The calendar here runs on twenty terms a year, twenty blocks of time.

  As the train rolled on, the conversation between Antonio and Enid gradually thinned out.

  When the two of them finally fell quiet, Enid turned to the window and watched the scenery slide by.

  In the city center, she caught glimpses of solemn cathedrals, imposing castles, elegant townhouses, and carefully arranged street décor.

  Once the train left downtown, wide stretches of farmland and small villages took over the view, grain growing wild in the fields while livestock lazed in the sun.

  In the fragments of memory she still had, the last time Enid came to the imperial capital, Staleriat, had been a century ago.

  Back then the city had never truly recovered. There had been a large city once, but a sudden disaster had reduced it to ruins. Forget a magic train, you could barely find a handful of intact houses. Everywhere you looked, there was grief and despair.

  Yet in just a hundred years, what had been a hellscape had turned into a city of hope.

  The change was so drastic that Enid had honestly wondered, at first, if she’d gotten off at the wrong place.

  Short-lived races really were something, she thought. Their ability to reinvent the world only seemed to grow with time.

  Maybe it was because they didn’t have much time, so they tried anything new they could get their hands on.

  For immortals like Enid, especially greater immortals like Natural Elves who hardly ever “aged” at all, life was an endless road.

  Even stopping to wait a few hundred years felt like a single breath.

  That was why Enid genuinely admired the inventions and creations of short-lived races.

  They fascinated her in the same way nature-element magic did.

  So even after everything unpleasant that had happened in the past, she still loved the living beings on this land.

  Strictly speaking, she loved watching them, studying them.

  Besides, with the Twisting Curse inside her, she couldn’t remember much of her own past anyway.

  "The thing I’m riding in is called a magic train, right," Enid said, still looking out the window. "I’ve never seen anything this big, or this fast. In the hundred years I hid away in my tower, you built quite a few new toys."

  Antonio smiled.

  "After the last Great Slumber, you shut yourself in that tower deep in the forest and spent nearly a hundred years half-awake and half-out of it," he said. "In that time, the Empire didn’t see any major wars. A new emperor took the throne, and the whole country entered a golden age we’d never had before. Progress in both technology and magic moved fast."

  He sounded almost pleased with himself.

  "And trust me, there’s plenty more that will surprise you."

  Enid rested her chin in her hands, teasing in that mild, thoughtful way of hers.

  "Come on. You’ve been the one really running this country the whole time, haven’t you. Emperor or not, it’s still you. Didn’t the last emperor die over a decade ago? I heard the royal family only has one mixed-blood princess left."

  "That’s true," Antonio said, his eyes warming. "She’s adorable. I think you’ll meet her sooner or later. She’s not exactly the obedient type, either."

  He gave a small sigh that was half a joke.

  "As for me, I’ve been retired for years. I’m old, Enid. I can’t keep sitting in the chancellor’s chair forever."

  Antonio was happily talking about new inventions and how things had changed when Enid suddenly asked, almost casually, "Antonio, how long have we known each other?"

  He blinked, caught off guard.

  "More than five hundred years," he said after a beat. "For you, I suppose it might feel more like a hundred and thirty-one. Why ask now?"

  Enid didn’t answer the question. She kept going, as if thinking out loud.

  "I’ve been slipping in and out of sleep for a hundred years, and my memories still haven’t come back to me. I only recently managed to stay awake for long stretches."

  She frowned slightly, trying to piece it together.

  "So this Empire has been around for five hundred years. What was it called again?"

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  "The Stahill Empire," Antonio said, patient as ever. "The one you and we built together. It’s New Calendar Year 531, meaning it has existed for five hundred and thirty-one years. We witnessed the birth of the new Empire with our own eyes."

  He tilted his head.

  "So you were asking how long the Empire has been here. After living alone for a century, you didn’t even brush up on the basic calendar. I’m pretty sure I left stacks of introductory notes in your tower."

  Enid gave an embarrassed little smile.

  "Sorry. I have so many things to research. The ‘me’ from the past left behind a lot of notes and records worth studying."

  She glanced away, her tone softening.

  "And time just doesn’t feel important to me. History is like passing clouds. Blink once, blink twice, and it’s gone. It’s hard for me to hold on to dates and numbers, so don’t make it too hard on your teacher."

  Before she could finish, Antonio picked up his teacup and stirred the liquid with a small spoon, almost as if he were staring through the tea at something far away.

  The spoon circled slowly.

  He breathed in the aroma, lifted the cup, let himself sink into it for a moment.

  Then he drank it down and lingered on the aftertaste.

  The tea carried a strong floral scent, clean and sweet, almost cloying.

  It was Antonio’s favorite flower tea, called Longing, a private blend he had guarded like a secret.

  Someone he had once deeply respected had shared it with him.

  Antonio calmly poured himself another cup.

  That fragrance had stayed with him for five hundred years, and even now he couldn’t bring himself to let it go.

  Longing tasted exactly like its name.

  Longing itself was the sweetest kind of illusion.

  By the time Antonio finished his third cup, he glanced at Enid’s.

