"Haha, the frosted sugar bread made by the Solid Wood Uncles is the best."
Along a quiet path, a girl with long, light-green hair walked side by side with a teenager wearing a colorful hat. The boy clutched a parchment bag full of bread, while the girl delicately held a small piece of pale-white bread, taking tiny bites—like a fawn drinking from a stream.
Diccito, playing the role of a "know-it-all" guide, introduced the small town of Niailan while occasionally stealing glances at the newly acquainted Bilan. The way she nibbled on the bread was simply too adorable. Though the delicious bread Diccito had longed for was now being eaten by someone else, he didn't feel the slightest bit disappointed. Instead, he felt strangely happy.
"To be able to walk with Bilan… bread and other things are trivial."
Diccito secretly praised his own quick thinking in offering to "help carry the bread."
As Diccito rambled on about Niailan's customs, Bilan found herself more entertained by his antics than by the town itself. Of course, she knew he was deliberately trying to impress her, but this attempt at flattery felt different from what she was used to. It was pure and unrefined, a reflection of his genuine innocence—something entirely absent among the noble boys she had encountered before.
"Speaking of which… Bilan, why did you come to Niailan?"
After passionately describing his bardic ambitions and "great ideals," Diccito suddenly realized he knew nothing about Bilan's reasons for being here. The question slipped out naturally.
"Me? I'm here to visit my mentor. I'm a little mage~."
Bilan knew that most ordinary people feared professionals. Normally, if she wanted to keep a conversation going, it would be wiser to hide her identity as a mage apprentice. Yet, for some reason, she didn't want to lie to Diccito. In front of this straightforward boy, concealing her identity felt… unnecessary.
"Maybe he'll show fear in his eyes and quickly distance himself…"
A pang of nervousness crept into Bilan's heart. She had seen it too many times—how servants would shift from excitement to fear the moment they learned she was a mage. She had long grown accustomed to the way ordinary people avoided her… or had she?
"Whoa~! Miss Bilan is actually a mage? That's amazing!"
Diccito's reaction contained no fear or unease. Instead, he looked at her with pure admiration. After all, becoming a professional was not easy.
In truth, Bilan had been overthinking. As a bard who had traveled alongside an old minstrel since childhood, Diccito had met many professionals. Thanks to his mentor's teachings, he didn't share the common folk's fear of mages.
Bilan stared at Diccito, momentarily stunned.
For the first time since becoming an apprentice alchemist, someone had sincerely praised her. Amid the cold indifference of her family, the mockery of her peers, and the empty flattery of noble suitors, Bilan had nearly forgotten what genuine admiration felt like.
"You're here to visit your mentor? Well, there is a mage in Niailan, but… wait! You're not talking about the one on the eastern hills, are you?"
The moment Diccito processed the words "visit my mentor," his expression shifted to one of concern.
"Yes… My mentor is Mr. Punk."
Snapped out of her daze, Bilan instinctively answered before realizing why Diccito sounded so alarmed.
"That mage is terrifying! I heard he sneaks out on dark, windy nights to catch disobedient children and turn them into stew!"
Trying to lighten the mood, Diccito waved his hands wildly, baring his teeth in a playful attempt to scare her. It was one of the many ghost stories the townspeople whispered about the mysterious Punk.
"Pfft!"
Watching Diccito flail around in his white robe, awkwardly imitating a beast's roar, Bilan burst into laughter.
"Oh, so this is just a children's tale? I heard Lord Punk is an incredible alchemist."
She flicked Diccito's forehead with a teasing smirk.
"Ow! Well, that's just what the townspeople say."
Diccito chuckled while rubbing his forehead. But after the laughter faded, his expression turned serious.
"But you should still be careful. I heard terrible roars coming from that hill recently… creepy and unsettling."
Bilan met Diccito's worried gaze. She could tell he was genuinely concerned for her—pure and unfiltered.
"Don't worry. Master Punk is just conducting experiments. He's not as terrifying as you think."
Although she forced a reassuring smile, Bilan's heart remained uneasy. Her words were meant to comfort Diccito, but deep down, they were also meant to comfort herself.
A gentle breeze carried light-pink petals through the air. As spring approached its end, the flowers of the season rushed to bloom in their final days. Petals drifted from the branches, swirling in the sky like soft fragments of color.
The two stood on the quiet stone-paved path, scattered petals dotting the ground.
Neither spoke.
A delicate silence lingered between them, swaying softly in the breeze.
Overwhelmed by a strange mix of emotions, Bilan was the first to break the quiet. A new, unfamiliar feeling surged within her—leaving her flustered, yet strangely sweet.
"I… I should go visit my mentor. I don't want to be late."
She didn't know why, but she suddenly felt the urge to escape this moment. The silence, the warmth, the way her heart was pounding—it was too much.
"…Do you want another piece of bread?"
Diccito, desperately trying to say something—anything—blurted out the first thought that came to mind. Immediately, he scolded himself internally. Where were all the elegant lines and poetic phrases when he needed them?
"…No, that's enough. See you next time."
Without looking back, Bilan quickened her pace toward the White Tower. Right now, her mind was too occupied with the strange emotions swirling within her. The fear of meeting Punk no longer mattered.
Standing there, parchment bag in hand, Diccito watched her retreating figure.
Suddenly, he remembered something.
"…I sing in the square every morning. You have to come listen when you have time."
"…Got it."
Her voice—distant, yet clear—floated back to him.
Diccito's heart filled with uncontrollable joy. For a moment, he felt the urge to roll around in excitement, but he forced himself to take a deep breath.
Slowly, he reached into the parchment bag and took out a piece of bread.
After hesitating for a long moment, he finally took a bite and chewed slowly.
This was, without a doubt, the best bread he had ever eaten.