CHAPTER 13 — INTERESTING THINGS
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The air inside the "Green Home Inn" felt warm and carried the scent of pine wood and long-melted beeswax. The atmosphere here was quiet, far from the village market's bustle that could still be faintly heard in the distance—like an echo from a different world. The wooden floor creaked softly beneath their steps, producing a sound that had become familiar to Kyoichiiro's ears after months in Rimba. A simple common room with a few wooden chairs worn with age, a stone fireplace that wasn't lit and still held ashes from last winter, and a small bookshelf in the corner containing several books with worn covers. Simple, but clean and well-maintained—like all places run by people who cared, even if they weren't wealthy.
Kyoichiiro: (Flat tone, his eyes moving quickly, scanning the surroundings—a habit he couldn't abandon) "Which room?"
Amura: (Smiling—a tired but still warm smile) "Second floor. Room number six."
Flashback:
Amura stood before the slightly worn wooden reception desk, speaking with a friendly middle-aged man—the innkeeper. The man had a thick mustache that had turned white at the tips, and his brown eyes crinkled kindly behind age lines.
Innkeeper: "For three people? Hmm... There might be a spacious enough room upstairs. There are two beds; a folding mattress can be added."
Amura: (Taking out a pouch of coins from his pocket) "Alright. I'll rent it for... three days for now."
Innkeeper: (Nodding, satisfied) "Good, good. That will be 150 Zeyn per night, including a simple breakfast—bread, cheese, and herbal tea."
Amura counted 450 Zeyn coins—a considerable amount, but now they could afford it. He placed them on the wooden table with a neat motion.
Amura: "Here's for three days."
Innkeeper: (His eyes sparkling, taking the coins with hands trembling slightly with age) "Thank you very much, young master! The room is on the second floor, room number six. Please go up. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."
End of flashback.
The three of them began climbing the wide wooden stairs—wide enough for two people to walk side by side, but they chose to walk in single file. The sound of their footsteps echoed in the quiet hallway, alternating with the creak of aged wood. On the walls along the stairs hung faded landscape paintings: mountains with snow on their peaks, a river flowing between trees, and a small village by a lake. Kyoichiiro glanced at those paintings briefly, storing small details in his head.
As they reached the top of the stairs to the second floor, Kyoichiiro's gaze inadvertently drifted downward, toward the common room on the first floor.
There, in a chair near the window—a wooden chair with a thick crimson cushion—a young woman sat quietly, engrossed in reading a thick book she held. Her long silver hair, loosely flowing, partially covered her face, swaying gently each time she turned a page. The twilight light streaming through the stained glass window illuminated her hair, creating an almost magical silvery shimmer. Her face was focused, her brow slightly furrowed in concentration, and her eyes—which occasionally blinked—radiated an unusual intelligence.
An aura of calm and intellect enveloped her, like thin morning mist. She was unlike anyone else in this village. There was something in the way she sat, in the way she held the book, in the way she turned the pages—like someone accustomed to solitude, but not lonely.
Kyoichiiro observed her a few moments longer than he should have—perhaps two seconds, perhaps three, long enough for her to notice she was being watched.
Suddenly, the woman lifted her head, as if sensing his gaze. Her dark purple eyes—a color he rarely saw, a color that looked like violets at night—met Kyoichiiro's light blue eyes.
Kyoichiiro flinched. He didn't show surprise on his face—he was too used to hiding emotions—but inside his heart, something stirred. Not from attraction, but from wariness. The woman looked ordinary—just a book reader at a village inn. But there was something in her eyes that made Kyoichiiro's instincts hiss.
She's not like the others, he thought. There's something behind those eyes. Something he couldn't explain.
Quickly, he turned his face away and continued walking along the second-floor hallway as if checking room numbers. His heart beat a little faster—not from attraction, but from alertness. The woman seemed ordinary, but there was something... something that made his instincts vibrate.
They turned left in the second-floor corridor. Rooms lined up neatly on the left and right: Room 2, Room 3... They passed Rooms 4 and 5. Finally, they stopped before a wooden door with a brass plate engraved with the number "6." The plate was somewhat tarnished, but still clearly legible.
For a moment, they just stood there, exchanging glances for no clear reason—perhaps a small habit to make sure everyone was ready before entering a new space. Then, Kyoichiiro pushed the door latch. The door opened with a soft creak, as if greeting them with a familiar voice.
