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    It was too definitive a tone to be just a guess. Haran, his wariness deepening, looked ready to draw his sword at any moment. 

    Merdina swallowed silently and asked, “What makes you think so?”

    “A mage’s heart has a unique rhythm.”

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    It was true that mages possessed mana circuits called ‘vessels’ in their bodies, but Merdina had never seen anyone pinpoint it like taking a pulse.

    “He should be dead, yet he clings to life. It was foolish to wander through Grenrosha carrying a patient like this.”

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    “How do you know that? Do you know a way to heal him?”

    Haran interjected. But the man shook his head.

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    “I’m not a physician or a cleric. Even if I were, I doubt there’d be much I could do. This man’s ‘vessel’ is damaged, isn’t it?”

    “…..”

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    “If he were going to die, he would have already. It seems he’s recovering on his own, so he’ll live even if left alone.”

    “How can you be so certain?”

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    “So many questions.”

    Muttering as if annoyed, the man pushed the two knights out with one hand and carelessly assigned them sleeping arrangements.

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    “You, the attic. You, the living room.”

    “And you?”

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    The man gestured to the room.

    “This is my room.”

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    “That’s unacceptable.”

    Haran stepped forward. Even if their lord wasn’t an easy opponent, he was currently unconscious. They couldn’t leave him in the same room with a man whose identity they didn’t know.

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    “You seem to misunderstand.”

    A cool gaze fell on Haran.

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    “If I meant to kill you, I would have already. Before you even set foot in this cabin.”

    “…..”

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    “Stay put. I said those who enter this forest rarely leave alive.”

    The man tilted his head. While the two knights were momentarily captivated by the red hair cascading over his shoulders, the corners of the man’s lips curved upwards.

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    “Do you truly believe that’s solely because of the beasts?”

    “…..”

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    His eyes, when they met theirs, were a deep, dark black. The two knights felt a wave of powerlessness they’d never experienced before.

    “It’s already dawn, but get some sleep. Morning comes late in the forest.”

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    After his calm threat, the man tossed them the blanket piled on the living room chair. Then he returned to his room and carelessly closed the creaking door.

    Haran, catching his breath, lowered his voice.

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    “…Did he just threaten to kill us if we stepped out of line?”

    “I’d say so.”

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    Haran exhaled deeply. His fingertips trembled slightly. It was a fear unlike any he had known.

    “I didn’t sense him at all until he had a blade to your throat. Even though I was right behind you.”

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    “Likewise.”

    Ha…”

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    Haran wrestled with the urge to burst back into the room and rescue their lord. But Merdina shook his head.

    “If he wanted us dead, all three of us would be corpses by now. Without even knowing who killed us or why.”

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    “Just who is he?”

    At the despairing question, Merdina’s lips parted.

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    “I have a suspicion.”

    “…..”

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    “You probably do, too.”

    Their gazes locked. Haran’s eyes wavered.

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    “He’s dead.”

    “That’s what they say. But no one saw the body.”

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    “…..”

    “Red hair, overwhelming power, the only person His Highness would seek out in his last moments.”

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    “Surely not…”

    “If there’s another person in this world who fits that description, I’d sooner believe the dead walk among us.”

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    “So, you think it’s really him? Alive?”

     

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    * * *

     

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    Morning in the forest held a unique kind of peace. Topaz roughly combed his red hair with his fingers and tied it up high. He grabbed an empty basket from the empty living room and stepped out of the cabin. A familiar chilly wind greeted him.

    Overgrown weeds interspersed with vibrant red poisonous plants, the screeching of birds that sounded more like cries of agony than song. He had grown accustomed to this chaotic scene.

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    Ordinary animals inhabited this forest, but magical beasts were far more common. There were also mutated creatures that were neither beast nor magical beast—things like two-headed wolves and squirrels with skeletal wings.

    A growl. The house-sized brown bear that appeared before Topaz was a regular animal, at least. Its sharp claws could tear him to shreds, but at least it didn’t have two heads or spit venom.

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    The brown bear, after sizing him up, charged. The ground trembled. Topaz kicked a loose stone into the air, caught it in his left hand, and hurled it.

    Thwack! The fist-sized stone struck the bear squarely between the eyes. The bear roared as if impaled, then crumpled to the ground.

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    A nuisance, so early in the morning.

    Topaz dusted off his hands and resumed picking berries, filling his basket. Edible and inedible plants grew side-by-side in this forest.

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    One needed a keen eye to survive—though anyone with a will to live wouldn’t be foraging for berries in this forest—but after years of seclusion, Topaz could distinguish the safe from the deadly with a simple sniff. A constitution that could shrug off most poisons after a few days of discomfort had made him somewhat careless.

    On his way back to the cabin, he’d acquired a companion. A snow-white fox emerged from the undergrowth. Topaz tossed it a handful of berries, a familiar ritual. The fox darted forward, gobbling them down with happy little noises.

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    Topaz entered the cabin, leaving the creaking door ajar. He set the basket on the table and cut a chunk of salted meat from a jar. He poured a handful of dried grains, purchased from the village, into a bowl and added goat’s milk.

    It was a relatively peaceful morning. If only those uninvited guests hadn’t shown up last night.

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    “If you’re awake, come and eat.”

    Topaz set three identical bowls on the table with a thud.

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    “…..”

    “…..”

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    The two figures climbed down the ladder from the attic. They’d seemed wary last night, but they must have slept, as they looked somewhat less haggard.

    “We didn’t have a chance to properly introduce ourselves last night,” the man said with a smile. He had dark brown hair and healthy, sun-kissed skin. A black, flat, diamond-shaped earring dangled from his right ear.

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    He wore a disarming smile, but the wary look in his eyes from last night seemed far more genuine.

    “I’m Haran. This is Merdina.”

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    Topaz doubted those were their real names, but he nodded curtly. Eating his dried grains before they went soggy was far more pressing. Crunch, crunch.

    “Aren’t you eating?”

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    Haran and Merdina, who had been staring blankly, sat across from him. There was only one spoon, but they seemed to know better than to complain. They lifted their bowls and drank.

    The group—two swordsmen and a mage—was an odd combination. And suspicious. They wore simple clothes, but a discerning eye could tell the fabric was high quality. Their speech and mannerisms spoke of privilege and education.

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    The man calling himself Haran was staring at the clump of grains at the bottom of his bowl. They couldn’t have eaten properly while wandering through the forest, so any normal person would have devoured every last morsel. But this one seemed perplexed by the lack of a spoon. Topaz, looking at him with a mixture of amusement and exasperation, tossed him his spoon.

    Whoosh. Haran caught it reflexively, a bewildered look on his face.

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    “…..?”

    Topaz nodded towards the bowl, and Haran finally began scooping up the remaining grains. Merdina, beside him, had already resigned himself to picking at the berries in the basket.

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    The white fox, having finished its share, had its snout buried in Merdina’s bowl, clearly claiming it as its own.

    “Is the fox raised by you?”

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    “Hardly.”

    Who would bother keeping a pet in this forest? Topaz finished his meal and absently stroked the fox nudging against him. Its tail wagged.

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    Haran and Merdina exchanged a silent look and shrugged.

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