I'll watch him."
Uncle Garen's voice was calm, but firm.
Mother folded her arms. "That doesn't answer my concern."
"It's the city, Garen," Father added. "He's seven."
"I was fighting goblins at fourteen," Garen said dryly. "And I'm not taking him to the frontier. Just the city. Markets. Streets. Let him see the world a little."
Mother sighed. "He's not like you."
"I know," Garen replied, softer now. "That's why I want to take him."
I stood quietly nearby, pretending very hard not to listen.
Father glanced at me. "…He has been asking."
Mother hesitated, then pointed a finger at Garen. "You lose him, and God so help me."
Garen grinned. "Deal."
The city was overwhelming.
Stone buildings rose higher than anything in the village. People filled the streets shoulder to shoulder, voices blending into one constant hum. There were smells I couldn't name and sights I didn't have words for.
"Stay close," Uncle Garen said, resting a hand on my shoulder. "Cities eat careless kids."
"I will," I said honestly.
Five minutes later, I was staring at a floating crystal lantern bobbing gently above a shop.
"…How is that not falling?"
"Magic," Garen replied. "Don't stare."
I stared harder.
We stopped at a food stall. Garen immediately got into a heated argument with the vendor over prices, gesturing wildly.
I took a step back.
Someone brushed past me.
Another person blocked my view.
I turned—
And Uncle Garen wasn't there.
My chest tightened.
"Uncle?" I called.
No response.
The crowd shifted, carrying me along like a current. I tried to push back, but I was small, and the city didn't care.
I stumbled into a quieter street and nearly collided with someone.
"Hey—!"
I looked up.
A girl about my age stood there, blinking at me. Her clothes were clean and well-made, the kind I'd only seen on merchants or nobles passing through town.
She tilted her head. "You look like you fell out of the crowd."
"…I think I did," I admitted.
She smiled. "Good. Me too."
That didn't sound right, but I didn't know enough about the city to question it.
We walked together.
She stared openly at street stalls. "Why are there so many shops selling the same thing?"
"Different prices," I said. "Probably."
She frowned. "People care about that?"
I shrugged. "They have to."
Later, she asked, "Is this bread… expensive?"
I squinted at the price sign. "Very."
"Oh," she said, unbothered. "That's odd."
I didn't ask why.
When I asked where she lived, she gestured vaguely. "Somewhere big."
That was as specific as she got.
We watched a street performer juggling metal balls.
One slipped.
Before it hit the ground, it slowed.
Just slightly.
Enough that no one noticed.
Except me.
She clasped her hands behind her back and hummed.
"Did you do that?" I asked carefully.
She blinked. "Do what?"
"…Never mind."
She didn't understand money.
Didn't understand crowds.
Did understand magic far better than she should.
I didn't understand half the city.
Did understand danger.
Somehow, it balanced out.
A man in polished armor stepped into our path.
Royal crest.
Royal guard.
The girl froze.
"Oh," she said softly. "Already?"
The guard knelt. "You wandered again."
She sighed. "The city's interesting."
His gaze flicked to me—sharp, assessing.
I lowered my eyes.
As they turned to leave, she brushed past me and slipped something into my coat.
A small book.
Warm.
I hid it instinctively.
Some habits came from my first life.
Others, from survival.
She waved. "Bye."
And she was gone.
"THERE YOU ARE!"
Uncle Garen grabbed me, hands shaking. "I turned around and you were gone!"
"I'm sorry," I said immediately.
He exhaled hard, pulling me close. "…Let's go home."
As we walked, he muttered, "Please don't tell your mother."
I nodded.
Inside my coat, the book pulsed faintly.
Whatever that girl was—
She wasn't just lost.