—
The trees began to thin.
Light shifted.
Brighter.
Softer.
And then—
It opened.
Lake Sereneveil.
Clear.
Still.
The surface caught the sky perfectly.
A faint mist hovered just above the water, thin enough to see through, thick enough to soften everything beyond it.
The breeze changed.
Cooler.
Cleaner.
The kind that settles on your skin without asking.
Viole didn't say anything.
Of course he didn't.
But—
There it was again.
That shift.
Subtle.
But unmistakable.
His heart—
Skipped.
His breath held for a moment.
"…Again?"
Same as before.
Not tension.
Not danger.
Just—
That.
I stayed quiet.
Watched it.
Felt it.
And this time—
I understood.
"…So that's what it was."
Not Ai.
Not exactly.
Not romance.
Not attraction.
Something else. Something simpler.
New.
Beautiful.
And unfamiliar.
That kind of reaction—
Doesn't need a label.
Especially not for someone like him.
Because if you've never stopped long enough to feel it—
How would you even name it?
I let the thought settle.
"…Yeah."
That made more sense.
Way more.
She slowed.
Just slightly.
Then stopped.
A few steps ahead—an open patch.
Grass.
Short. Even. Soft enough to sit on without thinking twice.
Close to the water.
Not too close.
Viole didn't hesitate. He moved ahead of her and sat first.
And there it was.
The soreness.
It hit the moment his weight settled—muscles tightening, a dull sting spreading through his legs and back. The herbal medicine from earlier had clearly worn off.
I felt it too. Not sharp. Not overwhelming. Just… present.
Persistent.
He didn't react. Not even a twitch. Just set the basket down beside him like nothing happened.
He opened it without pause.
First—the wooden cylinder.
Miso soup.
Still warm. I could tell the moment he held it. The container did its job well. Heat preserved, sealed tight. Simple, but reliable.
Then the lunch box. Wooden. Two compartments.
He paused.
Just for a second.
Ah.
No plate.
I caught the realization the same moment he did.
And just as quickly—
Dismissed.
Because he already had a solution.
Ai stayed standing nearby, watching. Quiet. Not interrupting. Not helping either. Just… observing.
Curious, maybe.
Or just letting him do his thing.
Viole untied the lunch box.
Opened it cleanly.
First compartment—fried chicken.
He lifted it.
Then flipped it over—carefully, controlled—onto the lid without removing it first. The pieces slid neatly onto the surface, using the lid itself as a makeshift plate.
…Okay.
That was smooth.
I'll give him that.
No hesitation. No fumbling. Just—problem, solution, done.
He set the now-empty compartment down and reached for the second.
Rice.
Packed tight.
He pulled out a wooden spoon from the basket and split it cleanly. Half transferred into the compartment with the chicken. The rest stayed behind.
Balanced. Practical.
No wasted motion.
No unnecessary thought.
And just like that—
Lunch.
He looked up at Ai.
Still standing.
Still watching him.
"Sit," he said, simple and direct. "Let's eat."
No flourish. No awkwardness.
Just an invitation.
I shifted my focus to her.
Waiting to see what she'd do next.
Ai hesitated—but she did sit.
Careful. Slow. Keeping just enough distance, like she wasn't sure how close was acceptable.
Her hands rested on her lap.
She didn't reach for the food.
…Yeah.
Still shy.
Viole noticed.
Of course he did.
He picked up one of the compartments—the one with the rice and chicken—and held it out to her. Along with a wooden fork and spoon, already prepared.
"Here."
Simple. No pressure in his voice.
Then he opened the wooden cylinder. Steam slipped out, faint but visible in the cooler air.
"Miso soup," he said. "Have some."
A brief pause.
"I made enough for two."
That got her attention.
He set the lid beside them and continued, just as casually.
"We might be out the whole day. No time to cook."
A small shift of his gaze—not quite toward her, not quite away.
"It's the least I can do. You're teaching me."
There was no weight behind it. No awkwardness.
