As the night deepened, the sound of their footsteps grew softer.
The forest still continued on,
but the darkness was no longer uniform.
As less moonlight seeped through the trees,
it took more attention to make out the shapes beneath their feet.
Miryeong, at the front, was gradually slowing her pace.
Not enough to seem hurried,
but not enough to stop, either.
Bido followed behind her, matching her steps.
The box was still on her shoulder.
It felt heavier than it had during the day,
but not so much that it slowed her down.
Erdin noticed first.
He slowed his steps for a moment,
then moved up beside Miryeong.
“At this point,”
his voice was low.
“wouldn’t it be better to rest a little?”
Miryeong did not answer right away.
Only after taking one more step did she stop.
Then she swept her gaze around the area.
The spacing of the trees,
the slope of the ground,
the direction the wind passed through.
Mendel also came to a stop naturally.
Wordlessly, as if by habit.
“If we go farther in our current state,”
Erdin continued,
“we might stand out more by trying not to leave traces.”
Miryeong nodded.
It was a brief agreement.
“If the night gets any deeper,”
Erdin added,
“an accident could happen even without a fight.”
At those words, Bido’s gaze shifted for a moment.
Not ahead, but down to her feet.
A single tree branch,
slightly damp soil,
in the darkness, trivial things grew larger.
Miryeong changed direction.
It was toward going a little deeper into the forest.
“We won’t go far.”
She said.
“Just far enough not to stand out.”
Erdin nodded.
Mendel was already looking around, searching for a place.
Bido moved after them without a word.
The choice to stop for a moment in the darkness,
for now, seemed the most natural.
Even after they settled on a spot, Miryeong did not sit.
She leaned her back against a tree and stood there, surveying the surroundings.
Her ears moved faintly,
and the tip of her nose quivered as if feeling out the flow of the wind.
“No fire.”
It was a short statement.
Erdin nodded.
Mendel was already unpacking their belongings,
taking out cold bread and dried meat.
It was too simple a preparation to be called camping.
Choosing a place,
confirming each other’s positions,
and placing only what was needed within reach.
Bido did not put the box down.
Sitting with her back against a tree,
she checked once more to make sure the chains would not come loose.
Miryeong’s gaze turned that way.
Only for a moment.
But it was not a gaze that avoided or concealed anything.
“Earlier.”
Miryeong spoke.
Her voice was low, as if buried in the night.
“The paladin’s power.”
“It didn’t work only on you.”
Bido did not answer for a moment.
Only after swallowing the bread she had been chewing did she raise her head.
“…I’m not sure.”
Miryeong narrowed her eyes.
It was a gaze closer to confirmation than suspicion.
“You didn’t feel anything?”
Bido thought for a moment.
The sensation of the air pressing down.
The moment when her body should have sunk.
And yet, what remained in her memory
was only the feeling that the air had changed slightly.
“It did feel stifling.”
“But… I could move.”
Miryeong did not answer.
Erdin quietly interjected.
“Judging by the paladin’s reaction, it seemed he had clearly used his power on you as well, Lady Bido.”
“And yet the fact that it had almost no effect on you…”
Mendel nodded.
“Certainly.”
At those words, Bido lowered her gaze.
Her hand.
The hand that had been gripping the chain
was still not trembling.
Miryeong spoke again.
“Hmm… was it because of that box?”
“Or because of you?”
The question was directed at Bido,
but at the same time, it felt like words thrown into the air.
Bido could not answer.
She only knew that the box had been heavy,
and that she had not set that weight down.
Silence flowed for a while.
The forest was still quiet.
So quiet that the night made it feel as though someone might be listening.
After a brief silence,
this time, Bido was the first to speak.
“…But.”
Her voice was cautious.
“That power… it’s Mirkin, isn’t it?”
Miryeong’s gaze returned to Bido.
“Yes.”
It was a short answer.
Bido hesitated for a moment before continuing.
“Master… didn’t teach me about it in detail.”
“Only that such a thing existed.”
Miryeong’s eyebrow moved faintly.
