I’ve never really been the best at drawing.

Yeah, I can see that.

……But for this to work, I must draw it to the best of my ability. I have a single sheet of paper and a pencil that Elaine gave me, and I plan to sketch a specific diagram. Why? Allow me to explain everything first.

It’s been a few more days, yet nothing has truly changed. Nightclaw has been preoccupied with hunting in the forest, giving me the opportunity to grow at a much faster pace.

Level: 32

* Strength: 58

* Speed: 53

* Stamina: 67

* Endurance: 65

* Durability: 56

* Mana: 70

* Soul Rank: Tarnished

* Soul Color: Purple

I didn’t level up as much as I hoped, and the reason for that is simple: rain. For the past week, there’s been at least one heavy downpour each day. Not light showers, but full-on rainstorms. Because of this, Nightclaw hasn’t been able to hunt as much as I’d wanted, and the bees couldn’t safely rebuild their hive without getting battered by the rain. It became so severe that Dad had to use buckets and bowls to redirect the water away from the crops. Thankfully, the rain stopped two days ago, perhaps signaling some sunny days ahead... but this situation left me uneasy. The crops were clearly suffering. They were less bountiful and growing at a much slower rate. It was obvious the absence of bees was taking a toll. I had hoped the bees would be able to rebuild their hive, but I hadn’t accounted for the persistent rain. At this rate, if the rain returned, the bees wouldn’t be able to finish rebuilding. And without the bees doing their part in helping our crops thrive, our family’s situation would continue to deteriorate: fewer crops, less food, and diminished income. By now, I realized I would have to take matters into my own hands.

……By drawing?

“By sketching out the diagram of a Warre hive, a man-made beehive that beekeepers back on Earth use to help struggling bee colonies.”

…..Yeah, why not? This definitely sounds like a practical idea.

A Warre hive is one of the simpler beehives to maintain. The structure consists of a stack of boxes, typically five, topped off with a slanted roof. The angle of the roof is designed to protect the bees and to ensure that rainwater falls off rather than pooling on top. There’s also a small gap between the roof and the topmost box, allowing the bees to regulate the hive’s temperature. Instead of frames, the Warre hive uses bars, enabling the bees to create their own combs. This design allows the beekeeper to do little more than replace the bottom box………If you actually care, the beekeeper typically adds empty boxes in the spring and harvests honey by the fall. Given the chill in the air and Sys’ personal calendar, it’s clear that this region is nearing the fall season. With all of that said, now all I need to do is to build it…….which is…..not going well.

This looks like a doctor’s handwriting in drawing form.

The sad thing was, I couldn’t even refute Sys. This drawing of mine looked more like a police sketch.

From what I can see, you tried to draw a beehive…….but instead, you drew a skinny tower of squares, topped off by an uneven triangle, with half of the actual triangle missing………What the fuck is this?

“Fine.” I tried to fix it to the best of my ability, but before I finished, Mom came into the room.

“What are you doing, Beric?” Mom asked with a whimsical tone.

“Drawing.” I responded.

Does this even count as drawing anymore? It feels more like murder. A tree’s life was taken for this.

Mom laid down on her stomach to mimic my position. She watched with an awkward look at what I was confidently drawing. “Honey, what are you…..uhm, trying to draw?”

Your own mom doesn’t even know what she’s looking at.

“Thanks for the useful input.”

I paused, my hands stilling as I turned to look at Mom. Her eyes were still weary, but the faint glow in her green eyes lingered. "House."

“For who?”

“Bee.”

“The bees?” Looking closer at the drawing, she saw my attempts at drawing rain falling on the hive, and the…….

Say it.

……The floating rocks with wings happily buzzing around within the hive.

Lord have mercy.

Mom figured it out by this point. “You’re drawing a house for the bees? To protect them from the rain?”

I nodded my head, getting back to work……….if I was being honest, I felt kind of down that she couldn’t even recognize my own drawing.

“You’re so cute!” She suddenly attacked me, pulling me into a tight hug as she gushed over my pitiful drawing.

For some odd reason, I could feel the silent, judging gaze of Sys.

Mom suddenly got up and called for Dad. “Lucian, hurry! Come look at what Beric drew.”

Dang, she’s gonna bring the entire family out. That’s embarrassing as hell.

