"Chirp… chirp…"
The morning air carried the scent of damp earth and faint woodsmoke.
In the small field behind the house, Rian was already drenched in sweat.
He rolled up the loose fabric around his forearms with a quiet groan.
"Ah… this shirt is too big," he muttered.
Nearby, the Grandfather smiled as he pulled stubborn weeds from the soil.
"The crops look healthier this season," he said calmly. "They respond well to care."
Then he glanced at Rian.
"Being half-human here is really uncommon, my boy. May I ask how you turned out to be half human?" the Grandfather gently asked Rian.
Hearing this, Rian zoned out, his mind processing it for a while. Then he replied,
"My mother was human… She was in big trouble when she first met my dad, who was a normal monster. He helped her survive, and they fell in love. Then they married and had me—a half-human boy," Rian replied.
"Just like how you are helping Yurim survive?" the Grandfather asked.
coughs—Rian coughed and looked away, then went back to removing weeds from the soil.
The Grandfather smiled.
"You have a good rhythm, boy," he said, leaning on his shovel. "Most city folk don't know how to talk to the dirt."
Rian didn't look up, but his shoulders eased.
"It's quiet here," he replied. "I like the work."
When the sun climbed higher, the Grandfather reached into his vest and pulled out a small roll of paper notes. He held them out.
Rian froze, dirt still under his fingernails. He stepped back immediately, shaking his head.
"I didn't do this for money," he said stiffly.
"I know," the Grandfather replied gently. "And I'm not paying you. You gave me your morning—and your strength."
Rian hesitated.
The old man smiled and pressed the notes into his hand anyway.
---
Inside the kitchen, the mood was entirely different.
The air was rich with boiling herbs and warm broth. Mira stood by the stove, humming softly as she stirred a large pot.
Her movements were light, almost joyful—more at peace than she had been since they arrived.
The door creaked open.
Yurim shuffled in, hair a mess, eyes half-closed.
"Mmm… someone's happy today," she teased, leaning against the doorframe.
Mira startled, then laughed. "Look who finally woke up. Did the house's magic call you?"
She stirred the pot again, then hesitated.
"Hey… do you know what Rian likes to eat? I mean—really likes?"
Yurim gave her a long, confused look.
She thought back to days of chaos and survival. A mischievous smile crept onto her face.
"Oh. I know exactly," she said seriously. "Stone soup. Extra crunchy."
"Yurim!" Mira glared, lifting the spoon threateningly—though she was smiling too.
"Tea, Mira!" the Grandfather called from outside.
Mira quickly prepared a tray, carefully setting aside a bowl of soup she'd clearly spent time perfecting.
"Yurim, can you get the rice pot from the upper shelf?" she asked, already heading out.
"Sure," Yurim replied.
Left alone, Yurim watched Mira go, her smile fading into curiosity.
Was she always this bright? she wondered.
---
On the porch, Rian sat on the steps, staring at the excess fabric pooling around his boots.
"Grandfather… I think these clothes might be a little too much," he said quietly.
The old man covered his mouth, shoulders shaking.
"They are perfect," he said. "You look like a strong boy wearing a very brave tent."
Mira arrived just then, setting the tray down. She gently slid the bowl toward Rian.
"Please," she said softly. "I made it special. To thank you… for the shore."
Rian looked at the soup, then at her. Slightly flustered, he reached for the bowl.
Just as he lifted it—
"TADPOLE!"
A sharp scream came from the kitchen, followed by a loud THUD.
"Yurim!"
Rian dropped the spoon and bolted inside.
He was off the porch and through the door before Mira could even blink.
They found Yurim sprawled on the floor, rubbing her back and groaning.
Rian stared down at her, panic fading into annoyance.
"It seems," he sighed, crossing his arms, "you are officially best friends with trouble."
"I—" Yurim started.
"Tadpole?" Mira asked, confused. "Why did you scream that?"
Yurim's face turned red.
"I was just… singing. A song my friend used to sing."
"Oh… I see. Are you okay?" Mira asked, looking concerned.
"I'm okay," Yurim gave an awkward laugh.
---
"Mira," Yurim giggled, looking at Rian's flapping sleeves,"don't you think something here is extremely funny?"
Rian turned as the Grandfather entered.
"Do you happen to have a sewing machine?" he asked. "Or rope. Lots of rope."
The old man chuckled, resting a hand on his shoulder.
"The village market opens today," he said. "Go find something that fits a hero."
Their laughter lingered—warm, bright, and fleeting.