The shafts of light slipping between the trees looked no different from any other afternoon.

  But the air…

  the air was wrong.

  It didn’t smell of rain.

  Nor of freshly turned soil.

  Nor even of late blossoms.

  It smelled… too clean.

  Too dry.

  As if the entire forest were holding its breath.

  No insects.

  No birds.

  Not even the usual scrapes of squirrels racing along branches.

  I shifted the firewood in my arms and quickened my pace.

  As I rounded the clearing, I saw the roof of the house.

  And just then, the door opened.

  It was Grandpa.

  His steps weren’t hurried, but they were firm.

  His shoulders—tense.

  His posture sharper than usual, like the stance he took during training.

  For a moment, he didn’t look like the farmer everyone thought he was.

  I didn’t see her.

  Only him.

  I frowned.

  I was about to call out—

  But something caught my eye.

  A shadow, skimming the edge of the field.

  Then another.

  Figures.

  Moving with too much caution to belong to a friendly visit.

  Not animals.

  Not neighbors.

  Intruders.

  My back tightened at once.

  My arm lowered the firewood without thinking—

  not from weight.

  From instinct.

  I didn’t run.

  I didn’t shout.

  I just walked.

  Longer strides.

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  Faster.

  Because something had invaded the field.

  And it wasn’t the wind.

  Then I saw the figure waiting for him.

  Taller than me.

  Moving like someone who knew he shouldn’t be there…

  and didn’t care.

  A slate-gray cloak with foreign embroidery at the edges.

  No crest.

  No identifying marks.

  On his right hand, he wore a black gauntlet, dull and lightless—

  as if it absorbed every glint that touched it.

  I didn’t know what it was.

  But I didn’t like it.

  They didn’t speak at first.

  They just stared at one another.

  Then the man stepped forward.

  「Thought you were dead.」

  Grandpa didn’t flinch.

  「Figured you’d burned with the rest when the manor went up.」

  He stayed silent.

  「Well… you people were always good at hiding things.」

  The man flicked his hand, as if swatting away an unpleasant memory.

  「Didn’t expect to find you here. She’s here, isn’t she?」

  Silence.

  Grandpa’s fists tightened.

  「But if you’re here…」

  The man paused.

  His brow knit slightly.

  「…No way.」

  His gaze shifted toward the house, then back to Grandpa.

  「Heard the rumors.

  That the cradle was empty.」

  「That in all that rubble… there wasn’t a child’s body to be found.」

  A crooked smile pulled at his lips.

  「So you saved the brat.」

  Grandpa didn’t deny it.

  Didn’t confirm it.

  But his silence was answer enough.

  「So it’s true.」

  The man smiled.

  Not mockingly.

  Like a hunter pleased to find there were more prey in the woods than expected.

  「That changes things.」

  He raised his gauntleted hand.

  The metal hummed—low, resonant—shivering through the air.

  「If she’s here… and the brat too…」

  「I don’t know what it means.

  And I don’t care enough to find out.」

  His eyes narrowed.

  「You made two mistakes, old man.

  Saving the kid…

  and failing to die with the rest.」

  My legs trembled.

  Not from fear.

  From understanding.

  Because I finally grasped what these seventeen years had meant to this man.

  「I’m ending this here.

  You.

  The brat.

  And I’ll take the princess back to the castle.

  You know she’s not good at waiting.」