The Adventurers' Guild towered proudly in the heart of the bustling city. Its walls were thick, built from gray stone, draped with tattered banners marked with the emblem of a sword and wings. From the outside, it resembled a fortress more than a guild hall. Yet once the massive wooden doors creaked open, the inside was a stark contrast—lively, loud, filled with laughter, the clinking of mugs, and the rattle of coins across gambling tables.
On the ground floor, dozens of adventurers mingled together. Some were drunk, roaring out old war songs, others boasted of their scars to their companions, while a noisy group haggled over quests pinned on the announcement board. The air was thick with the mingling scents of hot stew, bitter ale, and sweat—the unmistakable aroma of warriors' camaraderie.
But on the second floor, the atmosphere shifted entirely. Quiet halls stretched out, lined with modest rooms. In one of them, Genshiki lay unconscious. A half-open window let in the fading light of the afternoon, casting shadows across his face.
The woman who had carried him here—shoulder-length black hair, gentle eyes—sat by the bedside. She soaked a cloth in a basin of water, wrung it out slowly, and laid it across his forehead. His breathing was heavy, but steady.
"Father, will he be all right?" she asked softly, worry lacing her voice.
The white-haired man leaning in the doorway gave a calm nod. His gaze was sharp, yet his lips curled in a faint smile. "The boy is merely exhausted. What he needs is time, not pity."
The woman lowered her eyes, cheeks tinged with red. "Understood, Father…"
She turned back to Genshiki's face.
"For some reason… I feel like I've seen this face before. But… where?" she whispered as she dabbed his brow. Quickly, she shook her head. "Perhaps it's only my imagination."
Still, she tended to him with quiet care, occasionally stealing long looks at his sleeping expression.
From the doorway, her father observed. His eyes pierced deep, as though reading secrets in the shadows. "…So this is the young man I saw that day," he murmured. "Walking toward the city's heart, while everyone else fled. But… for what?"
---
Three days passed.
The guild never quieted—laughter, shouting, even the occasional brawl drifted up from below. But in that second-floor room, there was only silence, broken only by the ticking of an old clock on the wall.
On the bed, Genshiki's eyes fluttered open. Dim light spilled through the window, blurring his vision. His tongue was dry, his throat parched.
"Wh… where is this…?" His voice cracked, barely audible. He stared at the unfamiliar ceiling in confusion. "Am I… home?"
The door creaked open. The woman entered, carrying a fresh cloth. When she saw him awake, she froze—then her eyes widened.
"You… you're awake!" she gasped, voice trembling between relief and panic. Without realizing it, tears streamed down her face. "Thank goodness…"
She wiped her cheeks hastily, confused at her own reaction. "Eh… why am I…?" she muttered, unable to answer herself.
Genshiki simply stared. His eyes were empty, cold—the gaze of someone who had stared too long into nothingness. He tried to sit up, but his body was heavy. Then his stomach growled.
The woman gave a small smile. "You're hungry, aren't you? Wait here—I'll bring you something to eat."
She rushed out, hiding her tear-streaked face.
---
Downstairs in the kitchen, her younger sister was busy preparing meals for the adventurers. The girl was bright-eyed, with her hair tied high, her expression lively and curious. She noticed her older sister rush in.
"Hey, didn't you already eat?" she asked, stirring a pot of stew.
"Eh? Y-yes, but… I'm hungry again," her sister replied nervously.
The younger one narrowed her eyes, then grinned mischievously. "Ehh? Don't tell me this is for that handsome stranger you've been nursing?"
"N-not at all!" her sister sputtered, her face turning crimson. "This is… for me!"
"Heh… sure, sure. Take it then. But you're helping me later. Tonight will be packed with adventurers."
"Yes, yes, I'll help," she answered hurriedly, snatching a bowl of steaming food.
---
She returned upstairs, easing the door open. Genshiki still lay there, staring at the ceiling.
"Um… here," she said awkwardly, holding out the bowl. "Eat, if you're hungry."
His gaze shifted toward her. Silence hung between them. Then, slowly, he took the bowl, saying nothing, and began to eat. His movements were calm, yet cold—like a man who had long forgotten gratitude.
She lingered, waiting, hoping for a word. But the only sound was the clink of spoon against bowl.
"If you need anything… just call," she offered softly, trying to pierce the wall of silence.
But Genshiki remained wordless. Only his hollow stare answered her.
Flustered, she left, hurrying back to her sister.
At the doorframe, the father stood once more. His eyes followed Genshiki intently, noting every detail. There was something in the boy that stirred both caution… and curiosity.
To be continued >