Volume 3 Chapter 8 – The Strange Cabin and the Girl

Deep within her, a rational and persuasive voice told her that those images that had appeared out of nowhere were utterly illogical—fabricated and untrustworthy.

That was what she told her.

But...

Yimi couldn’t understand it. The emotional surge just now had felt so real—so real that it resonated deeply within her, as if those memories had been her own.

She felt confused. Should she believe her memories and reason, or trust her intuition and emotion?

“...Thank you.” Recalling how she had instinctively burrowed into Dylin’s arms earlier, Yimi hesitated for a moment.

“Mm?” Hearing Yimi thank him, Dylin almost thought he’d misheard.

Seeing his puzzled expression, Yimi offered no further explanation.

“That woman and her child—have they left?”

“Yeah. There’s no future left in that town. Anyone who still has the means to leave probably will.” If not for their family and loved ones being in the city—and being homeless without it—who would willingly remain in Kanz?

Just like its name: the Crucible City, a cauldron that boiled its people dry of blood.

“I gave her some universal currency, enough to get by until she finds a place to settle. Also gave her some alchemical potions for self-defense.” Dylin might not have many other potions, but Flash Potions? He had those in endless supply.

Daily log-ins, quest rewards, draw-based loot—he was practically a walking flashbang.

That was the limit of what Dylin could do for someone so unfortunate. Personal strength was ultimately limited.

And he had paid a price for it—he got kicked out of the inn.

When he returned, the innkeeper hurriedly refunded the money Dylin had paid—plus a few extra copper coins, as if terrified the two would refuse to leave.

Dylin didn’t protest. He simply accepted the coins, said, “Sorry for the trouble,” and left with Yimi.

He understood how the innkeeper felt. They were all ordinary people with families—parents to care for, children to raise. No one wanted trouble that could drag their loved ones into danger.

Even though Dylin had never lifted a finger during the incident, the enforcers could easily spin the story into something damning. They might target the inn for “harboring criminals.”

In that situation, who dared keep them?

“Why did the innkeeper make us leave?” Walking the streets, Yimi asked with a blank expression. “Was it something I did wrong?”

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Dylin shook his head. “But if right and wrong were so pure in this world, things wouldn’t be this complicated. Everyone has their own concerns.”

“It’s not just black and white.”

“I don’t understand.” Yimi replied without hesitation. “It’s too complicated.”

“That’s right. Humans are complicated creatures.”

“Why did you come to the human Empire?”

“You already answered that yourself.” Dylin glanced at her.

“It’s getting late. If we don’t find a place that’ll take us in, we’ll likely be sleeping on the street tonight.” He looked at the fading crimson on the horizon.

That was already an optimistic estimate. Given what had happened earlier, word would spread fast—and the entire city would blacklist them.

Sure enough, things went worse than he expected.

As he’d guessed, they checked every inn in Kanz before dark. The moment the owners saw a young, baby-faced black-haired youth accompanied by a platinum blonde loli, they treated them like the plague.

One even posted a drawing of Dylin at the door, declaring the establishment had no ties to this person.

Faced with such theatrics, Dylin was left speechless and wandered aimlessly.

“Let’s leave the city.”

“But the gates—will the guards let us out this late?”

“Of course. Otherwise, why do you think no enforcers have come for us yet?” Dylin replied.

“What’s the connection?”

“Think about it. Even if we didn’t use force, we’ve clearly offended the city guards. Logically, they’d want revenge. Why haven’t they returned with reinforcements?”

Yimi shook her head. She hadn’t considered that.

“Because even the guards know we’re hot potatoes. If they deal with us directly, it could spark a diplomatic incident. Better to stay safe—let the inns blacklist us and force us out of the city, preventing further trouble.”

“Cowards,” Yimi muttered with a blank face.

“Hmm?” Dylin was surprised. “When did you start using that term?”

“They’re vicious on their own, but submissive to outsiders. Not a sliver of their cruelty is shared beyond their borders.” Yimi looked calmly at him. “Just like you.”

“Do you hate me?”

“I do.”

“You betrayed your kin, your soul, your loyalty to the Sacred Tree...”

“You caused the deaths of my parents and our whole village—blood flowed like a river...”

“You’re a sinner. I hate you.” Yimi repeated the accusation, her tone calm.

But there was one thing she didn’t say.

She knew she hated Teresa—should hate Teresa—but why...

Why did she always hesitate at the crucial moment?

Was it the faint trace of kinship?

Yimi didn’t know.

“Then, keep on hating me.”

“?” Yimi looked up at him, confused by his response.

“I have a question, Yimi. After you’ve taken your revenge—what then?”

“...I don’t know.” For the first time, Yimi looked lost, shaking her head.

She had only ever thought about revenge. She’d never considered what came after—or where she’d go.

“I see.” Dylin nodded as if confirming a suspicion. “Then I’ll wait—wait for your revenge.”

“But let’s be clear. I won’t hold back if someone tries to kill me.”

