Lina jolted upright with a sharp gasp, breath tearing out of her chest as if she had surfaced from deep water.
The room lurched.
Her heart hammered so hard she could feel it in her teeth. For a split second, she didn't know where she was—only that the silence felt wrong, too complete, like something had just stopped listening.
"—Lina!"
A chair scraped back hard.
Gabriella nearly knocked over the table as she stumbled to her feet, eyes wide, hands half-raised as if Lina had just come back from the dead.
"Gods—don't do that," Gabriella snapped, then exhaled shakily. "You scared the life out of me."
Lina blinked. Once. Twice.
The world resolved into lamplight and stone walls. A familiar room. A familiar table. Gabriella standing there in her sleep-wrinkled clothes, hair loose and uneven, clearly not prepared for emergencies—supernatural or otherwise.
"I—" Lina started, then stopped.
Her mouth was dry. Her head throbbed.
Gabriella squinted at her. "You good?" she asked, already skeptical. "Because you were out cold when the innkeeper brought you in. I thought you cracked your head open."
"I didn't—" Lina pressed her palms into the mattress. They were trembling. "I didn't pass out."
Gabriella snorted softly. "You absolutely did."
"I wasn't drunk," Lina said.
"That's what drunk people say."
Lina swallowed. Her gaze drifted to the far wall. To the window. To the dark street beyond it.
The memory pressed in all at once—the melody, thin and winding. The way the noise of the world had fallen away. The shape across the street, still as a cutout against the dark.
Her fingers curled into the sheets.
"I went to turn in the report," Lina said quietly.
Gabriella paused.
"…Right," she said carefully. "We talked about this earlier."
Gabriella paused.
"…Right," she said carefully. "We talked about this earlier."
Lina frowned. The room still felt wrong—too sharp at the edges, like she'd woken up too fast from something deeper than sleep.
"…Gabriella," she asked slowly, "what time is it?"
Gabriella blinked. "Uh." She glanced toward the small wall clock near the door. "Not late. Why?"
"How long," Lina pressed, "was I out?"
Gabriella stared at the clock a second longer, then looked back at her, brow creasing.
"Outside? Ten minutes," she said. "Passed out? Twenty. Maybe a little more. You bolted out like your boots were on fire, and then—what—minutes later the innkeeper brought you in cursing my name."
She snorted.
"I didn't know it was possible to be knocked out drunk that fast."
Lina's stomach dropped.
"That's not—" She stopped, fingers tightening in the sheets. "I wasn't gone that long?"
Lina stared past her.
Half an hour.
The melody had felt longer. The silence had felt endless.
"I heard music."
Gabriella sighed and rubbed her face. "Lina."
"It was a music box," Lina said, tripping over the words. "The one you mentioned—the Hunter's. Gabriella, I saw him. He's not a story."
That got Gabriella's attention. Just a little.
She lowered her hands. "Okay," she said slowly. "You sure this isn't a dream?"
Lina shook her head. Too fast.
"No. I remember the cold. I remember not being able to move." Her voice dropped. "I remember him."
Gabriella laughed once—short, uneasy. "Him who?"
Lina hesitated.
Her chest tightened, the way it had the night before, like the air had suddenly grown heavier.
"…The Hunter."
The word sat between them, ugly and out of place.
Gabriella's smile faded.
She didn't laugh again.
"Lina," she said, quieter now, "you can't just say things like that and expect me not to think you hit your head."
"I saw him," Lina said. "I didn't see his face—but I knew. And the street went silent. The world bent with every step."
Gabriella stared at her for a long moment.
Then she stepped forward and reached out, pressing the back of her hand to Lina's forehead.
"You're not warm," she muttered. "No fever."
Lina caught her wrist.
"I'm not sick," she said. "And I wasn't drunk. And I didn't faint."
Gabriella searched her face—really searched this time.
"…You're serious," she said.
Lina nodded.
The room felt smaller suddenly.
Gabriella slowly pulled her hand back.
"Alright," she said at last. "Then start from the beginning."
Lina drew a shaky breath.
And began.
Morning came thin and gray.
They walked side by side toward the guild, boots tapping stone in an uneven rhythm. Lina kept a half-step behind, talking as if the night hadn't ended at all.
"And I know it doesn't make sense," she said, hands moving even as she walked, fingers sketching shapes in the air. "But that's the point. It didn't feel like time was moving right. Like I stepped sideways into something and only fell back when it let me."
"Mm," Gabriella said.
