It was the first time I had ever truly wielded moonlight—and to my relief, it had answered perfectly.
The forest was silent now, bathed in a pale silver glow, the mist curling gently around us like a veil. My breath steadied as I sheathed my blade of light, the last traces of battle fading into quiet.
And yet… I wasn't moving.
Because right now, I was being held hostage—by a trembling, snow-furred fox girl who refused to let go of me.
She clung to my cloak with both hands, her small body pressed against me like a frightened child, her soft white tail coiled around my arm. For someone who wouldn't even meet my eyes, she was holding on as if I'd vanish if she blinked.
I sighed quietly. "You're safe now. I'm not going anywhere."
No response. Just the faint sound of her breathing.
Then, in a small, hoarse whisper—
"…Haven't eaten…"
I blinked. "Huh? What did you say?"
Her ears twitched once. "Hungry… haven't eaten…" she murmured again, voice weak and trembling.
Her stomach growled softly, almost pitifully, and for a brief second, the mighty hero inside me felt like a babysitter.
I exhaled and reached into my item box. "Here. Water first."
Her head lifted slowly, ears perking as I uncorked the bottle. She took it hesitantly at first, her delicate fingers brushing against mine—then greedily began to sip. Each gulp seemed to breathe life back into her face.
Then, out of nowhere—like a light switch being flipped—her entire demeanor changed.
Her dull, distant eyes suddenly widened, shimmering with energy. A spark of joy danced in them, her cheeks flushing faintly beneath the dirt. Her fox ears perked upright, twitching so fast they almost blurred, and her tail began wagging in an excited rhythm that brushed against my leg.
"You saved me!" she said, beaming so brightly it almost caught me off guard.
I blinked again, caught somewhere between disbelief and a laugh. "…That was fast."
"Eh?" she tilted her head, ears flicking, eyes wide and pure as moonlight.
A moment ago, she was half-conscious and trembling. Now, she was glowing like the morning sun, radiating warmth and gratitude as if the whole ordeal had been a bad dream.
Her tail wagged even harder.
I found myself smiling despite everything. "Yeah… I saved you."
Her stomach growled softly—no, roared, deep and monstrous, like something far larger than her had just woken up inside.
I froze. Even she looked startled, her fox ears twitching upright before flattening in embarrassment.
"…That came from you?" I asked, half in disbelief.
Her cheeks turned crimson beneath the dirt, and she hid her face in her sleeves. "S-sorry…"
I couldn't help a small laugh escaping. "Don't be. Here—try this."
I reached into my item box and retrieved a small crystal jar of Yukihime's honeycomb fruit—a golden, glistening cluster that shimmered faintly with mana. Its scent filled the air at once: sweet, floral, and faintly cool, like morning dew kissed by sunlight.
Her eyes widened immediately, pupils dilating at the sight of the fruit.
"It's… glowing," she whispered, almost reverently.
"Yeah. It's safe. And sweet," I said, holding it out to her. "Eat slowly."
She hesitated for a moment, then took the piece gingerly from my hand and bit into it.
The effect was instant.
Her tail shot up, wagging so fast it blurred into a white arc. Her eyes lit up with sheer bliss as she chewed, tiny delighted sounds slipping past her lips. "Mmm—so good! I've revived!!"
I stared, utterly dumbfounded by how fast she'd changed again—from starving and trembling to sparkling with life like a child discovering candy for the first time.
"You really are full of surprises," I murmured, shaking my head.
Her ears twitched again, and she smiled brightly between bites. "Hehe… thank you, mister moonlight."
I blinked. "…Mister what?"
She just giggled, crumbs of golden honey glinting on her lips, tail still happily swishing against the grass.
And for the first time since I'd arrived in this strange new world, the forest didn't feel quite so cold.
"You were watching? The entire time?" I asked.
"Yep… munch munch… the entire…munch… time!" She giggled.
My jaw dropped to the ground. My battle was nowhere near PG18, and this seemingly innocent girl just saw the whole thing live and didn't even break a sweat!
"Don't worry, mister moonlight, it was very exciting and had a lot of action, like kacha and kapow and viney thing," she replied nonchalantly as she mimicked my every move.
