"Grandma, what's wrong?"
Talulah suddenly noticed the old woman had stopped talking and was simply staring at her. A faint look of worry flickered across her face as she widened her eyes, scrutinizing Talulah for any sign of trouble.
"It's nothing. I'm just fretting over whether anyone would actually want to marry you in the future."
"I... I'm not even at the age to get married yet!" Talulah's face instantly flushed a deep crimson. She hadn't expected the old lady to drop such a bombshell out of the blue.
"Anka from the neighboring village was married by fifteen. You're well past the age."
"That's way too early! Besides, even if someone's getting married, shouldn't it be Jeanne first? Why are you worrying about me so much?!" Talulah stammered, her shyness intensifying.
She glanced over at Jeanne, who was sipping her soup. With those big eyes and that smirk, Jeanne's expression screamed: I am absolutely here for this drama, please continue. Desperate, Talulah tried to change the subject.
"There's no shortage of families looking at her," Grandma countered. "If she hadn't said she wasn't considering such things for now, people would have been knocking down our door ages ago."
"Umu... so I even lost in that category, huh?" Talulah lowered her head and dejectedly slurped her soup.
While she truly had no desire to marry, the thought that she would eventually have to face the day Jeanne got married and left left a bitter taste in her mouth. As for herself? She didn't dwell on it. She was Infected; who would want to take an Infected as a wife? Her life had been decided the moment she made her choice.
"Grandma, I've brought over all the mended clothes!"
A quiet voice drifted in from outside as a grey-haired Elafia stepped through the door. A gentle smile rested on her face—a smile so pure it seemed capable of cleansing the soul.
"Oh, Alina, you're here. Didn't I tell you I'd go pick those up in a bit?" Jeanne stood up to take the clothes from her, then ladled out a bowl of hot soup and set it down for her.
This was the Alina Grandma had mentioned. She appeared exceptionally quiet and delicate. A member of the village whose family had passed away, she had often received help from the two elderly residents in the past. After Jeanne arrived, the two had quickly become close. Due to her frail constitution, Alina mostly helped with sewing, mending, and washing.
"I had nothing else to do anyway, so I brought them over myself."
"Alina, you're finally here! Grandma and Jeanne were just scolding me mercilessly! You have to back me up!" Talulah's spirits lifted the moment she saw Alina, and she immediately began recounting her "sufferings."
"You have a lot of nerve," Grandma interjected. "If only you were as steady as Alina! She loves reading and is skilled at handiwork. Out of the three of you, you're the only one who can't sew a sleeve."
"Old Mother, Talulah works hard too. She's never lazy when there's a job to do... Oh, is this meat broth?"
"Exactly! I do plenty of work!" Talulah puffed out her chest proudly, feeling as though she had finally found her pillar of support.
"You... you're just going to spoil her. Who knows what'll happen to her later," Grandma shook her head with a smile. She picked up the clothes and headed toward her room. "Fine, I'll leave you kids to chat. I'm going to rest."
If she hadn't been waiting for Talulah to return, she would have gone to bed long ago. Sometimes she couldn't help but lament how old she'd become; she wasn't like these children anymore. Twenty years ago, she didn't even know the meaning of the word "tired." But now, if she didn't rest well for one day, she couldn't do a thing the next. If it weren't for Jeanne and the others, she and her old man wouldn't even survive the winter.
"Ah, sometimes you just have to accept that you're old..." Muttering to herself, the old woman drifted into a deep sleep.
Outside, the three continued their conversation. Talulah was still trying to learn how to mend clothes from Alina, looking frustrated by her own lack of progress.
Nearby, Jeanne was weaving a piece of red cloth. Talulah didn't understand why Jeanne insisted on weaving it herself; in over a year, she had never seen Jeanne wear anything red. Jeanne worked slowly, perhaps only completing a tiny bit each day.
However, they had grown used to this dynamic. Talulah actually liked the cloth; it gave off a strange sense of warmth. Yet, occasionally, she thought she heard a faint sound of weeping or wailing coming from it. When she turned to look, there was nothing. Probably just a hallucination, she told herself. Just the wind howling outside.
"By the way, Alina, how are your preparations coming along?" Jeanne asked, setting her work aside. "They say the blizzard in a few days will be worse than usual. You have to be careful."
Alina's situation wasn't like theirs. Talulah, a Draco with dragon blood, was a natural at heavy labor.
"Ah, it should be enough," Alina replied after a moment of thought. "I haven't used much lately. What's left should last me through the winter."
"I'll come by tomorrow to see if anything is missing," Jeanne said, still uneasy. She had helped Alina stockpile supplies, but this winter was proving to be exceptionally cruel.
Suddenly, Jeanne's expression shifted, and she dropped her work entirely. Her Revelation had spoken: tomorrow, a squad of Infected Patrol would arrive for another "inspection"—or rather, another looting session.
Even the good-natured Jeanne couldn't hide her displeasure. This would be the fifth time this winter. They were shearing the sheep until it was bald.
"What is it? Are those 'black bugs' coming back?" Seeing Jeanne's face, Talulah and Alina immediately guessed the reason.
This wasn't the first time Jeanne had sensed the arrival of the Patrol. She always claimed it was just a "hunch." While it sounded absurd, Talulah believed her, and every subsequent accurate prediction had turned that belief into absolute trust.
At Jeanne's nod, they quickly began hiding the family's valuables. Miraculously, any hiding spot Jeanne pointed out was never discovered. This near-prophetic ability—the power of Revelation—guided her actions. To an outsider, such a sharp intuition would be unbelievable.
Still, they left a small portion of supplies in the cellar. If the cellar were completely empty, the Patrol would get suspicious. It was better to leave a little bait to blind them.
However, Jeanne's Revelation continued to buzz with a sense of impending crisis. Was something else going to happen? Were the people coming tomorrow really just the usual Patrol?