The room's interior was exactly as promised: simple, clean, and functional. Two single beds with simple mattresses and wool blankets faced each other, separated by a distance of about two meters. Two wooden chairs and a small table in the center—a table whose surface was slightly scratched from years of use. On the right side, there was a small storage closet with a slightly crooked door, and a window facing the village street. From that window, they could see several wooden houses, an elderly woman sitting on her porch with a woven basket in her lap, and small children still playing in the streets even though it was getting dark.
Amura: (Entering, tossing his bag onto the left bed with a casual motion) "Alright! As expected."
Kyoichiiro: (Nodding slightly, placing his heavy bag of coins on the floor near the foot of the right bed—not too close to the door, but close enough to reach if needed)
Aetheria, who appeared the most exhausted, could only weakly drop her bag, almost letting it fall to the floor. Her body seemed unsteady, like a tree swaying in a strong wind.
Kyoichiiro: (Noticing Aetheria, his voice flat but with an unusual note of concern) "Are you alright, Aetheria? You look completely exhausted."
Aetheria: (Smiling weakly, her eyes weary, her eyelids half-closed) "No... it's nothing, Kyoichiiro-san. Just... just a little tired, that's—"
She didn't finish her sentence. Her body suddenly swayed, her eyes fully closed, and she began to collapse toward the floor with a slow motion, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Kyoichiiro & Amura: (Simultaneously, voices full of concern) "AETHERIA—?!"
With quick reflexes honed from their dungeon battle, Kyoichiiro darted forward and caught Aetheria's light body before her head could hit the hard wooden floorboards. His left hand supported her back, his right hand held her head to prevent it from hitting. Amura immediately knelt beside them, his red eyes—Crimson Iris—full of worry.
Aetheria had truly fainted, but her breathing was steady—shallow, but stable. Her face, usually anxious or flushed with embarrassment, now looked utterly peaceful in sleep. Her soft rosy cheeks, her long, delicate eyelashes, and her innocent, carefree expression made her look like a fragile porcelain doll, like a statue freshly carved by a very patient artist.
Kyoichiiro: (Exhaling softly, feeling Aetheria's light weight in his arms) "She fainted."
Amura: (Also exhaling, relieved) "But her breathing is steady. She's just exhausted."
Kyoichiiro and Amura exchanged glances, then both sighed in relief. Kyoichiiro couldn't suppress a small smile that touched the corner of his lips—a rare, gentle expression that seldom appeared on his usually flat face. Amura also smiled, shaking his head with an expression between amused and sympathetic.
Kyoichiiro: (Whispering, his voice soft) "She really pushed herself all day. From the dungeon to the city, she never complained."
Amura: (Nodding) "She's stronger than she looks. But everyone has their limits."
Carefully, Kyoichiiro lifted Aetheria's small body—one hand gently supporting her back, the other beneath her knees. Aetheria's body felt light, almost weightless, like a feather floating in the air.
Kyoichiiro: (Whispering again, as if to the unconscious Aetheria, but also as if to himself) "I'm sorry for being too bold. I shouldn't have pushed you this far."
He walked slowly to the empty bed on the right—the bed closer to the wall, more sheltered from the door—and with the gentlest movement he had ever made in his life, laid Aetheria on the mattress. He adjusted her head on the pillow, smoothed her tangled blonde hair, and carefully covered Aetheria with the thick wool blanket he took from the foot of the bed. The blanket was slightly rough, but warm.
Standing there, watching Aetheria sleep soundly—her peaceful face, her steady breathing, and occasionally her lips moving slightly as if dreaming—an unexpected thought crossed Kyoichiiro's mind.
She really is like an innocent child... always wanting attention, easily frightened, but also having the courage to try. It's nice to see her growing, becoming a friend...
Suddenly, Kyoichiiro flinched. His eyes widened, and with a reflexive motion he didn't realize, he covered his mouth with his hand, turning his face away from Aetheria. His cheeks—usually pale and colorless—now felt warm.
Oi, oi, oi... What was I just thinking? he thought, his mind churning like a whirlpool. I unconsciously praised someone? Without any analytical basis? Without calculation? Without logical reason? Those words just appeared out of nowhere! Wake up, Kyoichiiro. Your focus is understanding this world, finding out why you're here. Not... not for sentiment.
From behind him came a muffled sound—a sound trying to be hidden, but not entirely successfully. Kyoichiiro turned and saw Amura covering his own mouth with both hands, his shoulders shaking as if holding back strong laughter. His red eyes—usually sharp and calculating—now sparkled with barely concealed glee.