Dad’s heavy footsteps soon echoed, and within moments, his tall, sturdy frame appeared in the doorway. As always, his expression was neutral, but there was a subtle gleam in his eyes.

“Look, Beric drew a little house for the bees!” She snatched the paper from my grasp, which just left me speechless. Like damn, you couldn’t let me show him myself?

You would be fine with personally owning up to that drawing?

“.........I mean, no, but-”

Dad carefully took the drawing from Mom’s hands and glanced at what I had sketched. It was faint, but the hint of a small smile tugged at his lips.

“He even made the roof in a special way so the rain would fall off.” Mom added cheerfully.

Dad’s smile went away as he noticed what Mom pointed out. He looked back at me, something else other than a shine in his eyes now.

“I don’t know what these arrows are for, along with all of these circles inside the combs.” Mom playfully pronounced with a quizzical look.

“......” Dad was silent, now studying the paper with a serious look.

“Is everything alright?” Mom finally noticed the shift in Dad’s face.

All I could do was wait……though, I didn’t like how things were going right now.

“This drawing……..isn’t just a drawing.” Dad finally said.

“What do you mean?” Mom didn’t quite understand what Dad was alluding to.

“....The roof would actually work on diverting the rain away from the hive.”

“Well yeah, but so what?”

“.....The arrows at the bottom are used to show the moving of these bottom objects, boxes I’m guessing. They’re there to show that you replace the bottom boxes, and the circles within the comb represent the honey that culminates within the boxes.”

“....What?”

“.....This tower-like structure uses bars to act like combs for the bees to build upon, allowing them to naturally create both combs and honey…….” He looked right at me. “This drawing…….is actually a blueprint for a makeshift hive.”

Mom also looked at me, a look of wonder and astonishment.

Huh, I’m surprised he actually managed to get all of that. I guess things went well again, Beric………Beric? Beric, are you okay?

I didn’t know what Sys was talking about. I was perfectly fine. My drawing did its job, and Dad could see the true intent behind it. Why wouldn’t I be fine? My plan worked……..But, still……Why do you have to look at me like that?

Why are you looking at me as if I did something wrong?

Isn’t it obvious I’m trying to help you?

To help us?

Stop looking at me.

Stop it.

Stop.

It’s a shame isn’t it?

….No. Now’s not the time to appear.

You tried to help them, but of course, this is what you receive. Mere worried looks as to who you truly are.

Go away. No one asked you to be here. No one wants to hear you.

That’s true……But the same could be said for you. As soon as they figure out who you actually are, you’ll be just like me.

Sys, are you there?

Sys isn’t here. Stop relying on others to help you.

……….Leave me alone.

Filthy hypocrite. You detest the idea of others affecting your decisions, yet you so readily beg for help from another. Not to mention, this whole situation right now. Why did you even do all of this? Why did you do this instead of thinking of a plan to help Nightclaw hunt during the rain? Why are you so hung up about the bees?

…….You’re not real. You’re just an annoying voice.

I heard the Corrupted Voice take a deep breath. Eventually, your true identity will be revealed, be it out of your own volition or another unnatural cause……..So, to prepare for that, what do you do?

Why are you so loud……..Why is it so damn hard to hear my own thoughts?

You masquerade as an intelligent and responsible son, a person fully capable of being cherished by their family……You hope that, when they find out……they’ll be willing to overlook it all, just because of how much of a good son you’ve been……You hope that, they’ll still love you.

The sudden feeling of the gentle grip of a hand on my shoulders jolted me back to reality. It was Dad, but this time, his smile was back.

“This is great work.” He tousled my hair as he got up and analyzed my drawing once more.

“I always knew you were special.” Mom added, hugging me tightly again. “Arthur, Elaine, come in here!” She yelled out.

Beric, are you okay?

“.....Did you hear me say anything?”

No. You’ve just been sitting there for a few seconds. The only thing that stood out was how your vitals spiked for a bit…….though, I don’t see as to what could've caused that.

“I just had a….huge headache for a minute……it’s probably nothing.”

…….Alright.

Arthur and Elaine came bounding around the corner and into the room. They were puzzled about why they’d been called, but Dad quickly explained the situation. They looked at the drawing, surprised by what I had created. The two of them came over and praised me for what I’d accomplished. “Nice going, bro.” Arthur smacked me on the back.

