Along a tranquil forest path,
a small girl with long black hair flowing down walked between the rustling fallen leaves.
On her back were a longsword as tall as she was,
and a wooden box nearly as large, bound with chains and strapped in place.
Though her luggage looked heavy, the girl’s steps were astonishingly light.
Her gait was neat,
and her expression held nothing but questions.
‘Bido. Leave at once.’
Her master’s voice brushed through her mind.
It was the hour when, as always, she should have begun her day with sword training.
But today, a sudden summons had awaited her instead.
Her master had held out a sword, a simple pack,
and that wooden box, offering no explanation whatsoever.
She had conveyed nothing but the destination.
South of the city,
a small village she had visited once as a child.
Thanks to her gift for never forgetting a path once walked,
she remembered clearly the road she had taken in her youth.
Even so, deep in her heart, the doubts did not fade.
Why now of all times,
and why she had to leave in such a hurry.
It had always been this way.
Rather than detailed explanations, there were only words of ‘you must.’
Such was her master.
The noon sunlight poured through the forest.
Light filtering between the leaves dyed the fallen leaves piled on the ground golden.
The girl stopped for a moment,
untied the longsword and wooden box from her back, and set them on the ground.
The box was firmly bound with chains,
and ancient patterns were carved into its surface,
so that one could tell at a glance it was not something easily opened.
Leaving the box beside her, the girl took bread from her small pack and bit into it.
As the crispy crust and soft interior chewed together,
the tension stiffening her body eased for a moment.
But her gaze naturally returned to the box.
“What on earth… just what is this box, that I’m told to carry it?”
With a muttered soliloquy like a whisper,
she lightly touched the chains with her fingertips.
A cold, heavy sensation.
Though heavy, strangely, she felt a peculiar sense of trust rather than unease.
This box was not simple luggage.
It was something her master had entrusted to her without bothering to explain why.
And the reason she had to leave at this very moment.
That this box lay at the center of it all,
she could instinctively sense even without explanation.
“If I keep going like this… I should arrive before sunset.”
Having taken a short breath under the sunlight,
the girl shouldered her burden once more.
The longsword and the box,
and the pack pressed naturally against her body, as if they had done so for ages.
Embracing a heart mixed with doubt and anticipation,
the forest path stretching south silently accepted her, continuing onward.
The forest path remained tranquil.
Each time the wind brushed past, the leaves lightly flipped,
and the moment that flow subtly skewed, Bido stopped walking.
Without raising her head, she held her breath.
Movements that did not blend with the sounds of nature.
Three.
Their footsteps were cautious,
yet she sensed no intention to hide completely.
Rather, it was a presence left behind as if to announce themselves.
Her hand unconsciously touched the sword hilt.
It was then.
“Ah, here you are.”
A voice lightly breaking the forest’s stillness.
A tone that felt neither guarded nor tense.
Soon the sound of trampling leaves drew near,
and three figures appeared between the trees.
The one at the very front was a girl of similar height to Bido.
Her steps were light and her expression bright.
On her face, framed by fluttering white hair, the distinctly moist-looking nose-tip characteristic of the Haraya race was prominent.
Outwardly, she was unmistakably a young girl,
but her eyes and expression held a seasoned wisdom suggesting she had lived far longer than her appearance implied,
and her contours, unlike those of a human, were apparent at a glance.
Behind followed a man in neat attire at a fixed distance,
and beside him walked a woman with a relatively relaxed demeanor, surveying their surroundings.
Both appeared still young.
“You’re Bido, right?”
The girl in front asked with a smile.
“You’re much smaller than I thought.”
Bido did not answer immediately.
She swiftly assessed the three’s gazes, their footsteps,
and the rhythm of their breathing.
There were no threatening movements.
But neither was it an encounter light enough to lower her guard.
“Lady Mireong, that is rude.”
The man following behind spoke first.
It was a low, calm voice.
“We have approached you so suddenly.”
“What do you mean, Erdin?”
The girl Mireong waved her hand.
“In times like these, we should just take it easy.”
“Whether it is easy is for the other party to decide.”
Erdin replied quietly.
In the meantime,
the woman at his side stepped forward.
“I am Mendel.”
She looked at Bido with a smile.
“We have come to meet you, Bido.”
At those words, Bido’s gaze paused.
They said they had come to meet her.
Strangers she had never seen before.
Her master’s words brushed through her mind.
Leave at once.
There had been no reason, no explanation.
Only the words telling her to leave.
And yet now,
those who had come to meet her had appeared.
Another layer of doubt piled on.
At the same time,
so did wariness.
“You… came to meet me?”
Bido asked as calmly as possible.
Her voice did not waver,
but her fingertips did not stray far from her sword.
Mireong hesitated briefly.