Just… a statement.
And then—
A soft, unmistakable sound.
Her stomach.
It growled. Again.
I almost laughed.
Ai froze.
For a second, maybe two. Her face turned slightly red, shoulders tightening as if she could somehow hide it after the fact.
…Too late for that.
She looked down at the food in her hands.
Then, slowly—carefully—
She accepted.
"Th-Thank you…"
Viole nodded once.
No teasing. No reaction.
Just acknowledgment.
And then his attention shifted forward.
To the lake.
Conversation—done.
He picked up his own portion.
Poured the miso soup over the rice first. The steam rose again, carrying that warm, savory scent.
Then the chicken.
Crisp outside. Tender inside. I could feel the texture the moment he bit into it. The contrast was clean. The seasoning—balanced. Not overpowering.
…Okay.
That's actually really good.
He didn't react.
Of course he didn't.
His cooking. Expected result. Nothing to comment on.
I, on the other hand—
Yeah, no, that deserves recognition.
Ai mirrored him.
Carefully at first. Watching his movements, then copying them. Soup over rice. Spoon ready.
A piece of chicken in hand.
She took a bite.
And—
Her entire expression changed.
Eyes widened. Not dramatically, but enough. Shoulders loosened. That hesitation from earlier—gone, just like that.
"This… is really good…" she said, almost to herself at first.
Then a bit more certain, "The soup—it's warm, and the rice…" She took another bite, quicker this time. "And the chicken—it's so savory…"
Honest.
Unfiltered.
Viole swallowed his food before responding.
Looked at her.
Gave a small nod.
"Thanks."
And that was it.
No lingering on the compliment.
No visible pride.
Just acceptance.
Then his gaze returned to the lake.
And he kept eating.
…Quiet again.
But not the same kind.
The kind that settles, not presses.
Another bite.
Another breath.
Then—
"You should take better care of yourself."
It came out of nowhere.
No buildup. No change in tone. Just dropped into the space between them like it belonged there.
I paused.
Ai did too.
Viole continued eating like he hadn't just said something that—depending on how you look at it—could mean a lot more than it sounded.
"I don't know your routine," he added. "But you shouldn't skip meals."
A small pause.
"Especially breakfast."
His tone didn't change. Still flat. Still calm.
"Your work's physical. You need the energy."
I blinked.
Internally, but still.
That was… direct.
From the outside, it sounds like concern.
Like he's worried.
But from where I'm standing—
That's not what this is.
This is logic.
Practical. Straightforward.
Still—
The way he said it…
Too natural.
Like it didn't even occur to him that it might come off differently.
Ai didn't respond immediately.
Viole kept going.
"Missing one or two meals won't make you sick right away," he said. "But it builds up."
He set his spoon down briefly.
"If you're not used to it, you could collapse."
A small shift in his posture. Subtle.
"Outside, that's dangerous."
A beat.
"Indoors can be worse. You might hit your head on something hard—"
He didn't finish the sentence.
Didn't need to.
"Your body needs food," he added simply. "To function. To recover. To keep from getting sick."
There it is.
Clean. Logical. No emotion attached.
Then—
"If you get sick, no one's there to help you."
That one lingered a bit more.
"Your house is far from the village. No one would know."
Another bite of rice. Calm. Unbothered.
"And if you can't work, you can't make potions."
A glance at her. Brief. Calculating, not soft.
"People rely on those."
There it is again.
Not you.
Your role. Your function. Your responsibility.
From his perspective—
This is just how things work.
Miss a day → lose income.
Get sick → can't work.
Can't work → everything stops.
Simple.
But—
I frowned. Slightly.
Because even if he doesn't realize it—
Even if he's framing it as practicality—
That last part…
Didn't sound entirely detached.
Not completely.
Ai stayed quiet. Holding her spoon a little tighter than before.
Viole picked up his spoon again and continued eating.
Like nothing had happened.
Ai hesitated for a moment longer.
Then—
"…Umm."
A small nod followed.