“Aslo did?”
A hint of surprise passed over her face.
“That man ended it at that?”
Bido nodded.
“When I asked, he only said it wasn’t time yet.”
Miryeong let out a short sound that could have been a sigh,
or perhaps simply steadying her breath.
“I knew it.”
She shifted slightly from where she had been leaning against the tree and said,
“That paladin earlier.”
“It was probably a control-type power.”
Erdin naturally took up the thread.
“From the feeling of it, it seemed like he was using gravity.”
“The range was wide, and the pressure was uniform.”
“Right.”
Miryeong nodded.
“He looked fairly strong, and his sustaining power seemed good too.”
“Though it vanished the moment Bido charged in.”
Erdin continued.
“The paladin seemed startled as well.”
Mendel added in a low voice.
“The priest is likely a Mirkin user too.”
“Otherwise, he wouldn’t have moved with such certainty.”
Miryeong was silent for a moment before continuing.
“Yes.”
“Whatever it is, it must be an ability that finds something.”
Her gaze
naturally shifted to Bido’s shoulder.
More precisely, to the box bound in chains.
“That box,”
Miryeong said.
“It’s certain they’re chasing that.”
Neither Erdin nor Mendel denied it.
Their attention gathered in one place.
The chain-bound box.
Bido unconsciously
tightened the hand holding the strap.
Heavy.
It was a fact she had known from the beginning.
Only now, that weight did not feel like a mere burden.
Miryeong withdrew her gaze from the box and said,
“For reference.”
“We don’t know anything about that box either.”
Bido raised her head.
“We saw it for the first time today.”
Miryeong spoke calmly.
“What Rangnan told us were your features and your route.”
“And that there was an item you would have, and that we absolutely had to bring you to the base.”
Erdin nodded.
“We were not told the identity of the box.”
“Only that it was something to be protected.”
Bido looked back at the box.
Its wooden exterior, chains, and lock.
That was about all she had known until now as well.
Erdin took a step closer.
“Lady Bido, for a moment,”
he said.
“May I try lifting that box?”
Bido hesitated briefly,
then set the box down on the ground.
The chains touched the wood with a low sound.
Erdin bent down and grasped the handle.
After taking a breath, he carefully lifted it.
And then—
His movement stopped for a moment.
“…It’s heavy.”
The box rose slightly from the ground,
then soon settled back down.
Erdin furrowed his brow.
“This is…”
“I didn’t think it would be this much.”
Mendel approached and looked down at the box.
“What could be inside?”
Erdin said quietly,
“The balance is strange too.”
Erdin let go and looked at Bido.
“You’ve been carrying this the whole time?”
Bido nodded.
Erdin was silent for a moment.
There were calculations mixed into that silence.
The distance traveled, the speed,
and the brief battle from earlier.
Miryeong watched him, then spoke.
“It’s strange.”
Her words were short and firm.
She looked at Bido.
“For a human around your age,”
“moving while carrying a longsword and a box like that at the same time isn’t normal.”
Bido did not know how to answer.
Miryeong continued.
“You saw it earlier. Your movement, your reactions.”
She paused for a moment.
“If you were a Haraya like me, maybe.”
The air sank a little.
Mendel quietly exhaled.
Erdin stood with his arms crossed,
his expression lost in thought.
Bido lowered her gaze.
Her hands.
The hands that had carried the box.
Sensations she had taken for granted until now suddenly became unfamiliar.
Silence flowed for a while.
Just as the gazes lingering between the box and Bido
were slowly beginning to scatter,
Mendel looked at Bido,
then cautiously opened her mouth.
“If it would not be rude.”
“May I… take a brief look at your ears?”
Bido flinched slightly.
Her expression showed that she had not immediately understood what he meant.
“My ears?”
Mendel nodded.
“They’re hidden by your hair.”
“I only need to confirm.”
Only then did Miryeong’s gaze move to Bido’s face.
The sense of déjà vu she had been feeling since a while ago
seemed to finally take shape.
Bido hesitated for a moment,
then nodded.