“That’s quite exceptional of you.” Elaine earnestly said while patting my head. (She also hit Arthur for hitting me a little too hard.)

“Arthur.” Dad suddenly said. “Come help me make this hive.”

Arthur grinned. “Sure, pops.”

“Oh, and…..bring Beric.” Dad added before turning around.

Everyone besides Dad was surprised, especially me. I wasn’t expecting this to happen.

“Beric too? But, he’s far too little. What if he hurts himself?” Mom asked. She was probably the most worried one.

“Arthur and I will keep a close eye on him. We’ll make sure to. Right, Arthur?” Dad asked.

Arthur nodded his head. “Yes sir.”

Stolen novel; please report.

“But still, what could he possibly even help with? It’s not like he can lift much, and the tools are too sharp for him to use.”

Dad turned back around. “I hear your concerns, but all Beric will do is watch Arthur and I build it. I simply want him to get some real experience by watching us, and to mimic what we do when he gets older. I just want him to at least be a part of building his own invention.”

Mom became silent after that. Her eyes switched back to Dad and I, internally struggling as to what to do.

Elaine then went over and held Mom’s hand. “I’m sure Beric will be fine, Mom. You can trust Dad and especially Arthur. He knows what’ll happen if he lets anything happen to Beric.” She smiled at Arthur, but everyone knew it was fake.

“Of course! I’ll watch over Beric like a hawk!” Arthur loudly stated, trying to hide his unease at Elaine’s expression.

Seeing how everyone was confident in keeping me safe, Mom let out a sigh, as she said, “Fine. But bring him back before nightfall.”

Dad nodded in response as he walked out to the front door. Arthur took hold of my hand as he guided me to follow.

Before I fully left the room, I felt the burning feeling of someone intensely staring at me. Turning around, all I saw was Mom and Elaine smiling and waving at me……..That’s odd.

Arthur and I stepped out of the house, trailing closely behind Dad. He still held the drawing in his hand, scrutinizing the blueprint with keen attention to every detail.

The forest hadn’t changed much since my last visit. The trees remained towering, concealing whatever creatures might be thriving within the meadow. Sunlight filtered through the few gaps in the canopy, providing enough light for the three of us to navigate safely. The ground was as rugged as ever, but Dad’s efforts had made a visible path, free of thorns and thistles that could trip us up. The forest buzzed with life, yet it was clear by the sun’s position that evening was approaching. At most, we had about three hours to complete the hive before I had to leave.

“You know, Dad’s the village repairman. Whenever someone’s got a leak or having trouble with building something, Dad’s the one they call for.” Arthur said, walking right by my side.

I already knew Dad was skilled with construction and handwork, but village repairman? That’s interesting.

“Dad actually used to work for a noble, overseeing all of the construction that took place within the noble’s home.”

Woah, hold on a minute. “Noble?” I asked, trying to make sure I heard him right.

“Yeah, he was the…….well, I don’t remember the exact title, but he was the guy who the noble would depend on for all of the buildings and the handwork that was put into them.” Arthur calmly stated, as if he didn’t just drop a bombshell.

This was…..intriguing. If Dad really did work for a noble……then what happened? “And Sys, why’d you never tell me this?”

I didn’t think it was important.

“I was actually younger than you when Dad stopped working there.” Arthur said, slowing down his steps, possibly to not let Dad overhear the conversation.

“Why?” Was he fired?

“No one knows. I tried asking him, but he’s never given me a straight answer. Same with mom……I guess something happened there…….” Arthur kicked a stone away, perhaps out of annoyance as to why no one had told him the truth. “They never tell me anything…….it’s not like I try to be dumb…..” His face took on a somber tone.

Arthur was usually the goofball of the family. If there was any laughter echoing through the house, it was likely because of him…….There were even times when I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his antics. But I know Arthur isn’t just the family clown. He’s also heroic, a great brother to both Elaine and me. He’s earnest and dedicated to whatever task is given to him…….as long as it doesn’t involve bugs... and if it isn’t too boring. It’s no surprise that Arthur often feels left out of serious matters, given how people tend to overlook him or dismiss him as being unable to be serious.

I took a hold of his hand. He looked at me, probably wondering if I wanted a piggy back ride.

I didn’t want one. I simply smiled at him and said, “Good brother.”

