"Tehee… it looks good on you."
"Well, not to me, you little rascal," Noa muttered, tugging lightly at his short hair as Lina giggled and twisted it into playful twin-tails.
This is me — Noa Ravel — sitting here, a grown man, being forced into childish hairstyles by a ten-year-old with more energy than a storm. How did I end up like this? Perhaps it would be best to start at the beginning, or at least attempt to piece together the threads of chaos that had brought me here.
***
Lina — a girl from a simple family in the Kingdom of Cyradis — had wandered into the slums alone, blissfully unaware of the lurking dangers that hung like shadows in every corner.
Her curiosity drew her eyes toward a commotion. A crowd had gathered, buzzing with whispers and tension, and at the center of it all stood a boy.
High-quality clothing, torn and soaked with blood. Limbs moving with a rhythm pushed beyond human limits. And eyes — black sclera with deep purple irises — that radiated a loneliness so vast, it felt like staring into a chasm where light could not reach. The boy met Lina's gaze for the briefest of moments, and in that fraction of a second, a silent understanding passed between them.
Then his body gave out.
He collapsed like a fallen statue, exhaustion and pain etched into every line of him.
Instinct pulled Lina forward, a thread of pity overriding fear. She ran toward him, heart pounding.
And then she was lifted.
"Lina, what are you doing?"
Her mother's voice cut through the chaos, tense but commanding.
"Mommy, please… help him," Lina whispered, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and hope.
Mara Ravel scanned the scene, confusion twisting her features. Shadows of danger danced along the walls. Strangers moved with sharp intent. Yet beneath it all, something stirred in her chest—a flicker of recognition, perhaps pity. The boy reminded her of someone long lost, a memory she had tucked away. No enemies pursued him. No allies defended him. And so, quietly, Mara decided to help.
***
And here we are.
Me, blinking in confusion, waking after passing out, in a small, modest home filled with the warmth of someone else's care.
"They helped me survive," I thought. Somehow, someway, I had made it through.
"We are in Thalaor," Mara explained gently, the faint sunlight spilling through the windows. "A kingdom a little further from Cyradis. We moved because of war."
War? Cyradis was embroiled in conflict?
That explained the absence of elite knights—only low-level soldiers patrolling, insufficient to maintain order.
"Now, now," Mara continued, brushing back a loose strand of hair, "let's head for lunch and talk while we eat."
Lunch. My stomach growled in agreement. Timing, as always, was perfect.
I donned the white shirt Mara had given me and followed her downstairs, Lina bouncing beside me like a comet with energy to spare.
…
As we waited for the meal, I tried small talk.
"Hey, what's your name?" I asked, offering a tentative smile.
"I'm Lina," she replied, her voice bright as sunlight spilling across a field.
"Oh! We forgot to introduce ourselves properly. I'm Mara Ravel, Lina's mother," she added with a polite nod.
"Uh… Mrs. Ravel, thank you for helping me," I said, the words catching in my throat. Saying "thank you" to someone for the first time in a long while caused a strange warmth to bloom in my chest. It wasn't feigned. It was genuine.
Mara placed bowls of stew on the table — simple, humble: root vegetables, beans, rich broth. The aroma alone was comforting, a gentle reminder that care itself could be as sustaining as any magic.
I took a sip.
Delicious.
Better than many of the meals I had eaten on Earth. Was it magic? Or simply the warmth of care poured into something as ordinary as food?
Mara's eyes studied me, calm yet piercing.
"Now that we are here… can I know your story?"
I hesitated.
My experiences were dark, chaotic, and brutal—too much for ordinary folk to bear. But they had saved me. And so, slowly, I began.
I recounted the day in the castle, the soldiers I had killed, the chase, the blood spilling across stone and earth. My voice trembled at first, then strengthened as memories pressed against my chest, demanding release.
"…and that's how it happened," I concluded, swallowing hard.
Mara's eyes remained calm, yet they cut through me like sunlight through fog.
After what I had done… perhaps I was unwelcome anywhere. It was a bitter thought, but realistic. An "enemy of god," they would call me. A dark omen wandering through the world.
"Sorry for the trouble," I murmured. "I'll leave once we finish the meal."
Mara shook her head, gentle but firm, a smile softening her features. "And where would you go, exactly?"
"Huh? Uhh… somewhere…"
"We're not going to eat you, you know," she said lightly, teasingly.
Caught off guard, I blinked. "…but… you don't want to keep a murderer in your house, right?"
Her gaze softened even further. "Your world may operate on fear and strength, but here? You didn't do anything wrong now. You were hurt, and we helped."
I tried to protest. "But my… bad omen…"
"Bad omen? I don't see any," Mara said.