Amura: (Whispering, his voice trembling with suppressed laughter) "What... what did you just say to yourself inside your head, Kyoichiiro-san? Your expression changed like someone caught in their own confusion."
Kyoichiiro: (Flat tone but slightly annoyed—something rare) "Shut up."
Amura: (Chuckling softly, then wiping the corner of his eye, which was starting to get wet from holding back laughter) "Sorry, sorry. I was just surprised. Look at yourself—covering your mouth, face flushed, while staring at sleeping Aetheria. That's... funny. I've never seen you like that before."
Kyoichiiro: (Didn't answer. He just let out a soft snort—a barely audible sound—and walked away from Aetheria's bedside)
He sat on the edge of his own bed, which was opposite Aetheria's. His gaze fixed on the window beside him. Outside, the twilight sky was beginning to turn orange and purple—the last light warming the world before night arrived. Thin clouds moved slowly above the village, like small ships sailing on a rubber ocean. The weather was clear and calm, a stark contrast to the chaos inside the dungeon just hours earlier—the roaring sounds, falling rocks, and the fear that had nearly frozen their blood.
Kyoichiiro: (To himself, his eyes still fixed on the sky outside the window) This world is strange. The more I try to understand it, the more it feels like a puzzle with no answer.
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AMURA — SILENCE THAT CARRIES WEIGHT
Amura, after being satisfied (in a good-natured way) with laughing at Kyoichiiro's reaction, sat on one of the wooden chairs near the table. The chair creaked softly under his light weight. He drew his sword from its sheath—the sword he had just received from the blacksmith, still gleaming like new—and began examining it carefully. His slender fingers moved along the blade, cleaning dust and stains from the earlier battle with a soft cloth he took from his bag.
His movements were skilled, practiced, like someone who had often cared for their weapon. There was something in the way he held that sword—unlike Kyoichiiro, who held it with wariness, or Aetheria, who almost never touched a weapon. Amura held his sword like holding a part of himself, like an extension of his hand.
However, in the silence, his own mind was not at peace. He glanced at Kyoichiiro—who was still staring out the window with a profile that seemed serious and isolated, like a statue carved from stone by an artist who didn't want their work touched by anyone.
Amura: (To himself, his voice full of resolve and a hint of doubt) Soon, Kyoichiiro-san... you'll know everything. And I... I have to tell you what I've known all along. The truth about this world, about the Khaneo family... and perhaps, about yourself.
He stopped cleaning his sword. His fingers ceased moving along the blade. His red eyes—Crimson Iris—stared blankly at the wall before him, but didn't really see it.
But, are you ready? he thought, and for the first time, he doubted his decision. Am I ready?
The silence inside the room grew quiet—so quiet they could hear their own heartbeats, their own breathing, and occasionally Aetheria's soft murmurs in her sleep. Only the sound of Aetheria's steady breathing and the rustle of cloth as Amura cleaned his sword broke the silence. The quiet was comfortable, yet beneath its surface flowed a current of tension and unspoken questions.
Kyoichiiro: (Still staring out the window, not turning, his voice flat) "Amura."
Amura: (Startled slightly, his sword almost slipping from his hand) "W-what?"
Kyoichiiro: (Still not turning) "You have something you want to say, don't you? I can feel it. From the way you're quiet."
Amura fell silent. He looked at Kyoichiiro—his small back, his slightly tense shoulders, and his head slightly tilted to the side. He hadn't expected Kyoichiiro to notice. But of course, Kyoichiiro always noticed everything.
Amura: (After a moment, his voice soft) "Yes. I have something. But... not now. Later. When we've truly rested."
Kyoichiiro: (Nodding—a small, almost invisible nod) "Alright."
The atmosphere in the room fell quiet again. But this time, the silence felt different—no longer comfortable, but full of anticipation. Like the air before a storm. Like the seconds before something important happened.
Their journey together had passed its first life-and-death test. They had faced monsters, collapses, and fear that nearly froze their blood. They had survived—somehow, through luck, cooperation, and perhaps something else.
And now, in this safe room, with the twilight sky outside the window and sleeping companions around them, perhaps it was time to begin sharing the secrets each of them carried. Secrets about the past, about this world, about themselves.
But for now, they only sat in silence. Waiting. Resting. Gathering strength for tomorrow.