Hours later, after we barely manage to scrape by enough herbs to meet the quota, the other porters and I finally drag ourselves toward where the rest of our group is waiting.

  As we draw closer, the warmth from the bonfire wafts against my skin comfortingly. It almost distracts me from how tired my whole body is. Almost.

  My joints feel like they’re grinding against sand, and I feel a deep, intense exhaustion in my bones. The tentacles aren't even bothering to lift themselves—more content to be dragged around on the ground.

  Yep. This is definitely the last time I take Mary’s suggestion. The only thing I got out of that whole thing was a core attack from the occasional landslide.

  Through the bond, several tentacles let out their version of a scoff at my resolution. A few even physically lift themselves just to turn their tips toward me in what I can guess is supposed to be a look.

  The moment the other porters and I arrive, we immediately disperse, all going our separate ways.

  Straightening my back, I begin scanning my surroundings. At the center of the giant bonfire are mostly hunters, chattering with relaxed expressions. The smell of roasted meat wafts through the air, making my stomach growl.

  Forcing my gaze away, I search for Mary. I spot the woman farther from the bonfire, somewhat away from a group of human porters.

  "Beatrice!" Mary calls, waving me over. "Get over here, you little rascal."

  Feeling a small smile tug at the corner of my lip, I quickly make my way toward her. As I draw closer, the woman immediately pulls me into a hug.

  Awkwardly holding my arms, I watch as my tentacles return her hug.

  "Jeez, what took you so long?" the woman says, letting go of me. "Thought I’d have to drag you back from the dead or something."

  "Technically, I’m already dead," I say with a shrug. "One is enough. I’d rather not experience dying again if I can help it."

  Before I can say anything else, Mary suddenly swivels her head behind me, slightly pushing me aside.

  "Oh, who is this?" she asks, jerking her head toward a certain familiar girl.

  "…Um, hi," the Essevian girl hesitantly says. "…Can I please join you, misses?"

  Slowly blinking my eyes, I frown and chew on my lip.

  Wait—when has that kid been following me? Why the hell didn’t I notice—

  Curling my right hand into a fist, I slowly glance at the tentacles. Several of them simply do their version of a shrug and casually drape themselves on the ground innocently.

  …Of course. These things still have some control just because I have full control of my body most of the time.

  Turning my attention back to the little girl, I’m about to open my mouth when Mary suddenly pulls the smaller Essevian into her arms.

  "Of course, sweetie," she gushes, petting the girl's hair up and down comfortingly. "Oh, thank god you’re alright."

  "Wait, no," I begin. "We can’t just—"

  Letting go of the girl, Mary grabs her face with both hands and begins moving it around, looking for signs of injury.

  "You were lucky you weren’t hurt," she tuts. "Seriously, where are your parents?"

  "…My parents aren’t around," the girl says sulkily, her head lowering slightly.

  Hearing the girl's words, part of me feels a small pinch of sympathy. The rest, however, triggers a knee-jerk reaction.

  That’s it? Why is she acting like her world just ended? There could be worse things. I know I’ve been thinking about this a lot, but people I meet outside Crystal Blossom City sure are weak.

  "Oh, I’m so sorry," Mary says, hugging the girl tightly again—almost to the point where the girl’s skin begins to turn an ugly purple shade.

  Letting go of the girl, she brushes some invisible dust off the younger Essevian’s hair.

  "Are you hungry?" the older woman asks. "You look cold. These clothes have way too many holes in them."

  "Mary," I try again, taking a step forward. "…I don’t think we should—"

  "Oh, right—sit here," Mary says, pushing the girl to sit on a random log. "You must be cold. I need to see if there are some extra warm clothes."

  Before I can say anything else, the woman has already rushed off somewhere, carrying her sewing kit and what suspiciously looks like a piece of hide.

  Smiling sweetly, I close my eyes. Through the bond, I can feel the tentacles shrinking in on themselves.

  …Ah. Wasn’t there a service that offers to hack an Essevian’s tentacles off?