Before I could respond, Lina piped up, eyes sparkling. "Yes! Your eyes… they're super cool!"
I froze. My chest warmed, a strange bliss washing over me. A family. Warmth. Kindness. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.
Lina noticed immediately, concern flickering across her face. Mara stepped closer and pulled me gently into a hug, letting my head rest against her stomach.
"…?"
"So… what happened? Tell me everything you're feeling. Let every bit of sadness out," she murmured.
I let it flow. Every thought, every memory I had buried in darkness. And for the first time in years, I felt no shame.
Sniff-sniff…
Mara finally pulled back. "See? Don't worry about omens or eyes. You don't need to hold back. Do what you wish in the world."
I looked at Lina. She was stifling laughter, hiding her grin, but her eyes were warm, endless.
Embarrassment struck me fully. A grown man, crying before a married woman and her child, recounting horrors endured.
Yep. Kill me.
…
Mara leaned back, smiling. "Noa, you are welcome to stay as long as you like. We cannot offer luxury, but it is safer than the streets. Of course, you'll have to help with things here."
"Help?"
"Yes. Teach Lina how to fight."
"Huh? Her? Why?"
She smiled knowingly. "A girl needs strength in this world. Swinging a sword is not just a hobby—it's a skill she'll need to survive."
I paused. "I just came here. I don't know anything about swords."
Mara's eyes widened. "You jest. No man could kill that many trained soldiers in a single day without skill of his own."
I shrugged. "Well… okay. I'll teach her. But don't expect exceptional results."
Mara clasped her hands together, grinning. "Good!"
"Yayy! Big brother Noa is—" Lina paused, uncertain. "Oh! What is your family name?"
Family name. A thought I had abandoned long ago. I wanted no trace of it to remain.
"Shinra," I said carefully. "But… I prefer you don't call me that."
Mara understood immediately. "Then take our name. It will make things simpler here, and… we're living together now anyway."
My eyes widened. "What? Wait, what—"
"Why? Is our family name bad?" Mara interrupted, amused.
"No, no, it's no—,"
"Really? It's bad?" Lina chimed in.
"Uh, no! It's great," I stammered.
Mara clasped my shoulder warmly. "Then welcome to the family, Noa Ravel."
"Yaayy!" Lina cheered.
Wha… huh?
These two… daughter and mother… impossible.
…
A whole kingdom was probably searching for me. Soldiers. Priests. Perhaps even heroes.
Yet… we were in another kingdom. Thalaor. And somehow… I felt stronger.
Strange. Like an empty barrel, hollow for years, slowly being filled with something I couldn't name.
Ravel… huh?
Wait. If we're family now… does that mean Mara is my adoptive mother?
Uhh. Let's not think too hard about that.
"What are you thinking about, big bro?"
Before I could respond, Lina leapt and wrapped her small arms around me from behind, nearly knocking me forward.
Big bro?
"Why are you calling me big bro?"
She stepped in front of me, puffed her cheeks, giving the most exaggerated puppy face imaginable.
"…I can't?"
Look at her. Manipulating me with that face. Impossible to resist.
"Why?" I asked, helpless.
"Because we're family now," she said, voice full of certainty. "You are big bro."
I opened my mouth to argue.
…then closed it.
Yeah. I couldn't refuse that.
We were outside the house—a modest wooden home resting quietly in the Thalaor Kingdom's Viremont dukedom. Houses spaced far apart, fields stretching in every direction, patches of wild grass dancing in the breeze. No city noise. No armored footsteps. No screams.
Just wind.
The night air was cool, carrying the scent of soil and distant crops. Fireflies flickered near the grass like fallen stars trying to find their way back to the sky.
I lifted my gaze.
The night sky was vast. Stars scattered like fragments of shattered glass, each one holding a secret, a story, a whisper.
Unable to find words for myself, I finally asked the question that had lingered in my chest since that day.
"Lina… why did you decide to help me?"
Her cheerful expression softened, thoughtful.
"When I looked at you," she began, slowly, "I remembered the loneliness I felt when I lost dad."
Ah.
So I was right.
She had lost her father. She looked up at me again, offering a calm, steady smile—less playful now, more grounded.
"Well… that's in the past. I have you now."
My chest tightened.
Sigh.
How could I possibly fight against that?
Before I could respond, she stepped closer and climbed onto my lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world. No hesitation. No awkwardness.
She leaned back against me, and together we watched the sky.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
The stars shimmered quietly, distant and eternal. The wind moved softly through the fields, brushing against us like a guardian unseen.
The stars above seemed brighter tonight. Almost as if they were smiling.
Or maybe…
It was me.
But night does not last forever.
Even the brightest stars must fade before the coming dawn.
Just like my white mask.