His face brightened at that. With a slight laugh, he stood tall, beaming proudly at me. “Hah, of course I am. Here, get on my back. Let’s race Dad to his lumber yard.”

I climbed his back, safely securing my place. Then, like a flash, Arthur ran, zooming past Dad. Dad merely looked up and, upon seeing us, picked up his pace. Arthur let out a yell of excitement as he hopped over a few rocks, dodged the hanging tree branches, and ducked beneath the thorny vines scattered across the trees.

But now, something weighs on my mind after seeing Arthur’s momentarily saddened expression. Is it the clown’s fault that no one takes him seriously? Or is it the others who, blinded by their preconceived notions, refuse to believe him? As I ponder this, a certain fairy tale comes to mind. You’re probably familiar with it: The Boy Who Cried Wolf. It’s a classic tale about a young boy who repeatedly lies about a wolf attacking his sheep, and the villagers who always fall for it. Eventually, the villagers begin to doubt the boy and stop believing his claims. Then, one day, the boy’s lie becomes reality. Wolves truly appear, and they start devouring his sheep. The boy calls for help, but none of the villagers come to his aid. The story ends with all of his sheep lost………and, in some versions, the boy himself is eaten. A harsh and brutal ending for a young child.

So, I ask the question again: Who is to blame? Or more specifically, who is at fault for the wolves eating the boy’s sheep?

I ask this for one simple reason. I believe that a whole herd of sheep, when attacked by wolves, would make an incredible noise—a noise loud enough for the villagers to hear……….And yet, they did nothing. They ignored the boy’s cries and stayed locked in their homes. If I’m right, then it’s almost as if they let the boy’s sheep be eaten………..But why? Well, here’s my answer: I think the villagers grew so weary of the boy that they decided to let him suffer, to punish him for what he had done. But did the boy truly deserve that? Surely, he begged. Surely, he wept and groveled, pleading for anyone to help him. Surely, he promised that this time was real……….that this time, things would be different. That this time, he was different…………..that he was better. He was just a young boy, bored with his job. He only wanted to have a little fun with a harmless lie. But the villagers didn’t care. Instead of giving the boy a chance to redeem himself, they let him fall victim to his own mistakes, fully aware they could’ve helped. All they had to do was believe in him………All they had to do was give him one more chance.

But, of course, they wouldn’t. After all, the very idea of change is absurd. Because of one mistake you made in the past, society won’t hesitate to persecute you. Blinded by hatred for who you once were, they ignore your genuine attempts to change, to become better than the person you used to be. You try so hard to take that first step, to show that, even if it’s small, you’re capable of becoming a better person…………but it doesn’t matter. Society doesn’t care for feel-good stories. They don’t want to hear about how some “trash” human being becomes a hero. They need villains, people who refuse to change, who remain static in their flaws. They need these so-called “monsters” to rally against. They need a common enemy to unite the whole of society…………But what about you? What about the source of all this? What do you do?..........Faced with all of this, you can only do one thing……….give up.

What’s the point of trying to become a better person if everyone treats you like you never tried to?

We arrived at the lumberyard, the same open field filled with stumps of cut down trees and the sprouts of baby trees. It looked the same as when I last saw it, aside from a few additions to Dad’s tools.

Arthur placed me on the bench as he started tidying up an area for himself.

Dad then finally arrived, eyes now off the drawing. “Arthur, get all the large, flat bark you can find and bring them back here. Make sure to also grab an ample amount of vines. I’ll deal with the logs.”

“Understood.” Arthur saluted before zooming off into the tree-line. The way he ran off reminded me of an old cartoon. It was the one that had the…….ostrich?.......No, that wasn’t it……a penguin?.....What was it?

“Beric.”

Dad’s voice pulled me back. I noticed that he had a small bowl in his hands. He kneeled down on one leg, while offering me the bowl. “I need you to go and gather as much mud as you can with this bowl. Can you do that for me?”

If I was being honest, I did not want to do this. I was already being forced to go along with them, and now I had to help them……..Did they forget I’m only 1?

Bitching about it isn’t going to speed it up.

Yeah, Sys is right.

I took the bowl from Dad’s hands. “Okay.”

Dad smiled at that. “Thank you.” He got back up and started getting to work, grabbing an axe and cutting the logs he had on hand.

Weren’t they supposed to keep a close eye on you?