  Hours later, I sit beside Mary, staring at the small blazing bonfire I manage to start.

  Picking up a stick, I poke at the flames.

  Not bad. Not as good as the bonfire the hunters are using, but better than my usual.

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  Most tentacles are unconscious, deep in slumber. The remaining ones are starting to follow them as well, their consciousness slowly drifting off.

  Looking toward the corner of my eye, I can see Mary crouching beside the Essevian girl, who is sound asleep.

  "Looks like the little bugger is asleep," Mary says, brushing a strand of hair away from the girl's face. "I'm glad."

  The woman stares at the girl for a moment before letting out a resigned sigh. As she ambles her way toward the fire, I slowly scoot over to make some space for her.

  "Poor girl," Mary says, sitting down beside me. "To think she would have lost her parents at such a young age, and then had to deal with... everything else."

  Briefly looking away from the flames, I glance at the woman.

  "You two seem awfully close in such a short time," I state.

  Giving me a smirk, Mary raises one eyebrow. "What can I say? I’m just great with people."

  Rolling my eyes, I let out a small huff. A long silence follows as we sit together, letting our bodies warm up from the fire.

  "...I never wanted to talk about this before, considering how sensitive the situation is, but..." Mary trails off, letting out a small hum.

  Letting out a loud sigh, the woman slowly breathes in. "...Do you ever miss it? Your old life? Before all..."

  Mary gestures at the tentacles. "All this?"

  Curling my legs in, I lower my gaze to the ground. Memories of days long past flash across my mind. Of defeating monsters with close friends who were almost like family. Of fighting alongside each other against an army of lizardmen. Of blood. One memory keeps pushing to the front, determined to surface despite my efforts to bury it over the years.

  "Beatrice!" Trevor calls out, flashing me a cheerful grin. "There you are!"

  Shaking my head, I push the memory back down.

  "A bit," I answer with a shrug. "...But it’s in the distant past now."

  Pausing, I bite my lip. Bile rises in my throat as something in my chest tightens.

  ...It’s not like there was much of anything left waiting for me by the time I turned, anyway.

  "Hmm. How about an old goal, then?" Mary says, cupping her chin. "Maybe we could try to fulfill it."

  "No," I answer. "At least not anymore."

  Tilting my head to one side, I hum. "I suppose at some point life just got too overwhelming, and I can’t remember what it was anymore."

  Glancing off to the side, I bite down harder on my lip.

  ...Besides, it was probably something silly. I made that goal when we were just kids.

  From the corner of my eye, I see Mary silently nodding along with me. Despite her muscles vibrating with the urge to hug me, the woman is doing her best to contain herself. Feeling my shoulders relax a bit, I lean back on my arms.

  ...As annoying as it is not to recall it—or much of my childhood, really—I think I’ve found my new goal.

  "Anyway, enough about me," I say, rolling my head back. "What about you?"

  The woman pauses, looking like she wants to say something, before stopping. With a shake of her head, Mary quickly puts a smile on her face.

  "Wow, I’m hurt," Mary says with a fake huff. "All that time spent pouring my soul out, telling you the same spiel."

  Placing a hand over her chest like she’s personally wounded, she sniffs. "Oh, what’s the point in telling you, anyway?"

  Staring down at her, I watch as she briefly opens one eye, still holding her dramatic offended pose.

  ...Sometimes, I wonder if I should pretend to forget. We both know she enjoys talking about it so much that people’s ears would fall off if given the chance.

  "Oh, would you look at that," I say, starting to get up. "I think there’s a penguin-shaped rock over there."

  Before I can fully stand, the woman grabs my arm and gently pushes me back into a sitting position.

  "If I must," Mary says, staring at me with half-lidded eyes.

  "Once we gather enough funds, I’ll buy a small little building," she begins. "One with shiny wooden floors that aren’t rotting or sticky when you step on them. Beautiful walls without holes or mold. Like one of those expensive-looking ones on TV. One owned only by me."

  Deciding to fall back into the usual routine, I let my eyes almost close to slits.

