************
Ryan saw it—the faint redness in Scarlette's eyes, the subtle stiffness in her shoulders, the quiet heaviness clinging to the air like a lingering shadow. He wanted to comfort her, to say something reassuring, but the slight distance in her posture told him she preferred facing her emotions alone.
He respected that.
He decided not to force any questions and instead shifted the topic entirely.
"Oh—right!" he said lightly, lifting the bundle in his arms. "I gathered some wood we can use tonight. It's a bit windy, so we'll need a fire to stay warm."
He intentionally brightened his tone—not overly cheerful, just enough to ease the tension. Carefully, he placed the firewood at the center of their makeshift camp and went to retrieve a few smooth stones.
He knelt down, clicking the stones together to produce sparks. A few orange flecks appeared, glowing for half a moment before fading again.
Ryan sighed.
Seriously? Why am I struggling with something so basic?
He tried again—nothing.
At first, he attempted to hide his frustration, but the longer he struggled, the more foolish he felt.
Scarlette watched him in silence.
After nearly a full minute of failed attempts, she let out a short, exasperated breath.
Without a word, she lifted her hand.
Snap.
A sharp sound echoed in the clearing.
A crimson magic circle flared above the wood—its runes glowing briefly before a clean flame ignited perfectly in the center.
Ryan jumped back in surprise, staring wide‑eyed at the fire crackling before him.
But it wasn't the fire that shocked him.
It was Scarlette.
Her nonchalance.
Her precision.
Her magic.
"Scarlette," he stammered, looking between her and the burning wood. "A‑are you… a mage?"
Scarlette didn't answer.
She merely shrugged, already pulling fabric sheets from her dimensional pouch. With silent efficiency, she walked to the other side of the clearing, unfurled the cloth onto the ground, and lay down without offering even a glance in his direction.
Ryan blinked.
"…O‑okay then," he muttered.
He stared at her motionless back, trying to read meaning from the way she curled her arm beneath her head, or how she turned slightly away from the fire.
Then another thought surfaced.
Chantless magic…? Only high‑tier mages can do that. And she cast it so casually.
He swallowed hard.
He had heard rumors before—stories from passing adventurers and hushed tavern gossip—that Scarlette could wield chantless magic. But he always assumed those accounts were exaggerated.
Now?
He wasn't so sure.
If she can use chantless spells without effort… then what is her true origin? Her true rank? Her real limits?
Ryan forced himself to push away those thoughts. His mission came first—finding [that person] his master sought. And his second clue… it led straight to Scarlette Overland.
She was the key.
Which meant he needed to stay careful.
Hidden.
Observant.
For now, the best he could do was keep his head down.
With the camp settled and a fire burning steadily beside them, Ryan gazed at the surrounding trees.
He needed to train.
Stretch his muscles.
Sharpen his senses.
Keep himself prepared.
He glanced toward Scarlette's sleeping form.
"Scarlette," he said softly, so as not to startle her, "I'll be on watch tonight. You should rest."
She didn't move.
Didn't lift her head.
Didn't say a word.
Ryan had no idea whether she had already fallen asleep or was merely ignoring him.
Either way, he respected her silence.
He grabbed his sword and slipped deeper into the forest, far enough that the sounds of his training wouldn't disturb her.
The woods were quiet.
Moonlight filtered through dense branches, painting patches of silver across the forest floor.
When he felt he was far enough, he stopped and exhaled slowly.
He unsheathed his sword.
His fingers tightened around the hilt.
Father… let's see how much of your lessons I still remember.
He inhaled deeply—slow, steady.
Then he moved.
His sword sliced through the air with a sharp swish. Energy rippled with each slash, a faint breeze following the arc of his blade. He focused on his breathing, letting the movements flow naturally.
A piercing thrust.
A diagonal sweep.
A spin‑step counter.
Every movement carried bits of memory—hard training, mistakes corrected through rough discipline, silent nights spent honing his body when he was younger.
With each form he executed, a faint aura began to stir around him—a subtle glimmer of magic flowing through his blade. Ryan's concentration deepened.
Sweat trickled down his neck.
His breathing turned heavier.
But he didn't stop.
He couldn't stop.
He wanted to forge something of his own—a sword form uniquely his, something that belonged to Rylander rather than the alias he wore.
After several more sequences, Ryan halted abruptly, planting his sword into the earth as he bent forward, panting heavily.
Perspiration dripped onto the grass.
His chest rose and fell rapidly.
I've gotten rusty…
He wiped his forehead and dragged in a long breath.
Looking up, he saw the stars shimmering faintly through the canopy.
Five months… It's been five months since I left for this mission. Five months of searching across the Miris Continent. And every trace led me here—to Silveria Empire.
Then Scarlette entered his life.
Completely unexpectedly.
And around her neck…
that item.
The unmistakable item connected to [that person].
If she holds something tied to them… then Scarlette might truly be the key.
Ryan knew that his search was far from over. But now—being in Scarlette's presence—he felt both closer and farther from the truth at the same time.
He tightened his grip around the hilt.
He would not rush.
He would not risk being discovered.
Scarlette Overland wasn't someone you could afford to provoke.
And if she ever realized he was investigating her…
Ryan shuddered.
I'd rather jump off a cliff.
He sighed deeply—and froze.
A cold voice cut through the silence.
"Sloppy. Stiff. Not perfect."
Ryan choked on his own breath.
"AHHH!"
He whipped around, grabbing his sword instinctively.
Every muscle tensed as his eyes darted around the darkened clearing.
Someone was here.
His heart pounded loudly against his ribs.
No… Scarlette was sleeping. It wasn't her voice. The tone is different… colder… but familiar somehow.
Ryan tightened his stance.
"Who are you?!" he shouted, sword held up defensively. "Show yourself!"
His voice echoed through the forest—
—and the darkness answered back.
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