Date: September 25, 637, Time: 07:56

Location: Still the same.

As always, I opened my eyes in bed. Until now, I would always see visions upon waking, but this time, there was nothing. It was clear today would be different. Just as I was processing this, Malle entered the room, carrying a wicker basket, and immediately began speaking:

"Kids! Come on, come inside quickly."

Following her, Amice and his younger brother Brishen entered. Though I wondered how I knew their names, I couldn’t find an answer. While the children glanced around the room curiously, Malle placed the basket on the table near the entrance, came over to me, and lifted the blanket covering me.

“Now, let’s take a look at your leg. Judging by your recovery speed, you should be able to walk without crutches today.”

Though the crutches had been useful, they were inefficient, and I’d been eagerly awaiting the moment I could discard them. I let Malle examine my leg.

“It seems I’m right. Your leg looks much better now. This is good news,” she said.

Taking my hands, she helped me sit up and asked if I felt any pain. I didn’t.

“Wonderful! So, would you like to help us with preparations in the village today? The Harvest Festival is approaching, and we’re very busy.”

When she mentioned the Harvest Festival, I realized I must have looked confused, as she added:

“We’re short on time right now, so if you’d like, I can explain it to you on the way. What do you say?”

Exploring this settlement from the outside was one of my priorities, so I agreed to Malle’s proposal. Learning more about the events in the area and familiarizing myself with the surroundings was crucial. However, everything was moving quickly. I had just woken up, and within five minutes, I was getting ready to step outside.

Malle dressed me in a long white garment that covered my arms and legs entirely. Except for my face, no part of me was exposed, and the garment’s length caused my hands and feet to get lost inside the fabric. Then she placed a large, circular straw hat on my head, explaining that, as an Alphian, I needed to protect myself from the sun. She mentioned that during my previous time wandering the forest uncovered, my body had been exposed to intense sunlight, resulting in scars and injuries. Knowing this was useful.

I was likely ready. Malle opened the door, told the children to head outside, and then helped me walk slowly toward the door without crutches. Though I still couldn’t walk properly, I was happy to be rid of the crutches. When I reached the door, Malle handed me a pair of footwear—special shoes made entirely of animal hide to protect feet outdoors.

Stepping out onto the veranda—the area where we had sat last night—I felt a slight breeze. Malle placed white gloves on my hands. I thought I was finally ready, but she added one last detail: a piece of white fabric to protect the exposed parts of my neck that weren’t covered by the hat’s shadow. Now I was completely shielded from the sun.

She held my hands to help me down the steps, then asked me to wait with the children while she went back inside to retrieve the basket.

As we waited, Amice leaned toward me and whispered sincerely, “You look so beautiful. Just like a bride...”

I didn’t know the meaning of the word “bride,” but it was hard to miss the sparkle in their eyes. As a gentle breeze began to blow, the fabric of my clothing, the parts brushing against my legs and elbows, and the white strands of hair beneath the hat danced in the wind. For a moment, I thought my hat might fly off, but fortunately, the wind wasn’t strong enough. Malle, having anticipated this, had tied the hat’s strings securely under my chin, preventing it from flying away.

After a while, Malle returned with a large basket and joined us as we set off. Noticing how the children’s gazes lingered on me, Malle teased them playfully:

“Why are you two staring at her as if you’ve just seen a princess?”

Amice immediately responded:

“Because she looks like a princess made of cotton!”

Brishen, as usual, said nothing, merely continuing to gape with his mouth slightly open. Malle, amused by their interest, turned to me and whispered with a smile:

“They seem to like you very much. Why not smile at them?”

Smiling at human children... I didn’t know how to do that, but Malle’s gaze suggested it was important and necessary. I could try to smile, of course, but how? Controlling facial expressions was one of the few things I had yet to master in this body. Sensing my hesitation, Malle whispered a tip:

“Just try lifting the corners of your lips a little.”

Following her instructions, I looked at the children and attempted to raise the corners of my mouth slightly. Their eyes lit up, as if the sunlight itself had been outshined. They made cheerful noises, continuing to comment on how pretty I looked—at least Amice did. Then, they ran off toward the flowers along the roadside, creating an animated and joyful scene.