She didn't look over. Just nodded once, eyes forward, shoulders slightly hunched beneath her cloak. She looked like someone who hadn't slept enough and didn't expect to anytime soon.
"And the street—Gab, I walk that route every day. You know that. I could do it blind. But last night it was different. Longer. Deeper. Like the distance stretched."
"Uh-huh."
Lina frowned. "You don't believe me."
"I believe you think you saw something," Gabriella said. Her voice wasn't sharp. That almost made it worse. "I just don't think it was what you think it was."
"But the music—"
"—could've been a toy," Gabriella cut in gently. "Or a merchant's trinket. Or something you half-heard and filled in the rest."
"It stopped," Lina insisted. "Right when I noticed him."
Gabriella nodded again. Same motion. Same cadence.
"Sure."
Lina slowed a fraction, forcing Gabriella to either stop or pull ahead. She didn't. Just adjusted her pace and kept walking.
"I'm not making this up," Lina said, quieter now. "I know when I'm scared. This wasn't panic. It was… pressure. Like something was pressing on the world itself."
"Lina," Gabriella said, tired now—really tired. "You passed out."
"I didn't"
"You collapsed."
"Because I couldn't move."
Gabriella exhaled through her nose. "Because you were exhausted. And rattled. And possibly concussed."
They reached the main avenue. The guild hall rose ahead of them, all stone and banners and familiar solidity. People were already coming and going—clerks, hunters, couriers. Normal voices. Normal noise.
Normality, pressing in hard.
Lina gestured toward it. "Does that look real to you?" she asked. "All of this?"
Gabriella finally glanced at her. One eyebrow lifted.
"…Yes?"
Lina faltered. Then shook her head, frustrated.
"That's not what I mean. I mean—last night, none of this mattered. None of it made sound. Like it was all just scenery."
Gabriella slowed this time. Just a little.
"Look," she said, choosing her words carefully. "Even if—if—you saw something strange, running it through the worst story we know isn't going to help you. You're going to work yourself into knots."
"He's not just a story," Lina said stubbornly. "You told me that yourself."
"I told you," Gabriella replied, "that there was a rumour."
They stopped at the steps.
The guild doors stood open, light spilling out warm and familiar. Voices echoed inside. Life continuing, indifferent.
Gabriella turned to her at last. Her expression softened—not with belief, but with concern worn thin by repetition.
"Just… let it rest for now," she said. "Get through the morning. Relax. Eat something. If it still feels wrong later, we'll talk again."
Lina searched her face, hoping—still—for something more.
Gabriella offered a final nod. The same one as before.
Tired. Patient. Done.
"…Alright," Lina said.
But as they stepped inside, Lina's gaze drifted back once more—to the street, to the place where sound had vanished.
The city was loud again.
And that scared her more than the silence ever had.
Gabriella peeled off first.
"I'm going to check the board," she said, already angling toward the steps. "Early bird gets the decent commissions before the veterans strip it bare."
Lina barely heard her.
Her stomach chose that moment to betray her with a loud, hollow growl—sharp enough that Gabriella paused halfway up the steps.
"…You eat anything last night?" Gabriella asked without turning.
Lina pressed a hand to her middle. "No. I don't think so."
Gabriella huffed. "Shocking."
She waved one hand over her shoulder. "Go eat. I'll grab us something reasonable if there's anything worth taking."
Lina nodded, grateful for the excuse.
The tavern across the street sat low and wide, its windows already fogged from cooking steam. The sign creaked gently as she pushed the door open, warmth rolling over her in a wave thick with bread, grease, and something sweet simmering down to caramel.
Her stomach growled again. Louder this time.
"Yeah," Lina muttered to herself. "I hear you."
The tavern was half-full—morning regulars and guild stragglers clustered at tables, boots kicked out, voices low and unhurried. Someone laughed near the bar. Cutlery clinked. A cook barked an order from the back.
Lina never saw the door open.
It swung inward fast and clipped her shoulder hard enough to knock her a step sideways.
"Ah—!"
"—Oh. Gods, I'm so sorry."
The apologies came in quickly.
Lina caught herself on the table and looked up.
Agnes stood in the doorway, one hand still gripping the handle, eyes wide despite the heavy exhaustion hanging off her like a cloak. Her hair was loose and uneven, her posture slumped, but there was no mistaking her.
Lina froze.
Agnes blinked. "I wasn't watching where I was going. Are you alright?"