"Ok, firstly, stop the whole Mister Moonlight thing, my name is Hoshikawa, you can call me Kawa, like everyone else,"
"And secondly, what's your name?"
She tilted her head slightly as if trying to recall her own name.
"Winter Yukihara… my name is Winter Yukihara! But you can call me Snow!" Shizu exclaimed.
"Ah," I nodded slowly, taken aback by her energy.
"Ahem," A deep voice sounded.
The two of us whipped our heads back to see a man in a suit with grey wolf ears sticking out of his head, standing right in front of the pack of wolves.
Oh right, I completely forgot about them.
Shizu instinctively grabbed my arm for emotional support.
"My sincerest apologies for interrupting your lovely conversation, Hoshikawa-sama, but——" He bowed his head.
"Wait, hold on," I said, confused. Who are you? And why am I 'Hoshikawa-sama'?"
His shoulders sank slightly, probably disappointed in my dementia.
"I am the Alpha of the Lupine Crown. You may address me as your humble servant, Fang, Hoshikawa-sama. I believe all of us," Fang looked behind his shoulder and nodded towards the other wolves, "have seen your kind heart and power and would like to serve you for as long as you live. And so, we have given you our beast will. You can call us through your shadow whenever you need us, and we will come."
At least fifty black threads emerged from my astral core. Was this the beast will he was talking about?
"With your word, we will take our leave," Fang bowed again.
"You are dismissed," I commanded.
"Very well, Hoshikawa-sama, thank you," Fang bowed one last time, right hand over his heart as he and the other wolf members sank through the shadows.
I then turned back to see Shizu tightly clutching my arm, trembling.
"There, there, what's wrong?" I patted her cute, fluffy fox ears.
"Big bad wolfie, scary," she muttered.
I tried my best to hold in my laughter, and comforted, "No worries, Snow, he's gone,"
"Status Open!"
The translucent screen appeared before me. I see… I have fifty servants now…
"Ah, Snow, you—"
I stopped mid-sentence as I turned my head, only to find two soft pink eyes staring up at me from beneath the dim carriage lantern. They shimmered faintly in the half-dark, wide and innocent, but somehow also pleading.
She tilted her head slightly, her fluffy ears drooping just enough to make it impossible to stay annoyed.
"…What do you want now?" I asked with a sigh, my voice coming out more tired than stern.
"Me still hungry…" she mumbled, her voice small and wobbly like she was confessing to a terrible crime.
"It's almost dawn," I said, rubbing my temple. "You sure you're not just sleepy?"
She shook her head, silver hair brushing her cheeks. "Hungry," she repeated stubbornly, her tail giving a tiny flick.
I sighed again, this time with a faint chuckle hidden underneath. "Alright, alright. You win."
I shifted in my seat, reaching into my item box and pulling out whatever I could find — a few slices of ham, some cheese, a loaf of bread that had seen better days. Still looked fine though. The preservation enchantments on this world's food were definitely something else. Back home, this would've smelled like regret by now.
"I guess I'll whip something up for you," I muttered, laying the ingredients out on a small pan.
Snow watched every movement like a hawk — or rather, like a starving kitten pretending to be polite. Her tail swayed slowly, and her nose twitched as she caught the faint scent of ham.
"「Fire Flame」."
A soft blaze flickered to life in my palm. The small flame danced at my fingertips, warm and steady, casting golden light across the carriage interior. The smell of toasted bread soon filled the air, mixing with the faint scent of dew and pine drifting through the cracked window.
My eyelids were heavy; my words came out in a yawn. "There. Done."
Snow's ears perked instantly. "Yay!" she chirped, her voice like the morning bell of a temple.
Before I could even hand it to her properly, she had already snatched the sandwich from my fingers, cradling it like treasure. She took a bite—and her entire face lit up.
"Mmm! So yummy!" she said through a mouthful, cheeks puffed out adorably.
"Don't talk with your mouth full," I said, but I was smiling.
Her tail wagged as she devoured the rest with enthusiastic nom, nom, nom sounds, like she'd been starved for days. Crumbs clung to her lips, and when she noticed me watching, she froze for a moment before wiping them off with the back of her sleeve, looking sheepish.