“There’s like a huge puddle of mud 4 feet away from me. Nothing’s going to happen.”

What if you trip on a rock, fall face first into the puddle, snort up some of the mud accidentally, and slowly die internally as a dangerous parasite thrives off your insides?

“Thanks for the horror movie idea, but no, I think it’ll be fine.” I walked on over to the mud puddle…….making sure I somehow wouldn’t slip, and started scooping up some of the mud. I figured that Dad needed the mud for insulating the hive. Bringing it back, I placed the bowl on a table. I then walked over back to the bench and took a seat. Dad and Arthur were both still hard at work, so I decided I might as well relax.

If you could only eat soup with a fork, how long do you think it would take?

………I guess I won’t be relaxing any time soon.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Half an hour went by, and Arthur finished gathering his supplies. He dropped them all near Dad’s station with a proud look. “What’s next?”

“Use the small axe on the table over there to cut the bark into rectangular pieces. Make sure to be careful and cut them all the same. Don’t rush it or you may hurt yourself.” Dad ordered mid-hacking.

“Okay!” Arthur obeyed and instantly began working on the task, slowly but accurately cutting the bark.

Time to wait again.

What language do deaf people think in?

Oh my go-

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Another full hour passed, and the two had completed their tasks. Arthur proudly displayed his neatly cut rectangular pieces, while Dad finished gathering all the necessary wood. Dad then began crafting the “boxes,” tying the vines together, while Arthur started carving branches with his axe into small bars for the bees to use in building their own combs.

“Don’t do it.”

……..

“Sys.”

If you yell at your reflection in the mirror, who’s the one who’s being rude?

“........That’s actually a good question.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Another full hour had passed, and the sun was finally beginning to set. Hints of orange spread across the sky, signaling the approach of evening. The forest was alive with the sounds of crickets, and the occasional hoot of a distant owl echoed through the trees. The shadows from the trees began to dance, announcing the arrival of night. Thankfully, Dad and Arthur weren’t wasting time—they were about to finish the hive.

The tall stack of boxes stood on the ground, complete. Dad made his final adjustments, ensuring the boxes were tightly packed together with the vines. He checked that everything was properly insulated and that the lengths were uniform. Arthur had just finished the roof and, eager to test it, poured a small amount of water on top. Watching the water flow off smoothly, he yelled out in excitement. The hive was finished.

Expecting to head home, I stood up from the bench and prepared to leave. To my surprise, Dad suddenly gestured for me to come over. I complied, curious about what he needed. My surprise grew when Dad grabbed my hand and placed a knife into it. He then guided me from his side and positioned me right in front of him, pulling me into what could only be described as a bear hug. Or rather than a hug, it felt more like a position where he could direct my movements.

“Since this is your invention, you’ll be the one to finish it.” Dad explained, guiding my hand to the bottom box.

I followed his guide and started carving a small circle. Little by little, the makings of a small hole began to form, from which I presumed to be the hole the bees would use to both enter and exit the hive.

“Nice handwork.” Arthur chimed in.

It took a few minutes, until the hole fully formed. And with that, the hive was done.

That took way too long.

Dad took the knife from my hands and placed it on the nearby table. “You see that, Beric? We created this, with your design.”

It’s not my most proud work, but I guess it’ll do just fine.

Dad turned me to face him and, still holding me, stood up. Lifting me high into the air, he exclaimed, “You are a genius!” His normally neutral expression was now replaced with a wide, bright smile. His usual quiet brown eyes sparkled with a warm, hazelnut glow.

“You might even be better than Dad,” Arthur muttered, his gaze focused on the completed hive. It seemed like Arthur had fully grasped the intricacies and potential usefulness of the hive now that it was fully built.

Quickly and seemingly out of nowhere, He slowly lowered me to the ground, his movements carrying the weight of weariness. With the look of an exhausted, aging man, he knelt down before me once again. Locking eyes with me, he spoke, “Beric, I regret that……I can’t provide you with the life you deserve. A genius like you should’ve been born into a rich life, a life full of opportunity and prosperity……..but to be born instead to someone like me…….it’s a cruel joke, isn’t it?”