"I—yes—no—sorry—I wasn't watching," Lina blurted, words tripping over each other as she straightened too fast. "I mean—you didn't do anything wrong—I should've moved—I'm fine, really—"
Agnes stared at her for a second, then let out a small, tired huff of a laugh.
"…Okay," she said gently. "Easy girl, I won't bite."
Lina flushed hard.
"S-sorry," she said again, then caught herself and tried to stand still. Failed. "I didn't expect— I mean— I know you come here sometimes, I just—"
Agnes tilted her head. "Do I know you?"
Lina swallowed.
"Lina," she said quickly. "A-a ranger. A newbie. Northern routes, mostly. I—I've read your field reports. The older ones. About how you and your party took out a Goblin nest alone and when—" She winced. "Sorry. That probably sounded weird."
Agnes looked genuinely surprised.
"…You read those?"
"Yes," Lina said immediately. "They're really good. You're really good, I—I mean your party. Ah no Mazurka is—"
That earned her a quiet laugh.
"Well," Agnes said, rubbing at the back of her neck, "that might be the nicest thing anyone's said to me before breakfast."
She stepped fully inside, letting the door close behind her, then gestured vaguely at Lina.
"And for the record, that was my fault. I'm running on maybe two hours of sleep and stubbornness."
"Oh—no—I mean—I didn't mean—" Lina shook her head hard. "I should've been paying attention."
Agnes smiled faintly. Tired, but warm.
"If every adventurer who wasn't paying attention apologized this hard," she said, "the guild would be a much louder place."
That made Lina laugh despite herself—short and breathless.
An awkward silence lingered between the two for what felt like a minute.
Agnes glanced toward the counter, then back at her. "So, you eating?"
"Yes—well, waiting—my stomach's been loud all morning," Lina said, then immediately regretted saying that much.
Agnes nodded like that explained everything. "Good. Eat. It keeps cuties like you all energized."
She paused, then added, almost as an afterthought, "And… it was nice meeting you, Lina."
Lina stood there as Agnes shuffled toward the counter, brain briefly empty.
"…It was nice meeting you too," she managed, a second too late.
As Agnes walked away, Lina slowly sat back down, heart still thudding—though this time, not from fear.
Starstruck.
Exhausted.
And suddenly very aware that today was already stranger than it had any right to be.
Lina was still staring after Agnes when a voice appeared right next to her ear.
"So are you going to move or what?"
Lina yelped.
Her chair screeched as she lurched sideways, very nearly knocking it over in the process.
"Gab—!" She clutched at her chest. "By the gods, warn me!"
Gabriella stood there with her arms crossed, expression flat, eyes heavy-lidded in the way of someone who had already used up her patience for the day.
"You were blocking the aisle," she said. Deadpan. Utterly unbothered. "I figured shock therapy would be faster."
Lina blinked at her, still recovering. "I was sitting."
"You were sitting like a statue," Gabriella replied. "A very inconvenient one."
Lina opened her mouth. Closed it. Then, helplessly, a grin split her face.
"I just met Agnes."
"I noticed," Gabriella said. "I saw her walk out. And when I came in you stopped blinking."
"I bumped into her. Literally. She apologized. She knew my name—well, after I told her—but still—"
Gabriella slid into the chair opposite her without asking, resting her elbows on the table.
"…Lina," she said, "she is a person."
"I know that," Lina said quickly. "I do. I just—she's Agnes. Ranger Agnes. The one who mapped the western slips. The one who—"
"And you're Lina," Gabriella cut in. "Ranger. Newbie of the Northern routes. Currently vibrating."
Lina realized her knee was bouncing and forced it still.
"She said my name," Lina repeated, softer now, like it was something fragile.
Gabriella sighed and leaned back. "I checked the board. Nothing good. A few pest sweeps, one escort nobody wants, and a wet-cave crawl that smells like a bad idea."
"Oh," Lina said distantly. "Okay."
Gabriella stared at her.
"…You didn't hear a word I just said, did you?"
Lina blinked. "You said something about caves?"
Gabriella pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Eat your breakfast," she said. "Then we're going to pretend you didn't almost faint from proximity to a senior ranger."
Lina nodded obediently.
But as the serving girl arrived with her plate, Gabriella couldn't help adding, just a little drier,
"And for the record—next time you meet one of your heroes, try not to look like you've just seen a ghost."
Lina glanced toward the counter where she thought Agnes sat, already slumped over her mug.
"…I kind of did," she muttered.
Gabriella didn't ask what she meant.
She just took a sip of her drink and let the morning roll on.