"See?" I teased softly. "Told you you'd like it."
"Snow likes Onii-chan's cooking," she said, beaming.
I blinked. "…Since when did I become Onii-chan?"
She tilted her head again. "You take care of me. So Onii-chan."
I sighed. "That's… not exactly how that works."
But the warmth in her tone made something soften in me. Maybe I didn't mind it that much.
After finishing, she let out a quiet burp, covering her mouth in surprise. Then, realising what she'd done, she giggled nervously and mumbled a small, "'Scuse me…"
I couldn't help but laugh under my breath. "You're hopeless."
The morning light was just beginning to creep in through the curtains, brushing the carriage walls in pale gold. Outside, the forest mist curled lazily around the trees, the world half-asleep. Inside, everything felt still — warm — peaceful.
"Alright, time to sleep," I said softly, tucking away the remnants of our little midnight meal. "No more snacks until the next stop."
Snow blinked up at me, already looking drowsy. "Okay…" she murmured, her voice trailing off.
I reached over, gently tucking her beneath a blanket. Her tail curled around her small frame, and she shifted slightly, making a little cocoon of warmth in the corner of the carriage.
Just as I leaned back to rest, a tiny hand tugged on my sleeve.
I looked down. Her eyes — half-lidded, but still glimmering — gazed up at me.
"Can… Snow hold on?" she asked softly.
"…Huh?"
"Just a little," she whispered. "Scary at night…"
My heart skipped a beat. "You mean… a hug?"
She nodded shyly, her voice barely audible. "Just until morning…"
For a moment, I didn't move. I could feel my face warming — ridiculous, considering I'd faced monsters without blinking, but a single sleepy fox girl had me hesitating like a flustered fool.
I exhaled. "…Fine. Just this once."
Her expression brightened instantly, and before I could change my mind, she scooted closer and wrapped her arms around my waist. Her warmth pressed against me, soft and light, and I could feel her breathing slow as sleep began to take her.
"Warm…" she murmured, her words fading into a sigh.
I stayed still, listening to the rhythm of her breaths, the faint creak of the carriage wheels, and the whisper of dawn wind through the trees. It was oddly calming — like the world had decided to pause for just a moment.
"You really are trouble," I whispered, brushing a hand through her hair.
Her tail gave one last sleepy flick.
And even though I told myself it was just to make sure she didn't roll off the seat, I stayed there — letting her cling to me, her warmth seeping through the cold air — until sleep claimed us both.
Rays of light spilled gently through the thin curtains of the carriage, painting soft streaks of gold across the wooden floor. The world outside was quiet save for the faint rustle of leaves, the distant call of morning birds, and the low creak of the wheels settling against the dirt.
I blinked my eyes open slowly, a groggy haze clouding my vision. The faint chill of dawn brushed against my cheeks, cold enough to make me shiver.
"...Morning already?" I muttered under my breath, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
The first thing I noticed was warmth — faint, but present. Snow was still asleep, her small arms wrapped snugly around my waist, her breath soft and steady. Her silvery hair caught the sunlight like threads of frost, glinting faintly with pinkish hues where the light touched.
For a moment, I just… watched. Peaceful wasn't a word I got to use often, but right then, in that dim carriage filled with the scent of dawn and her faint warmth against me — it felt like it fit.
Carefully, I pried her hands loose and laid her back down, making sure the blanket still covered her shoulders. She mumbled something incoherent, her ears twitching, but didn't wake.
I smiled faintly. "Sleep a bit longer, Snow."
Pushing the carriage door open, I stepped outside. A sharp breeze greeted me, immediately sending a shiver down my spine. "Cold… definitely autumn cold," I muttered, hugging my arms briefly before rubbing them to keep warm. The air smelled of wet earth and pine.
The campsite was quiet. Mist still clung to the edges of the forest, veiling the world in silver. Dew glittered across the fallen leaves like tiny gemstones.
I crouched near the fire pit I'd set up last night and flicked my fingers. "「Fire Flame」."
A flicker of crimson light bloomed in my palm before bursting into a small but steady blaze. The warmth seeped through the chilly air, making the world feel a little less frozen. I added a few sticks, feeding the flames until they crackled to life.