Agreement. Or at least, something close enough to it.
She didn't push back. Didn't question him.
Just accepted it and moved on.
Viole didn't react.
To him, that exchange was already over the moment he said what needed to be said.
And just like that, the conversation shifted.
Ai took another bite before speaking again, a little more settled this time.
"Where… did you learn to cook?"
Simple question.
But I could feel the shift behind it.
Curiosity. Genuine this time.
Viole didn't pause.
"My mother," he said.
Direct.
He scooped another spoonful of rice.
"I watched her cook."
A small beat.
"She also wrote a cookbook."
That caught my attention.
He continued, tone unchanged.
"I learned the basics from her. Then practiced on my own."
Another bite. Chew. Swallow.
"I had to."
A pause.
"My parents aren't around anymore."
There it is.
Dropped the same way he says everything else.
Flat. Unweighted. Like a fact you file away, not something you dwell on.
Ai noticed.
Of course she did.
Her movements slowed just a little.
Just enough to register it.
But—
She didn't ask.
Didn't pry.
Good call.
"…I see," she said instead, quietly.
She looked down at her food again.
Then, after a moment—
"I can cook too. Just… not like this."
She gave a small, almost embarrassed smile.
"I learned alchemy first. Potions, mixtures… things like that."
Another bite.
"I can make simple food. Boiled potatoes. Eggs. Vegetables…"
A slight pause.
"…Mostly boiled."
I almost laughed again.
She continued, more thoughtful now.
"With alchemy, everything is exact. Measurements, timing, steps…"
Her grip on the spoon shifted slightly as she tried to explain it.
"But cooking…"
She shook her head a little.
"It's different."
There was a hint of frustration there.
Not strong. Just lingering.
"There's a book about cooking at home too," she added. "I tried following it exactly once."
A brief pause.
"…I almost burned the kitchen."
Yeah.
That tracks.
Viole listened.
Fully. Quietly.
No interruptions. No reactions.
But I could tell—
He understood.
Because that was exactly how it started for him too.
Watching.
Trying.
Failing.
Adjusting.
Not everything written translates cleanly into practice.
He finished eating first.
Set the empty compartment down beside him.
Then looked at her.
"Teach me how to process dullpetal," he said. "And other herbs. The ones that don't need special equipment."
Straight to the point.
Ai blinked.
Pulled out of her thoughts.
"Oh—right."
She straightened slightly, shifting gears almost instantly.
"The easiest way for dullpetal is drying," she said.
"Wash it first. Then leave it under the sun for a few days."
Her tone became more certain now. Familiar territory.
"Once it's dried, you can grind it or brew it as it is."
She gestured lightly with her spoon as she explained.
"That works for leaves and petals. But roots are different. And stems too—they need more processing depending on the type."
Viole nodded once.
Taking it in. Storing it.
I did the same.
Simple.
But useful.
Ai kept eating as she spoke.
Then—
She noticed.
His side was already empty.
Her pace changed immediately.
Faster bites. Less chewing. Trying to catch up.
Ah.
There it is again.
Viole noticed too.
"Slow down," he said.
No edge in his voice.
Just firm.
"We're not in a hurry."
She paused mid-motion.
He added, "I've already learned a lot."
A slight shift of his gaze toward the surrounding area.
"Now I just need to see the actual herbs."
A small pause.
"To recognize them properly when I take a gathering commission."
Practical. As always.
Ai looked at him for a moment.
Then down at her food.
Her grip on the spoon loosened slightly.
And this time—
She slowed down.
The conversation tapered off naturally after that.
No clear ending. Just silence settling back in.
Not awkward.
Just… full.
Viole's gaze stayed on the lake for a moment longer.
Then he shifted.
Lowered himself onto the grass and lay back, arms relaxed at his sides. Eyes closed.
Not sleep.
I could tell immediately.
His breathing didn't change enough for that. His awareness—still there. Still sharp.
He was just… taking it in.
The air.
The distant sound of water.