  She still hadn’t finished the first. The tea had gone cold.

  Enid didn’t seem to care about Longing one way or another.

  Antonio kept his easy, reassuring smile in place.

  Only those who truly knew him would have noticed what was underneath it.

  Antonio was in a terrible mood.

  Enid kept watching the scenery beyond the train window and didn’t notice the tiny shift in Antonio’s expression or the way his gaze lingered.

  A moment later, Antonio pulled himself together. He lowered his voice.

  "Do you know where the leaves for this tea were picked?"

  Enid thought for a bit.

  "I don’t, actually. Is it famous?"

  The lines on Antonio’s face seemed to deepen.

  So she still hadn’t remembered.

  "This tea was planted by you," he said quietly. "You told me you liked it. You even named it Longing. Strange name, but it suited you."

  Enid looked puzzled.

  She couldn’t recall anything like that. Her mind, sharp as any greater immortal’s should be, searched and searched, then came up empty.

  "Really? I don’t remember doing that." She gave a small, awkward laugh. "I’ve forgotten a lot, but this is…"

  Antonio kept smiling, but there was a seriousness to it now.

  "The Twisting Curse is getting worse again. Even a hundred years of rest didn’t bring back much of what you used to remember."

  Under that sharp look, Enid knew she couldn’t fool him. Not him.

  "...Maybe," she admitted.

  Antonio set his cup down, leaned back into the sofa like he was trying to look relaxed, one hand on the armrest and the other resting against his chin.

  "You once said the seeds could only be collected from deep in the northern snow mountains, from a pit saturated with elemental power," he said. "You said it could calm the mind, keep mana flowing smoothly, even ease curses."

  His eyes lowered.

  "But it doesn’t do much for yours. Not really."

  Enid wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come.

  She knew Antonio cared about the curse in her body even more than she did.

  As for the Twisting Curse itself, even Enid couldn’t remember when it had first appeared.

  And she still hadn’t found a way to cure it.

  Trying to comfort him, she thought for a moment, then spoke gently.

  "Don’t worry. I told you before, it’s not lethal. It just means I can’t use magic normally, and there’s some pain. I’m used to it."

  She softened her voice further.

  "And my memory is already starting to come back. It’s not that big a deal."

  Antonio didn’t look comforted. He answered bluntly, refusing to let it slide.

  "If you keep letting it go, what if it spikes again like last time? What if you end up forgetting yourself completely, forgetting everything, until you don’t even know who you are anymore?"

  His gaze didn’t waver.

  "When it gets to that point, what happens to you? You really can’t remember what it was like?"

  Enid couldn’t answer.

  So she forced a lighter tone.

  "As long as I can keep making new memories, I won’t lose myself. I’m not going to get lost."

  She lifted her shoulders slightly.

  "And that’s why I came out this time, isn’t it? To look for other solutions."

  Antonio opened his mouth as if to argue, but Enid cut in before he could.

  "My problem is mine to solve. Don’t forget, I’m the greatest nature mage in this world."

  Her eyes held a calm confidence.

  "It’s just a nasty curse with an unknown origin. If it takes time, then it takes time. I’ll deal with it."

  Then, softer, almost teasing.

  "I’ve forgotten everything again, and you’re the only one I can think of… but you can remember for me, can’t you? Don’t rush. Rushing won’t get you a sweet bean cake, I taught you that."

  Antonio took a long breath in, then let it out slowly, trying to drain the frustration from his chest.

  "...If you insist," he said at last. "By the way, I like my sweet bean cakes frozen."

  "Stop being ridiculous."

  "Yes, ma’am."

  They fell silent again, and without a word, both lifted their cups and tapped them together lightly before drinking.

  Watching Antonio try to look stern while still acting a little shameless, Enid laughed.

  Antonio didn’t get it. He didn’t think his face was that funny. Unless… her weird sense of humor was kicking in again.

  After all, a greater immortal who could laugh for three days and nights at a cockroach with a bad leg wasn’t exactly easy to understand.

  And there was the other incident too, when she once stuffed herself into an oven to see what she’d taste like if she roasted herself. Her heat resistance was too high, she cranked the fire too hard, melted the whole oven, then laughed for three days straight.

  His teacher was, in a word, unhinged.

  Enid grinned and said, "I used to laugh because you were like a little old pervert. Now you’re an actual old pervert. Your personality finally matches your face. Tell me that isn’t funny."

  Antonio stared at her, then rolled his eyes.

  "...Compared to the things you’ve done and the jokes you’ve made in the past, you’re starting to act more like a normal person."

  He hesitated, as if he hated admitting it.

  "That’s probably… a good thing."

  Enid kept laughing, and as she did, a not-so-distant memory surfaced, the moment she first met Antonio.

  Nearly five hundred years ago, when she had awakened from a long sleep with nothing but blank space in her head.

  The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was Antonio, still young back then.

  That single meeting changed both of their lives, the fate of the Empire, and even the world itself.

  It was also the start of a great adventure.

  And it all began five hundred years ago.