"Alright," I murmured, exhaling a faint sigh. "Breakfast time."
The fire popped, sending a tiny spark skyward. My stomach growled in agreement.
I wandered a short distance from the carriage, brushing aside the damp leaves. This forest wasn't too dangerous — a few small beasts, mostly harmless — but it was perfect hunting ground for small game. I crouched low, scanning the undergrowth until I spotted a flicker of movement: a brown-furred rabbit nibbling near a patch of moss.
"Perfect."
With a flick of my wrist, a small bit of astralis flowed to my hand. "「Wind Slice」."
A swift gust cut through the air — precise and clean. The rabbit fell instantly.
I let out a quiet breath. "Gotcha."
With the rabbit secured, I took a moment to wander through the surrounding grove, gathering what I needed for seasoning. Years of survival — and maybe a bit of past-life experience — had taught me to trust both my eyes and my nose.
Thyme — found near the roots of a mossy rock, its scent sharp and earthy.
Dried basil — a few clusters growing on a fallen log, their leaves curling faintly at the edges.
Pepper pods — small, dark beads hidden beneath broad leaves, spicy when crushed between my fingers.
And finally, a faintly citrus aroma led me to what I was hoping for: forest lemon leaf, pale green with a silver underside that shimmered when touched by the morning light.
I inhaled softly. "Perfect. Looks like Okaa-san's cooking lessons weren't for nothing after all."
A small smile tugged at my lips as I remembered the image — a younger me, standing awkwardly in a kitchen while my mother scolded me for burning rice. 'If you ever end up living alone, at least learn to cook something edible!' she'd said, wooden spoon in hand. Who'd have thought those forced lessons would be saving me in another world?
I returned to the fire with the rabbit and my gathered herbs. The flames danced merrily, casting warm light over the forest floor. I crouched down and got to work.
First, I cleaned the rabbit with a thin stream of conjured water. "「Aqua Veil」." The liquid swirled in the air before washing over the meat, sparkling faintly like liquid crystal as it ran off the rock. The faint smell of raw meat vanished, replaced by the clean scent of dew and pine.
Then came the careful part. With practised motions, I cut along the joints, peeling the fur cleanly away. The knife glinted under the rising sun, and the cool air filled with the faint metallic tang of fresh meat. I worked quietly, the only sounds being the distant song of waking birds and the soft hiss of the fire.
Once the meat was prepped, I crushed the herbs between my fingers — thyme releasing a rich, green aroma, basil sweet and warm, pepper sharp and biting. The forest lemon leaf added a bright edge that cleared the senses. I rubbed the mixture into the meat slowly, letting the oils soak in.
The surface of the rabbit glistened faintly with seasoning. My stomach gave an impatient growl. "Hold on, it's coming," I muttered to myself.
I gathered a few more sticks — maple, pine, and one from a cinnamon tree nearby. When burned together, they gave off a smoky-sweet fragrance. I skewered the rabbit pieces and held them above the fire.
The first hiss of fat meeting flame filled the air.
Then came the sizzle.
A rich, savoury aroma rose immediately, swirling through the crisp morning air like invisible silk. Fat droplets rolled off the meat and fell into the fire, where they popped and sparked with golden embers. Slowly, the flesh began to brown, taking on a crispy, golden sheen as I turned the skewer by hand.
I leaned closer, brushing on a glaze of honey from a small vial I'd tucked away — Yukihime's honeycomb fruit essence, golden and thick like liquid sunlight. As it touched the meat, the surface began to glisten, the sugars caramelising instantly.
The smell was divine. Sweetness mixed with smoky spice, carried by the chilly wind that rolled through the trees. I could almost see the flavour — amber glaze bubbling at the edges, dark spots crisping perfectly, steam curling upward in lazy ribbons.
I turned the meat once more, carefully and slowly, watching the juices bubble and drip down. The glaze shimmered, and the scent deepened — the kind that wrapped around your senses and refused to let go.
A satisfied smirk found its way to my lips. "Heh. Guess Okaa-san would be proud after all."
It wasn't long before the scent did its job.
Behind me, the carriage door creaked open.