Malle laughed, the children moved with glee, and everyone seemed happy. Perhaps I should have felt happy too. But deep inside, there was an inexplicable melancholy—a voice whispering that I didn’t belong here, that I shouldn’t feel happiness.

Malle must have noticed the expression on my face but chose not to bring it up in front of the children. Every creature’s offspring was endearing, and disrupting their happiness was a significant taboo. Whatever judgments I held about humans, even I understood and respected that rule.

Since I couldn’t fully partake in their cheerful scene, I decided to redirect my gaze. Surrounding us was a vast plain adorned with flower fields and scattered structures. Most of the area near Malle’s house was filled with colorful, randomly arranged flowers of various shapes and sizes. The weather seemed ideal for these flowers, with only a gentle breeze blowing occasionally. At times, the wind carried fallen petals, spreading their pleasant fragrance through the air.

Further away, where the wooded areas began and the terrain became more uneven, a few structures were visible. These seemed to be the closest to Malle’s house, though there was still a considerable distance between them. It appeared that Malle had chosen to live in an isolated spot within this human settlement.

As Malle adjusted her grip on the large basket resting against her waist, she walked over to me and asked:

“How’s your leg? Any pain or discomfort?”

Shaking my head, I signaled that everything was fine. As she spoke, my eyes drifted to the basket, curious about its contents. I asked her what the soil-filled basket was for. Malle, looking briefly surprised at my question, glanced at the basket and replied:

“This is a type of soil I use in my garden. I’m taking it to a friend in the village. They asked for it recently to make the flowers look as lively and vibrant as possible for the festival.”

From what I understood, this festival was truly significant. Intrigued, I asked her to tell me more about the event. As we continued walking, Malle began to explain:

“The Harvest Festival is celebrated on the first of October. People come from all over the country because Kome is one of the most prominent regions for agriculture and livestock. Though it’s considered a village, it’s as large as a small town. Even people of high rank attend the festival, where there are performances and various festivities. Trade is a major aspect as well. People from all over the world come to buy fruits and vegetables that only grow in Kome.

Kome’s population is around three hundred, but during the festival, the village sees at least a thousand visitors each day. That’s why there’s so much commotion—there’s a lot of work to do, and we only have five days left to prepare.”

Suddenly, the children ran up to us, shouting excitedly. Amice called out to Malle with enthusiasm:

“Malle! Malle! We found it! We found the flower you were looking for!”

Hearing this, Malle immediately set down the basket and hurried toward the direction the children had come from, to the right, where a gently sloping hill covered in flowers rose above the plain. Moving carefully due to my still-healing leg, I followed at a slower pace.

When I reached the hill, I found Malle kneeling and examining a flower up close. She had taken a small trowel from her belt and carefully dug around the flower, lifting it along with its soil. Holding it delicately in her hands, she stared at it with an expression of wonder.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Noticing my presence, Amice turned to me with wide eyes and said:

“It looks just like you. It’s unbelievable.”

Malle’s eyes glistened with emotion. It was clear she was deeply moved. After gently ruffling the children’s hair and giving them affectionate kisses on their foreheads, she turned to me and began explaining:

“This flower is the red-speckled whitish flower. It’s a symbol of Alphia. Normally, it only grows in cold regions like Alphia, but it seems one of its seeds must have made its way here. Somehow, against all odds, it managed to survive, though its leaves suggest it hasn’t fully adapted to the environment.

I once heard of a merchant who brought seeds of this flower from the old lands of Alphia to the festival, but I couldn’t find them at the time and assumed it was just a rumor. Apparently, it was true after all.”

Amice then asked a question that seemed to stir Malle’s emotions further:

“You said it had another name, Malle. What was it?”

Malle remained silent at first. Amice, trying to recall, muttered to himself:

“Viny… Livy… What was it again?”

For the first time, I heard Brishen speak, his voice clear and certain as he declared:

“Lily!”

