[Realm: Álfheimr]
[Location: Heart Kingdom Outskirts]
[Virelheim Mountain Village]
"What an odd day."
Gretel muttered the words to herself as she walked through the long hall of the wooden longhouse. Her boots made soft taps on the floorboards, the light inside was low—just enough to see.
She wasn't sure why, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Mikoto, even though they'd only just parted.
She didn't usually think twice about people. But he was different.
There was something unsettling about him. He was too beautiful to be a boy, and yet too detached to be easily read. Like staring at a painting someone hadn't finished, but still couldn't look away from. Mikoto. The name sounded small in her mind.
No one could really blame her for still thinking about him.
After all, she was still trying to make sense of him. Or her. Or... something in between. His appearance refused to match his presence—so much so it made her uncomfortable to even try and categorize him.
("He looked so tired... those eyes—furious and empty all at once".) She hadn't said anything then. Didn't feel like it was her place. But she'd seen it. That kind of pain.
She shook her head and reached the final door at the end of the hall. Plain old wood—nothing fancy. She knocked twice, then waited.
"Enter."
The voice inside was rough around the edges. She pushed the door open and stepped in.
The room was simple but spacious. A brown carpet covered most of the floor, worn but clean. Shelves lined the walls, filled with papers, odd tools, and a few old books. At the far end of the room, near the large window, sat a desk littered with documents and, for some reason, a single blood-red apple.
Behind it sat an old man.
He looked the same as always. Old, sure, but not weak. His face was lined with age, though more from strain than time. Long gray hair was tied back, and his tunic sleeves were rolled up, revealing solid, muscular arms marked with scar. A man who'd lived through things and didn't need to say so.
"Gerard."
Gretel greeted him with a faint smile, stepping in a little further and eyeing the room with disapproval.
"You really ought to decorate a little. It always feels like I'm walking into an unfinished cabin."
She tossed the small black box in her hand slightly, catching it again by the corner. Gerard glanced at the box, then leaned back in his chair.
"Not in the mood to take advice from children," he said dryly. "So I assume that means you've finished the job?"
Gretel walked up to the desk and gently set the box down. "Job's done. Just don't get your hopes up—it's not anything special."
Gerard opened it without ceremony. Inside sat a silver necklace, small but striking. Three small red gems were set into its center. The design was unfamiliar—probably custom-made. Unique, but clearly not anything crazy, just extremely luxurious.
"Came from the Emerald City," she added, folding her arms. "That Wizard sent it. Camp guards were talking about it like it was something powerful."
Gerard clicked his tongue. "All that for a necklace."
"I know," she said. "A few hours of travel, armed escort, and all for something you can't even stab someone with."
He didn't respond right away. He just stared down at the necklace, as if trying to decide whether he was disappointed or not.
"You're still taking this rebellion seriously, huh?" Gretel asked after a pause. "I mean no offense, but it all seems... hopeless."
Gerard's brow furrowed. "Someone has to try. That Queen isn't just a tyrant—she's worse than Gwendolyn ever was."
Gretel raised an eyebrow. "She's got the Retorta Guild backing her now. I've heard things about them. They don't leave messes behind."
Something changed in Gerard's expression—just for a moment. A flash of something restrained. "I know." His voice had dropped, almost a whisper. "Too well."
She paused but didn't push. "Not my business," she said, brushing it off. "Anyway, the necklace may not be what you hoped for, but I held up my end." Her voice turned colder. "Now tell me where that Witch is hiding." Something dangerous flashed in her silver eyes, a mere flash that would make even the bravest of men quake.
Gerard leaned back and folded his arms. "Last word was Quadling Country. Capital city."
Gretel tilted her head slightly. "That's where the Good Witch rules, right?"
"Yeah."
She didn't say anything for a moment. Just nodded. "Not far, then." She let the silence sit, then looked back at him with a different tone. More relaxed. "I'm not in a hurry. And as skeptical as I am about your little rebellion, I'll admit—you've got me curious."
Gerard's eyes narrowed slightly, but there was no hostility. Just surprise.
"You offering to help?"
"I am a Nil, after all," she said. "Wouldn't hurt to lend a hand. If I get bored, I leave. Fair?"
He gave a short laugh. "Fair enough. Actually, someone from our group's gone missing. Not the easiest guy to work with, but he's valuable. A thief, mostly. But good at what he does." He gestured toward the desk. Papers were spread out in a vague pattern. "I've been trying to trace where he disappeared. Could be captured. I doubt he's dead."
"Need help tracking him down?"
"Wouldn't turn it down."
Gretel gave a small nod. Her tone softened just a little. "Alright. I'll stick around for a while. Just do me one favor."
"Name it."