The air took on a cold feel, as I could only stare back at Dad. I was quiet not out of respect for the situation or of empathy or anything like that. I was quiet because……I agreed with him. No matter what gifts you may be blessed with, they mean nothing if you were to be born into a life where you can’t present them……..I really, really had hoped to be born as a noble, or something of that caliber…….and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed to find out that I was born as a commoner………but still, I disliked hearing him say all of this. It wasn’t his fault. There’s no need for him to apologize………when I should be the one to.

Don’t feel sorry for him.

I’ll do what I want.

You’re letting it happen again.

And I’m fine with it. So, leave. You’ve already appeared enough for now.

So be it.

Arthur paused his cleaning, hearing Dad’s words. Even someone as young as him could sense the weight of what had just been said.

Dad took a moment to collect his thoughts, his gaze dropping as if he couldn’t bear to meet mine. “I... I know I can’t give you everything you need to succeed.” His voice wavered, a crack I never thought I’d hear from Dad. He looked up at me again. “But I will give you everything I can. I’ll share all the knowledge I have, and I’ll do everything in my power to provide you with the resources, the money, and the support to help you succeed.” His eyes had changed from the tired and weary dark, brown eyes, but to the steady, resolute chestnut eyes that I had come to rely on.

……..It wasn’t so bad to see.

“Uh…..Dad?”

“Yes, Arthur?”

Arthur snuck his way to our sides, quietly listening in on the entire time. “Are you sure that Beric wants to become an…..archcect?......archigect?”

“An architect?”

“Yeah, that, or whatever job that deals with fixing and building stuff.”

“What do you mean?” Dad’s eyes were now curious.

“It’s just that……..sure Beric’s probably a genius in building stuff, but is that what he wants? What if he wants to be something else? Like a chef…..or a trader…….or even a fisher?” Arthur’s voice was quiet, and yet, even with the wind rustling in our ears, it was loud and clear to the both of us.

Dad looked at Arthur. He considered Arthur’s words carefully. “You’re right………” He looked back at me. “Beric, what do you want to be?”

Sheesh, where did that come from?.......Hmmm, if I had to say right now, I’d probably have to pick something simple like a trader or an inn owner……hell, I probably shouldn’t even answer. Why would a one year old even have a dream job?......Yeah, that’s right. I should just stay quiet. It’d be much better and smarter to-

“Adventurer.”

……….What? Who said that?......Was that Arthur?

Arthur looked at me with wide open eyes, full of surprise.

Nope. It couldn’t have been him. Dad?

Dad had the same reaction, albeit with a less obvious expression.

No…..plus the voice didn’t fit………but then, if it wasn’t them…….then it has to be…….me. Did it just slip out accidentally? Was I thinking too hard that I didn’t notice my mouth moving on its own?......Shit.

It’s that same look.

Stop it.

I know I’m not normal.

You don’t have to keep staring.

I should’ve just stayed quiet.

Why did I say that?

Why am I like this?

Why can’t I just be-

“Hahaha.” Dad quietly chuckled.

The sound of Dad laughing took me aback. Did he go crazy? Was I…..that mind-altering?

He laid his right hand on my shoulder. Looking at me in the eyes with a proud smile, Dad said, “That's a very fine dream, Beric.”

……? I don’t understand.

“An adventurer huh? That’s kind of a scary job.” Arthur said while rubbing his chin. “I wanted to be one too when I was younger, but ever since then, I’ve heard way too many scary stories.”

But……is it not normal for me to pursue what I’m best at?........Why are they just fine with me saying that………Are they just not taking me seriously?

“An adventurer is a very noble profession. I’m sure that, if you wanted to, you would have been very successful following the line of architecture.” Dad closed his eyes, perhaps imagining that very future. “But, it’s not about that.” He reopened his eyes. “It’s about what you want to become. It’s about what you want to do. And, since you want to become an adventurer, then I guess we’ll have to help you learn magic and swordsmanship.”

…….It’s okay doing what I want to do?

“Though, we’ll have to wait until you’re older……..maybe when you’re around 7 we can start training you with a sword.” Dad said after a moment of thinking.

“You’ll also have me for some extra lessons!” Arthur proclaimed.

…….They’re fine with me wanting to become an adventurer……..and they’re not even scared of my capabilities, but rather, they encourage it………I can….be an adventurer?

For some reason, I felt a smile creeping upon my lips……except this time, I didn’t force it to appear. It came into being on its own.

“Okay!” I exclaimed.

For the first time in a while, I felt something strange.

I started to.....look forward to the future.