Amice confirmed his answer enthusiastically, turning to me to explain that the flower’s other name was Lily. Malle still didn’t say anything. Slowly, she stood, picked up the basket she had set aside, and began walking back down the hill. The children and I followed. Along the way, the children decided to start calling me “Lily.”

Malle carefully placed the flower in the basket, handling it with great care. As we resumed our journey, she didn’t speak a single word.

As we walked, I tried to make sense of Malle’s unusual silence. Something about the flower, or perhaps the name "Lily," seemed to deeply affect her. To distract myself, I turned to Amice and began asking questions. She told me that Lily was a common name and widely used. Strangely, I realized I hadn’t even considered the need for a name until now. Yet, what preoccupied my mind more was the possibility that the name carried a meaning that resonated with Malle beyond just being a flower.

As we approached the village’s inner area, the number of houses and people increased. Malle and the children greeted everyone we encountered, a custom they referred to as a “salutation.” The gesture started with a raised hand wave, accompanied by warm smiles. Fortunately, the presence of others seemed to help Malle gradually regain her composure.

However, after each greeting, the people turned their attention to me, their gazes filled with curiosity and hesitation. Being Alphian, it wasn’t hard to guess what they thought of me. Each face I met bore expressions of barely concealed fear and revulsion.

Though these reactions stirred uncomfortable thoughts about my past, I knew trying to decipher the murky images in their minds was pointless. Whatever they thought about me didn’t necessarily reflect the truth.

After a while, I found myself unable to meet their eyes. I lowered my head, seeking refuge in the shadow cast by my wide-brimmed hat. It was an unsettling experience, and I tried to remain silent because I knew I had to restrain myself.

As we walked, my thoughts deepened. What was this feeling I was experiencing? It was uncomfortable and complicated... I felt like an outsider, someone who didn’t belong in this society. This sense of alienation bothered me, but the problem wasn’t mine—it was the people’s prejudice. It was nothing but absurdity.

And yet, I had judged humans harshly before. I had looked down on them. So, perhaps, our thoughts were mutual. In that case, maybe they should consider themselves lucky.

Just then, my thoughts were abruptly interrupted as I bumped into Malle, who had stopped suddenly in front of me.

The impact almost knocked my hat off, but Malle quickly turned and adjusted it back onto my head. As she did, I noticed she was speaking to someone. The person’s gaze was fixed on me, filled with the same disdainful curiosity I’d seen in others, but this time it was more brazen. The woman spoke with a boldness that grated on my nerves:

“Malle, is she really one of the Alphians? You know, those disgusting witches who descend on villages, slaughter people, and use corpses in their rituals?”

Her words rattled me to my core. She didn’t know me, yet she felt entitled to spew such a horrifying prejudice. I could have sworn this woman had never seen an Alphian in her life. A burning sensation flared in my eyes as my anger began to rise.

Just as I felt the hatred boiling inside me, Malle placed a steadying hand on my shoulder, calming me down. She turned to the woman and responded sharply:

“Yes, she’s Alphian, but she’s also a human, and you know that perfectly well. Have you ever questioned the nonsense you’ve heard? You accept whatever the church tells you without question! Use your brain for once!”

Malle’s voice grew louder and harsher with each word, and just as she was about to lose control, Torsten and his men appeared in the distance. They rose from where they had been sitting near a building and began approaching us. Torsten’s mocking voice carried over the crowd:

“You’re the one who needs to use your brain, Malle! Have you forgotten where you are?”

Torsten walked over with a sneer, extending his hand toward me as if to lift my hat. Seeing this, Malle dropped the basket she was carrying and grabbed his wrist with her left hand. Thankfully, the children had already taken the flower from basket to protect, sparing it from any damage.

Malle turned to Torsten with fury in her eyes and snapped:

“What do you think you’re doing? Do you people leave your humanity at home before stepping outside? You know you’ll harm her!”

Torsten smirked, his tone dripping with malice as he retorted:

“Everyone knows Alphians are weak to sunlight! That’s why they’re all burned at the stake! The sun itself is enough to sear their flesh!”

“You will not lay a hand on her!” Malle shouted. “I will never allow it!”