"Keep eyes on that Witch. If she so much as breathes wrong, I want to know."
Gerard nodded once, seriously. "You have my word."
She gave him a small wave as she turned to leave. "Let me know if you need anything else. I'll be around."
The door shut quietly behind her, leaving Gerard alone with the papers, the silence and the apple. He looked down at it, the deep red skin catching a bit of the lamplight. He exhaled through his nose and muttered under his breath.
"How unsavory."
--------------------
The longhouse door creaked open with a groan, Mikoto's red eyes shifted toward the sound. Gretel stepped out into the light, her eyes caught his immediately, and her lips curled into a soft smile.
"Sorry if I kept you waiting," she said, her tone light. "Business called. Nothing glamorous, I'm afraid, just the usual mess of duties."
"So you're just someone's errand girl, then?" Mikoto asked flatly.
Gretel gave a short breath of laughter and stepped forward. "Come now, it's not that dull," she said, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Sometimes, it's downright exciting. But most days? Just survival dressed up in chores." She tilted her head toward the path beside the longhouse. "C'mon. You've had a long day. I'll show you where you can rest. It's not a palace, but the roof doesn't leak—so, you know, small victories."
Mikoto followed without a word, his footfalls nearly silent. The two descended a short slope and crossed a narrow bridge, the rocky path crunching beneath their steps. The air was growing colder.
As he walked behind her, his thoughts drifted instantly.
("This girl's my only lead in this place. For now. The village is larger than I expected… a library has to be here somewhere, and if there is, that's my next step. A new world means new laws, new mechanics—new ways to reach across.")
His expression remained unreadable, though his thoughts churned.
("Arcane Ascendance could tear open a path to the next universe. But the cost... that method leaves too many things screwed up. If there's another option, I need to find it.")
He let out a slow exhale.
("Quadling Country… Heart Kingdom… and this girl. Was someone screwing around while making this universe?")
"Hm?" Gretel's voice cut through his silence. She glanced back over her shoulder, catching the subtle crease between his brows. "You've been staring. Admiring me already? I'm flattered."
"I want answers," Mikoto said simply. "You mentioned something earlier. A 'Nil.' I want to know what that is."
"Ah. So that caught your attention." She slowed her pace as they reached a platform overlooking a wide stretch of village rooftops. A handful of lanterns glowing in the distance. "You see, 'Nil' is the word we use for people like me—those born with a singular, strange ability. We're not like Witches or Wizards. We don't study spells, and we don't get to pick our talents. It's one gift. One curse. Depends on how you look at it."
Mikoto tilted his head. "So magic exists here?"
"It does." Gretel nodded, her tone shifting into something more thoughtful. "But not everyone touches it. Most never do. It's dangerous, complicated. Most folks prefer to leave that kind of thing to the gifted or the damned."
("That checks out.") Mikoto's thought. ("Their magic system likely follows unique constraints. I'll dissect it once I observe it firsthand. If their rules are softer than mine… there may be a cleaner method to breach dimensional space.")
Still, something lingered at the back of his mind—something Lyra had warned him about prior to the festival.
("Those Calamities… hm, I wonder...")
"But while we're sharing," Gretel said suddenly, glancing over at him, "I'm still curious about you."
Mikoto blinked, just once. "Why?"
"Because you're clearly not from here." Her voice was earnest now suddenly. "And I don't mean just your name or the way you talk. You've got too much weight in your eyes for someone so small."
"It's not your job to pry."
"I know." She didn't argue. But she didn't back down either. "Still if there's anything I can do to help, I want to."
"Help me, huh?" he echoed. "I doubt you could do much. But if you want to be useful—just keep feeding me information. I'll repay you when the time comes."
"I don't need repayment."
"That doesn't matter. I rather pay my debts."
She smiled again, not out of amusement this time. "You're oddly honorable for someone so prickly. What are you, a knight in training or something?"
"No."
"Still, there's something chivalrous about you. It's very cute."
"Keep talking like that, and you'll lose a limb."
She laughed, light and unaffected. "Wouldn't be the first time someone threatened me. I'm still here."
There was silence between them for a while. Not an awkward one though.
Then, Gretel spoke again.
"I won't lie to you. I have a goal too. And I don't expect anyone to care, but I'm desperate enough to mention it. I won't drag you into it. But... if you do help... I'd be grateful."
Mikoto regarded her for a moment.
"Lucky for you, I'm strong," he said plainly. "You have something you want. Fine. I'll help. I don't need to know the details."
Gretel blinked. Surprise flickered across her face—just for a second—but she masked it quickly, her smile returning softer than before.
"You really are kind. In your own roundabout way."
Mikoto didn't answer. He just looked ahead.