She seemed to be choosing her words.
“Well, you see…”
“You are Aslo’s disciple, are you not?”
Mendel naturally continued.
At that name, Bido’s gaze moved for the first time.
“…Do you know my master?”
Mireong brightened and smiled.
“Aslo. Still curt and overly serious, isn’t he?”
“Calling it ‘useless’ is too harsh.”
Mendel added with a smile.
“Still, his habit of suddenly falling asleep was truly impressive.”
A brief silence passed.
Bido assessed the three once more.
They called her master by name.
They knew his personality and habits.
It did not appear to be a fabricated story.
Mireong turned first and pointed down the forest path.
“Anyway, let’s hurry.”
Her words were light,
but her steps quickened.
“It is Aslo’s request.”
“Well… I suppose you could think of us as guides.”
“You’re on your way to the southern village, right?”
Mireong was smiling,
but within that smile was a subtle weight different from before.
Bido watched her retreating figure briefly,
then quietly moved her feet.
A request.
A single word insufficient to explain it—
too many questions remained.
Bido did not answer immediately.
And she scanned the three’s positions once more.
Mireong in front.
Erdin behind.
And Mendel at her side.
It was far too flawless to be a coincidence.
“…What kind of request?”
Mireong lightly shrugged.
“Nothing so grand.”
“This forest is dangerous, isn’t it? Demonic beasts might appear.”
She paused briefly,
then added.
“Or bandits.”
More than an explanation,
it felt like words piled on as they came to mind.
Bido did not accept those words at face value.
She knew this forest was dangerous.
But even so,
the idea that her master had sent these people to her did not easily settle.
“Such things have certainly grown frequent lately.”
Mendel continued gently.
“It is a time that makes traveling alone a bit unnerving.”
Erdin nodded shortly as well.
“It means avoiding unnecessary danger.”
The three’s words interlocked seamlessly.
None of them overstepped,
nor did they back down.
Bido turned her gaze beyond the forest path for a moment.
The road stretching south.
The village she had to reach before sunset today.
“…Traveling together,”
Bido paused as if choosing her words.
“…only until that village?”
Mireong did not answer immediately.
After catching her breath,
she lightly shrugged.
“For now.”
That was the extent of it.
Neither a definite answer nor a refusal.
Bido could not immediately understand that answer.
But she did not ask further.
After a brief silence,
she nodded cautiously.
“Then… let us do so.”
A look of relief crossed Mireong’s face.
It was a very brief moment, but Bido did not miss it.
“Good.”
Mireong said, turning around.
“Then, let’s go.”
Mireong took the lead,
and Erdin and Mendel naturally shifted their positions.
As the four began walking,
the three once again formed a loose formation with Bido at the center.
The forest path remained tranquil.
The crunching sound of fallen leaves being trodden continued,
and the wind passed between the leaves, opening the way.
Walking between them, Bido thought.
Guides.
A request.
Whichever it was,
there were still too many unexplained parts.
But she did not ask now.
While walking,
she instinctively knew more would be revealed.
And so, the forest path led the four toward the village.
It was then.
“Hm?”
Mireong stopped walking.
Her face revealed beneath the white hair subtly hardened,
and her nose twitched slightly.
As if gauging something mingled in the air,
she took a short breath.
“No way… already?”
At that low murmur, Erdin and Mendel reacted immediately.
Without a word, they slowed their steps,
and naturally surveyed their surroundings.
The change was so swift that Bido felt it all the more clearly.
The relaxed atmosphere from moments before had vanished without a trace.
“…What is it?”
Bido asked in a low voice.
Mireong did not answer immediately.
Instead, stepping aside,
she slightly nudged Bido’s position toward the inside of the path.
As if protecting her, yet not overtly so.
“I’m not certain yet.”
Mireong said shortly.
“The scent remains. It’s human.”
At those words, Bido’s gaze turned beyond the trees.
Nothing could be seen.
The wind was still calm,
and the fallen leaves lay on the road as always.
“Are they close?”
When Erdin asked,
Mireong shook her head.
“No. Quite far.”
“But… the direction…”
Mendel said, quietly catching her breath.
“They’re coming this way.”
Mireong closed her mouth briefly.
The flow of the scent and the forest wind,
as if rapidly matching the lingering trail of footsteps in her mind.
“Their speed is slow.”
“There are many. And… they aren’t stopping.”
At those words, Erdin’s eyes narrowed.
“They are tracking us.”
Mireong nodded.
Only then did Bido understand.
The looseness they had shown until moments ago
was not negligence, but composure.
“Tracking us?”
At Bido’s question,
Mireong looked alternately at the forest path and the direction of the village.
That gaze, instead of offering an answer,
was turned toward somewhere unseen.