Torsten’s men began to surround us. Meanwhile, the children had wisely taken the flower and moved far away from the confrontation. It was a smart move, but our situation didn’t look as fortunate.

My disgust for Torsten gnawed at me. Given the choice, I would have gladly torn him apart with my bare hands rather than the woman from earlier. He insulted Malle and demeaned me. The burning in my eyes intensified, fueled by my rising anger.

Noticing this, Torsten continued, his tone dripping with cruelty:

“Look at her eyes, Malle! She’s glaring at me like she’s ready to claw me apart! How are you going to prove she’s harmless?”

His words stung like venom. I glanced at Malle helplessly. The worry etched on her face and the tension in her furrowed brow reflected my own struggle to control my anger. Neither of us was succeeding.

Just as the two sides seemed on the verge of clashing, a deep, commanding voice cut through the tension:

“Both of you, quiet down!”

The powerful voice silenced everyone. Turning toward the source, I saw a towering elderly man emerge from the crowd. Resting a massive axe on his shoulder with one hand and holding a wild animal nearly my size in the other, he commanded immediate attention. His imposing stature, standing over two meters tall, coupled with his deep, resonant voice, brought the entire scene to a standstill.

People around me began murmuring his name in hushed tones: “Dustin.”

Torsten turned toward Dustin, his usual bravado faltering as he addressed him.

“Dustin! Stay out of this! This is none of your concern!”

Dustin’s expression darkened, and his voice boomed with anger:

“Shut your mouth, Torsten! You’ll speak to me with respect! Becoming the village chief hasn’t erased your pitiful past, and everyone knows it. You’ve found a few supporters, and now you act like a king? Step aside, or I swear I’ll split your head from your body with this axe!”

Torsten’s bravado crumbled further. He motioned for his men to back away and started retreating, but not before spitting one last threat:

“We’ll settle this later.”

The crowd began dispersing, resuming their activities or retreating into nearby buildings. Dustin approached us, placing his axe on the ground and resting his hand on Malle’s shoulder. His voice remained firm, but there was a distinct gentleness in his tone as he asked:

“Are you all right? That scumbag didn’t harm you, did he?”

Malle responded calmly, her voice steady:

“Yes, Dustin, we’re fine. You arrived just in time. I’m not sure how far I would’ve gone to protect Lily.”

“It’s a good thing nothing happened,” Dustin replied, shaking his head. “Ever since I retired, he’s been acting like this, but lately, he’s gotten worse. There must be a reason for his behavior, but what?”

“It doesn’t matter, Dustin,” Malle said dismissively. “Thank you for your help. No matter how thin the thread of connection between you two may be, one day it will break.”

“How much longer will this continue, Malle? You’d think people get wiser as they age, but that idiot only grows more foolish.”

“You’re not wrong,” Malle replied with a faint smile.

At that moment, Dustin noticed the basket on the ground. Removing his hand from Malle’s shoulder, he bent down to pick it up. Inspecting the contents and the small amount of spilled soil, he asked:

“This is the flower soil I asked for, isn’t it?”

Malle nodded confidently. “Yes, I brought it from my garden for you,” she said.

Dustin chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. “You’re talking like I didn’t specifically ask you for it,” he teased.

Malle returned his laugh with a lighthearted one of her own. Dustin gave her a slight nod of gratitude, hoisted the wild animal onto his shoulder, grabbed the basket with his free hand, and walked away.

Once he was out of sight, Malle turned to me and said it was time to head back home.

Dustin was a peculiar man. He had helped us without expecting anything in return. It was clear he shared some sort of bond with Malle, though its nature was unclear. His physical strength was incredible—beyond what an ordinary human could possess. It didn’t seem like a mere coincidence; I suspected he had a connection to the Archive. He also clearly had a history with Torsten, though I couldn’t yet unravel the details.

As we prepared to leave, Malle suddenly seemed to remember something. She turned to me with a hint of panic and called out, “The flower!”

I quickly reassured her. “The children took the flower away just before the argument started,” I said.

Relieved, Malle grabbed my hand gently and suggested we return home, again. Her kindness and composure calmed me, but one thought lingered in my mind: she had called me “Lily.”