The sun entered the room before any word was spoken.
The light passed through the thin curtain and slowly settled on the wooden floor, climbing up the legs of the bed as if testing whether it was allowed to touch us. I truly woke up this time, without confusion, without scattered fragments. Just full awareness and the weight of what existed around me.
No one moved.
The silence was different from the night before. There was no hidden tension, no expectation. It was an attentive silence, as if everyone were waiting for someone to make the first wrong move.
Elara was the first to get up. She said nothing. She simply put on her shirt, calmly tied her hair back, and walked to the window, opening it a little more. The morning air entered, cold and clean, bringing with it the sounds of the city waking up.
Liriel sat on the edge of the bed shortly after, rubbing her eyes.
"What time is it?"
"Earlier than it seems," I replied.
Vespera was still lying down, staring at the ceiling. When she finally sat up, she did so carefully, like someone who didn't want to break something invisible.
We went down for breakfast without hurry. None of us seemed truly hungry, but sitting together felt necessary. The smell of fresh bread mixed with the hot tea created a strange normality, almost offensive.
The innkeeper smiled at us as usual. Nothing had changed for her.
We sat at the table in the back.
No one knew exactly where to begin.
"I didn't sleep much," Elara said.
"Neither did I," Liriel replied.
Vespera stirred her cup, watching the liquid swirl slowly. "I slept. But I woke up tired."
I swallowed before speaking. "The night didn't end when we fell asleep."
The three of them looked at me.
"I know no one here is naïve," I continued. "But I also know that pretending this was just a consequence of the drink is too easy."
Elara crossed her arms. "And dangerous."
"Yes."
Liriel took a deep breath. "You're trying to decide what this means."
"I'm trying to understand if this changes who we are."
Vespera rested her elbows on the table. "It changes things. The question is whether it destroys or strengthens."
We left the inn after breakfast. The city was more alive than ever. People were talking about the recent victory, about the Sixth General, about us. Some recognized us. Others only whispered.
Fame was beginning to reach us.
We walked without a defined destination for a while. The group still functioned. We walked together, attentive to our surroundings, in almost automatic formation. That gave me some relief.
Nothing had broken.
"Did you notice?" Liriel asked. "People are looking differently."
"It's the price," I replied.
"Or the reward," Elara said.
We stopped near the central square. Children were playing. Merchants were shouting offers. Everything felt distant and close at the same time.
"Takumi," Vespera said, using my name with a different weight. "You don't have to solve everything today."
"I know. But I also can't push this aside."
Elara nodded. "Just don't turn this into a solitary decision."
That sentence stayed with me.
We returned to the guild at the end of the morning. The building seemed smaller than before. Or maybe it was us who no longer fit there the same way. Some adventurers greeted us. Others avoided eye contact.
We went up to the mission board.
Nothing truly interested us.
"Not today," I said. "Not today."
No one disagreed.
We spent the rest of the day together, but not glued to one another. Each of us needed space to reorganize our thoughts. Even so, no one truly drifted away. It was as if there were an invisible thread keeping everything connected.
At night, we sat together in the room again.
"I'm afraid," Elara said suddenly.
"Of what?" I asked.
"That this turns into something we can't sustain."
Liriel spoke right after. "I'm afraid we'll hurt ourselves trying to pretend we don't feel anything."
Vespera was the last. "I'm afraid that if we don't face this now, the next battle will catch us divided."
The silence that followed was not uncomfortable.
"I don't promise quick answers," I said. "But I promise honesty."
Elara smiled slightly. "That's enough for now."
We slept in separate rooms that night. Not out of rejection, but out of necessity. Each of us needed space to feel without interference.
Before turning off the light, I stood looking out the window.
The sun was already gone. But I knew it would return.
And when it did, nothing would be exactly as it was before.