And then—
Dila snapped, her voice breaking through the dim air.
"Found what!?"
She ducked, her arms wrapping around her head as she pressed herself into the straw mattress. Every nerve in her body screamed to stay hidden. Her heart thudded like war drums in her ears.
But instead of an answer, a low laugh followed. At first, dry. Then it grew—rough and full-bodied, echoing through the chamber like a bad joke at the worst time.
"Hahahaha! Oh, relax!" the man chuckled, still hidden behind the veil of the curtain. "You should've seen your face!"
Dila didn't budge.
She kept her face turned away, her bandaged arms covering her tightly. Her body shook, not from pain this time—but from fear and a rising anger she couldn't suppress.
"I don't trust you!" she shouted, her voice awkward and too loud—even for herself. "Even if you say you're my healer… I won't listen! Get out!"
A pause.
Then, the curtain swayed again, and the man's voice followed—calmer this time, but still laced with amusement.
"Allow me to introduce myself properly," he said, and with a theatrical snap of his fingers—snap!—the torches in the room reignited one by one. A warm, amber glow swept across the stone walls like ripples across water, driving away the darkness.
Yet Dila didn't lift her head.
She clenched her fists against her eyes, curling tighter into herself. Her voice was low and raw.
"I said I won't trust you… I won't… even if you help me."
The man laughed again, softer now. "Ahh… this kid," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "Kind of funny, aren't you? Skittish as a rabbit, but talk like a storm."
Slow, deliberate footsteps crossed the stone floor.
Dila felt him getting closer.
But still—she refused to look.
Not yet.
Not until she knew who or what he really was.
"Hmmmm," the man muttered thoughtfully, his voice deep and casual as he scratched at his short, coarse beard.
He stepped a little closer to the bed, the hem of his robe brushing the stone floor with a soft shuffle.
"You know, kid," he began, "your friends… they were really worried about you. They're the ones who dragged you here. Practically begged me to help."
Dila didn't move.
Still crouched, still turned away—arms tight around her knees, her forehead resting on her bandaged arms.
She mumbled, bitterly.
"Friends? I don't… I don't have friends."
The man raised a brow, then leaned against a wooden support beam with a huff, crossing his arms.
"Ohhh, you mean the Knight Hero and the Priestess," he said with a short laugh. "They're not your friends?"
He stroked his beard again, eyes squinting with amusement.
"That's funny. They sure acted like it. You should've seen the way they were barking orders and pacing around like worried parents. They've got high status too, y'know. So I couldn't just turn them away. Had to accept you as my patient."
He chuckled again—deep, genuine, but not mocking. Just a strange mix of gruffness and lightness.
Finally, Dila turned her head.
Slowly.
Cautiously.
Her blue eyes peeked through the strands of silver-white hair hanging over her face, still slightly swollen with sleep and pain.
She blinked once. Then twice. Then whispered:
"Oh no… Sir."
She looked down again, her voice quieter this time.
"If it weren't for them… I think…"
Her hands clutched the edge of the sheet.
"I shouldn't have survived. That pain… that grueling pain…"
Her voice cracked, and for a moment, the firelight seemed dimmer.
She wasn't crying, but her chest rose and fell a little faster. Her expression was unreadable—like someone trying to stay composed after being cracked from the inside out.
The man let out a slow exhale. This time, he didn't laugh.
Instead, his tone softened.
"…Sounds like they care more than you think, kid."
He pushed off the beam and stepped away, letting the torchlight cast long shadows behind him.
"I'll let you rest. But… maybe think about that."
He left the room slowly, leaving behind a quiet warmth and the soft scent of burning herbs.
Dila sat there in silence.
The sound of the wooden door clicking shut echoed in her chest louder than it did in the room.
She stared at the stone floor.
Still.
Thinking.
Just… thinking.
As the door clicked softly behind the old healer, Dila shifted, breathing in the warm herbal air. She slowly moved her legs over the edge of the straw-stuffed bed, bracing herself.
Then she tried to stand.
"Agh—! A-ack, ack… This sucks…!" she hissed, clenching her teeth.
Her legs wobbled beneath her, and she instantly clutched her side, where thick bandages wrapped around her ribs like a cage. She squinted one eye, her face twisting in pain as she leaned against the wall for support.
"Ugh… this hurts… Awwwgh…"
She stood there, catching her breath.
Then she muttered under it.
"…Whatever your name is, Mr. Knight Hero… and you too, Miss Priestess…"
She looked down at her trembling fingers, curled around the wall for balance.
"…Thanks. For saving my life."
Her lips twisted into something like a half-hearted smile. A tiny, wounded thing. It flickered—and vanished.
"But," she added, straightening a little, "I think I'm heading out now."
She took one unsteady step.
"Agh—!"
Her knees nearly gave, and she groaned again.
Then, suddenly, Nari's soft, delicate voice rang out inside her mind—gentle and kind, but with a worried tone.
☆ I would not do that if I were you, Master… ☆
Dila froze, panting softly.
☆ Leaving like that, without saying a word… would be considered disrespectful to those who helped you. Even if they don't ask for thanks, they still deserve to know you're alright… and why you're going. ☆
There was a pause.
Then a quieter, softer tone:
☆ …I think they'd be hurt if you disappeared now. Just like you were… when your mom did. ☆
Dila's eyes widened.
She blinked.
Her throat tightened as she slowly sank back down on the edge of the bed. She didn't cry. But she stared forward, her lips slightly parted. Words caught in her throat like thorns.
"…Nari," she said, her voice small.
"…You talk too much sometimes."
☆ Ehehe… guilty. ☆
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Dila's mouth, even if just for a second.
But she didn't get up again.
Just as Dila thoughts settled back, a faint glow flickered in the corner of her vision.
☆ Ohh! Master! I almost forgot— ☆
Nari's delicate voice chimed in like a whisper of wind, and a small translucent screen bloomed into view.
☆ I forgot to mention how to use your storage system—tehee ☆
Dila blinked, then let out a quiet scoff through her nose, amused. "Seriously?"
☆ Ahhh— ☆ Nari suddenly sounded sheepish. ☆ Haha… yeah. I got caught up in that whole emotionally supportive moment thing and… forgot what I was supposed to do next… eheh… ☆
Her voice cracked awkwardly like a nervous student messing up a class presentation.
Dila giggled, covering her mouth with the back of her bandaged hand. "Alright, alright," she said with a smile, her voice lighter now, "You're really something, you know that?"
☆ Something amazing, I hope! ☆ Nari said proudly, then quickly added in a whisper: ☆ …Also slightly scatterbrained. ☆
The two shared a moment of silence—just a girl and her oddball system AI—resting in the soft glow of healing torches and the scent of old herbs.
It wasn't perfect.
But it was warm.