Yimi didn’t respond.

At the city gates, just as Dylin predicted, the guards let them pass without issue.

Tourists, huh? Barely stayed for a cup of tea before stirring trouble—and from Coleman Academy, no less.

Too risky to deal with. Better to let them go.

“I’m hungry,” Yimi said as they walked along the outskirts.

“Just telling me won’t fill your belly,” Dylin replied without turning. “Expecting me to feed you?”

Yimi stayed quiet.

“That lunch was the last of our rations—just some hardtack left.” Dylin didn’t want to live like a savage unless absolutely necessary.

“If you don’t mind, want to try some?” He handed her a chunk of dry biscuit.

“It tastes awful,” Yimi muttered, gnawing on it like a hamster.

“That’s how it should taste. Until it’s necessary, stick to photosynthesis,” Dylin joked. He hadn’t fed her in nearly half a day, but he wasn’t worried she’d starve.

That was the racial advantage of Gold Elves.

Soon, night nearly fell.

“You’re heading that way?” Yimi suddenly stopped.

“What? Something wrong?” Dylin asked.

“There’s a bad smell that way... I don’t want to go.”

“But there’s nowhere else nearby we can stay.” Dylin looked ahead at the lone, flickering lamp in the distance.

“If we don’t go, we’re sleeping under the stars—and that might mess up your assassination plan. I can’t sleep well without a bed.”

“So? Silence means agreement?”

Yimi stayed silent.

Dylin led her toward the wooden cabin.

The cabin was small—just a room and a main hall, with no fence, standing alone in the outskirts.

A dim oil lamp hung over the door.

“Sorry to bother—anyone home?” Dylin knocked. “We’re travelers seeking shelter for the night.”

No answer.

Just as Dylin turned to leave, the door creaked open.

Dylin turned back—and froze.

Silver hair fluttered in the wind. The girl in the doorway looked as delicate as a fragile porcelain doll.

To find such beauty in a cabin in the middle of nowhere caught Dylin off guard.

Also—

That silver hair—it was somewhat like Astrid’s.

“You are?” The silver-haired girl looked at them emotionlessly.

“Oh—sorry, we’re travelers from Kanz. Due to some issues, we couldn’t find lodging in the city. We were wondering if we might stay here for one night?” Dylin’s voice faltered toward the end.

She seemed to live alone.

It was late—and any sane girl would refuse such a request from a strange man.

Dylin didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. “Sorry for bothering you—we’ll leave...”

“You may enter.”

“Eh?” Dylin was stunned, thinking he’d misheard—until Yimi walked right in, removing her shoes like it was second nature.

“Aren’t you coming in?” The silver-haired girl tilted her head.

“Ah—sorry for intruding.” Dylin replied, stepping inside. Watching the calm and collected Yimi, he wondered when she had become so bold—and this sociable.

Was this an Elven cultural thing?

“Wear these.” The girl placed a pair of pink slippers at his feet.

“Oh, thank you.” Dylin quickly accepted.

There were other pairs of slippers. Were there other residents?

No wonder she let them in.

“Miss, may I ask your name?”

“I don’t have one.”

“You don’t... have a name?” That surprised Dylin.

“Mm.” Dressed in a white gown, she was as pristine as crystal.

“Forgive me for asking—have you lost your memory?”

“Lost memory?” The girl stared at him for a moment. “You could say that.”

“But unlike most people, I know exactly which part of my memory is missing.”

“It’s your name, then?” Dylin asked.

“Not just that. But names don’t matter to me. I don’t need to remember who I am. I don’t need to seek out the lost memories.”

Her voice was flat, her words comprehensible yet impossible to understand.

“One day, those memories will return. I’ll remember who I am. But by then... I might not be myself anymore.” She stared deeply into Dylin.

“...I see.” He understood none of what she said. Coupled with her monotone voice, she felt... eerie.

To put it bluntly—she was a riddle speaker.

Dylin surveyed the cabin. A boiler sat in the main hall, burned wood underneath. Shelves and cabinets were lined with alchemical potions and equipment.

It was a humble home—basic, but clean.

She seemed to be into alchemy—or perhaps her family was.

“Miss, does your family practice alchemy?”

“I have no family.”

“Then... who do you live here with?”

“I live alone.”

“Then... the slippers?”

“They’re for future guests.”

“I see...” But seriously, who just happens to visit a cabin in the middle of nowhere? Strange explanation.

This girl didn’t seem malicious—but she was certainly odd.

The silver-haired girl shook her head, offering no more explanation.

“What were you thinking? Just barging in like that? She invites you in, and you walk right in?” Dylin poked Yimi’s head once they were out of earshot.

“...”

Yimi said nothing, seemingly deep in thought. “I don’t know.”

“But... I felt safe around that sister.”

“So I just walked in without thinking.” She looked like she couldn’t quite explain it herself.

“You two—have you eaten?”

“If not, there’s still some food in the pot. It should suit your tastes.” The girl’s quiet voice drifted over.

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