  "Have you decided what you want it to be?" I casually ask, the words flowing smoothly off my tongue.

  "A tea shop," she answers. "My shop will be filled with so many colorful tea packages they’ll shine like diamonds."

  "Maybe you should learn how to use instant tea packets first."

  "Hey! It’s progress!" she huffs. "I can make it now without burning it even once."

  "Of course."

  "How about a bed and breakfast, then?" Mary suggests.

  "Not bad. But any idea who to hire as our chef?" I ask.

  "I’m sure there are plenty of candidates," she says, waving her hand dismissively. "There’s always going to be someone."

  Giving me a cheeky grin, Mary snickers. "Besides, if needed, we can always have you as the chef."

  "Oi."

  "How about the interior?" Mary asks. "Any ideas?"

  "Hmm. Perhaps something simple?" I raise one finger. "Nothing wrong with beige."

  Mary makes a gagging sound. "Yup, just what I love. Boring beige."

  "It’s not boring," I say. "It’s a neutral color and goes well with everything. Plus, it won’t offend anyone."

  "It lacks excitement. We need something else too."

  Letting out a sigh, we both close our eyes in thought.

  "Ooh! With butterscotch-colored wallpaper!" we both say at the same time.

  A smile spreads across Mary’s face before she breaks into full-on barking laughter. Feeling the corner of my mouth twitch, I let out a small chuckle.

  Our laughter rings out into the night before slowly subsiding into a comfortable silence.

  "We’re still a long way off," Mary groans. "I’m going to be at least fifty by the time it happens."

  "Well, look on the bright side," I say. "It will be entirely your effort. And as you like to say, no ‘pesky loan sharks or debtors’ trying to take it."

  "That’s right!" Mary cheers.

  Another silence follows as I watch her slowly lay back on the ground, getting comfortable.

  "You’ll be there when it opens, right?" Mary tentatively asks.

  "Of course," I nod. "That’s a given."

  Once we finally achieve Mary’s goal, where else would I go? I’d rather just spend the rest of however long my existence is with her.

  As we begin to settle into the comfortable silence, some movement far to my right catches my eye.

  Far away from where the giant bonfire gathers most of the hunters, I can see a few of them clustered beneath one of those trees with sprouted roots. One of them I can identify — it’s Mark.

  "What do you think they’re doing?" Mary asks.

  "Probably discussing the job they were hired for," I answer. "While we porters are mostly hired for carrying stuff and other things, many jobs have hunters do additional tasks on top of what they were originally hired for — more money that way."

  Raising my fingers, I start listing them.

  "For dungeons, it could be things like killing a boss monster, or just temporarily knocking it out whichever comes first. Killing enough of a certain type of monster. Killing monsters for specific materials. That kind of thing."

  "Do you know what they’re looking for?" Mary asks.

  Shaking my head, I sigh. "No."

  "One of those, huh?" Mary mutters. "It’s annoying not knowing everything about a quest sometimes."

  Nodding, I tilt my head slightly to one side. "Agreed."

  "But that doesn’t mean you should try to pry that information out," I remark, staring down at Mary as she freezes in place. "Just because you’re still alive doesn’t mean you’re immortal."

  Last time I tried to figure out what was going on… it didn’t end well. Ugh. My back still hasn’t fully recovered from when they snapped my spine in half. I seriously doubt Mary would stand a chance if something like that happened to her.

  "Anyways, don't worry too much about it," I say, already pushing her to turn away. "It's probably nothing."

  Jabbing a finger at the older woman’s forehead, I frown.

  "I might be fine missing a night or two, but you’re not," I state. "Gotta sleep."

  The woman makes a disgusted face at my suggestion, like I just asked her to eat poop lying on the ground.

  "I guess you’re right," Mary sighs, already getting up. "Well, I guess it’s pretty late. Might as well turn in for the night."

  Watching as the woman moves toward her bag, I briefly flick my eyes toward the group.

  …It’s none of my business. Best not to get involved.