The quiet.
…Right.
This isn't something he gets often.
And once we head back—
Yeah.
Gone again.
While his eyes stayed closed, he spoke.
"You want to learn how to cook?"
It came out casually. Almost like an afterthought.
"When you come to the city."
A small pause.
"To sell your potions."
I caught the shift right after.
A brief thought.
Timing. Schedule. Commissions.
Would he even have time?
…
He dismissed it just as quickly.
He'll make time.
Simple as that.
A thought surfaced again—unprompted.
Why did he even ask that?
Teaching her how to cook.
Offering his time like that.
It didn't fit.
Not with how he usually did things.
He turned it over briefly.
...
Then—
A simple answer settled in.
Returning the favor.
She was teaching him. Taking time out of her day. Sharing knowledge he didn't have.
This balances it. Nothing more.
…And.
Another layer, quieter but just as clear.
He had already decided.
He'd buy potions from her whenever she came to the city.
Reliable source. Consistent quality.
Convenient.
Which meant—
He couldn't afford her to get sick.
Couldn't collapse from something as simple as skipping meals.
That would be… inefficient.
For her.
For him.
The thought settled cleanly into place.
Practical.
Reasonable.
No need to look deeper than that.
Ai had already finished eating by then.
She sat there, quiet.
Processing.
I felt it in the pause before she answered.
"…I…"
She hesitated.
Didn't say yes.
Didn't say no.
But she reacted.
That alone said enough.
Then she asked, more carefully this time, "Will you have time?"
A small shift in her tone.
"You have work. Commissions…"
Reasonable concern.
Viole didn't open his eyes.
"It's fine," he said.
No elaboration.
No justification.
Just—fine.
Ai looked at him for a moment.
Then nodded slightly.
"…I'll think about it."
Not rejection.
Not acceptance.
Consideration.
Then she stood.
Movement breaking the stillness.
"We should get going," she said. "So you have enough time to walk back."
A brief pause as she brushed off her clothes.
"I'll show you the other herbs around Lunareth Village."
She glanced toward the surrounding area.
"So you can recognize them."
Practical.
Viole opened his eyes.
The light shifted slightly as his vision adjusted.
Then he sat up and began packing everything back into the basket.
Clean.
Organized.
Nothing left behind.
As he worked, a thought surfaced.
…That was easy.
Learning.
Understanding.
Too easy.
He tied the basket shut.
Maybe it's because of her.
Ai's explanations were clear. Structured.
Even someone with almost no background—
Could follow.
He stood.
And I felt it again.
That faint soreness from earlier.
Still there.
Still ignored.
He picked up the basket and followed after her.
"Where to next?" he asked.
Ai slowed just enough to walk beside him instead of ahead.
"There are a few more that grow around here," she said.
She gestured lightly toward a patch off the path.
"Clearmint Leaf."
Bright green leaves stood out against the surrounding grass. Clean. Fresh-looking even from a distance.
"You can recognize it by the smell," she added. "Cool. Sharp."
"It's used for stomach issues. Mild toxins too."
Simple. Easy to remember.
They walked a little further.
Then she pointed again.
"Frostleaf."
Paler. Softer in color.
Almost… cold, just from how it looked.
"It helps with fever," she explained. "And breathing problems."
A small pause.
"It's cool to the touch. That's how you know it's real."
Noted.
She continued walking, then slowed again near another patch—less noticeable this time.
"Greenlace Herb grows around here too," she said.
Thin strands, clustered low. Easy to overlook if you didn't know what to look for.
"It doesn't heal on its own," she added. "But it improves potions. Makes them more stable."
Support type.
Important.
"And Silverbud," she continued, glancing briefly toward a more shaded area.
"It's rarer."
A small, almost offhand remark.
"I already grow some at home."
Efficient.
No need to rely on chance if you can cultivate it yourself.
Viole listened.
Watched.
Memorized.
Step by step.
Detail by detail.
This part—
Yeah.
This is going to stick.