"Mmm… smells good…"
Snow stumbled out, rubbing her eyes with tiny fists. Her ears drooped sleepily, her tail swaying sluggishly behind her. She still looked half-asleep, wrapped in a blanket that trailed slightly on the ground.
"Morning, sleepyhead," I said, turning the skewer. "You finally decided to wake up."
"Morning…" she mumbled, her voice soft and slurred. Then her nose twitched. "Is that… meat?"
"Rabbit," I replied. "Caught it just now."
She blinked, her pink eyes widening. "Snow wants!"
I chuckled. "Patience. It's still cooking."
She plopped herself down beside me, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Her tail flicked restlessly as the smell grew richer. The firelight reflected in her eyes, turning them into tiny pink gems.
When the meat was finally done, I tore off a small piece and handed it to her.
She accepted it with both hands, blowing gently before taking a cautious bite. The moment she chewed, her expression softened — and then brightened all at once.
"Hot… but yummy!" she said, smiling through a puff of steam. "Really yummy!"
I couldn't help laughing. "You say that every time."
"'Cause it's true!" she insisted, her cheeks puffed adorably as she took another bite.
I cut off a piece for myself, leaning back against a tree. The flavour was everything I hoped it would be — tender inside, smoky and crisp outside, with a faint sweetness that lingered on the tongue. The lemon leaf gave it just enough brightness to balance the honey, while the pepper left a subtle warmth in my mouth. Maybe it was the cold air or Snow's smile beside me, but somehow, it tasted better than anything I remembered.
Snow finished her piece quickly and looked up, eyes glinting with mischief. "Can Snow have more?"
I raised an eyebrow. "You sure you're not part wolf?"
She pouted, clutching her blanket. "Foxes eat lots, too!"
"Right, right," I said with a sigh, giving her another piece. She beamed as if she'd just won a great battle.
We ate together quietly for a while — the only sounds being the crackle of fire and the occasional chirp of birds waking in the distance.
When the last bite was gone, Snow stretched with a satisfied sigh. "Full…" she murmured, leaning slightly against my shoulder.
I glanced down at her, a faint smile tugging at my lips. "You're going to make me lazy too, you know."
"Then be lazy," she said, her voice half-asleep again. "Just a little longer…"
I didn't argue. The warmth of the fire, the cold morning air, the quiet forest — it all felt too peaceful to break.
So, I stayed. Letting her rest her head against me, her tail brushing lightly against my arm. The fire crackled softly before us, and somewhere in the distance, the first sunbeam finally broke through the trees.
A new day had begun.
When we were finally ready to move on, I said, "Those people who tried to kidnap you aren't going to chase you anymore. Do you think you can make it to your home by yourself?"
Instantly, her eyes widened in fear—the colour drained from her face as panic seized every corner of it. Her small hands clutched at my shirt with trembling desperation, and tears welled up, glimmering like fragile glass in the fading light. She didn't need to say a word; her answer was already written in the quiver of her lips and the way her body shook against me.
"No?" I murmured, trying to sound gentle. "Look, I need to get home too. You've been wandering around this forest for the past six years, right? There's nothing to be afraid of."
I sighed softly as I tried to pry her tiny fingers from my shirt.
"But Snow's Papa said…" her voice cracked faintly, "that if Snow wanders in the forest alone, Snow will get eaten by the other animals… like Mama did."
My hands froze mid-motion. For a heartbeat, the forest fell completely silent—only the faint rustle of leaves bearing witness to her trembling confession. I turned slowly toward her, my voice low and uneven.
"Snow… I—I'm sorry. I didn't know."
Her teary eyes blinked once, twice, and then—suddenly—a bright, innocent smile replaced her sorrow. "It's okay! Nii-chan doesn't know a lot of things!"
A faint, awkward laugh escaped me. "Ah… yes. Apparently so."
Overwhelmed by guilt and the soft warmth of that smile, I finally gave in to her pleading gaze. With a quiet sigh, I adjusted my path and followed her through the forest—toward the home she called her own.
The evening light filtered between the trees, wrapping us in a gentle glow as our footsteps disappeared into the whispering woods.
That was how our strange journey together began.