Mendel carefully reached out.
He lifted her hair slightly.
Bido’s ear was revealed.
And it was not human.
The tip was long,
its shape sharply defined.
An outline that extended subtly upward.
Miryeong’s breath stopped, very faintly.
“…Haraya.”
The word slipped from her mouth
almost unconsciously.
Erdin also approached and examined the ear.
His expression hardened.
“It is smaller and shorter,”
he said in a low voice,
“but it resembles a Haraya’s ear.”
Miryeong’s brow narrowed.
The shape of the ear was clearly similar to a Haraya’s.
But the outline of the nose was human.
Her fangs did not seem prominent either.
Seeing their reactions, Bido raised her hand without realizing it.
Then, covering her ear, she spoke cautiously.
“Master… told me once before.”
All three of their gazes turned to Bido at once.
“That one of my parents,”
Bido chose her words,
“was a Haraya.”
The air stopped.
It was not so much surprise
as the silence before a fact too difficult to accept.
“…That makes no sense.”
Erdin spoke first.
“Mixed blood between different races is—”
“Impossible.”
Miryeong continued.
Her tone was excessively definitive.
It was common sense, and a rule,
and in this world, an obvious premise.
And yet.
Miryeong’s gaze moved back down over Bido’s body.
The sword, the box, and her movements.
“…So that was it.”
She murmured lowly.
“If that’s the case… it can be explained.”
Mendel remained silent.
But her eyes were calculating something beyond simple astonishment.
Miryeong spoke again.
“Then did you ever learn Arkin from Aslo?”
Bido shook her head.
“I… have seen him use it.”
“But he said I couldn’t learn it.”
“Why?”
“…He didn’t tell me.”
Miryeong looked at Bido for a moment, then turned her gaze away.
“Then,”
she said,
“it must not be time yet.”
Erdin raised his head.
“Perhaps…”
Miryeong exhaled briefly.
“Mirkin that hasn’t properly awakened.”
“There’s a good chance of that.”
Those words were not certainty, but conjecture,
yet they remained in the air and did not easily fade.
Bido looked down at her own hand as she listened.
Mirkin.
It was a word she had heard before,
but now it might become her own story.
—
At the edge of the forest on the outskirts of the village.
Adel Hartmann was silent for a long while.
They did not light a fire.
Only the dew settling on his armor indicated how deep the night had grown.
His gaze suddenly
returned to the black-haired girl.
Why?
His power had not reached her.
She had not dodged,
nor had she resisted,
and yet,
it was as if it had never reached her in the first place.
Adel carefully conveyed that fact to the priest.
“It was strange.”
“Only that one girl… my power did not reach her.”
The priest did not answer right away.
He had taken a small piece of bone from within his robes.
Rolling it between his fingers,
he closed his eyes for a moment.
“The world of Mirkin,”
the priest said quietly,
“is far broader than you might think.”
It was neither certainty nor denial.
The priest focused his mind again.
Spiritual power flowed, and the bone fragment trembled faintly.
Soon, his face hardened.
“…They’ve gotten farther away.”
“The distance has opened up quite a bit.”
But soon, the priest let out a very faint breath.
“Still, they are stopped for now.”
At those words, Adel’s shoulders lowered very slightly.
“So tracking is possible.”
The priest nodded,
but he clenched the bone fragment that had nearly slipped from his weakened hand.
“It is possible.”
“However…”
He did not continue.
Instead, he pressed his temple.
Adel looked at him and said,
“This is as far as we go today.”
“Do not overexert yourself.”
The priest gave a short bow of his head.
“As soon as day breaks,”
Adel continued,
“we resume the pursuit.”
He looked at the priest,
then added in a quiet but firm tone,
“I will take responsibility.”
“For the decisions, and for how this proceeds.”
Those words were not an order,
but closer to a declaration to himself.
Beyond the forest,
toward an unseen direction, Adel raised his sword again.
The pursuit had stopped, but it had not ended.
The night was still deep,
and the being who had shaken his judgment was beyond the darkness.