The Good News Arrives
Jack frantically untied the string from the pigeon's leg. His small hands trembled, whether from nerves or haste. After several failed attempts, he finally detached the small canister. He was about to dash off when the pigeon pecked insistently at the back of his hand.
“Ah! Sorry. I was in such a rush I forgot.”
Jack dug through the soil in his bucket with a trowel and pulled out a small earthworm. The pigeon flapped its wings excitedly at the sight of the wriggling creature.
“Thanks for your hard work, Coo-coo! Eat this before you go!”
After placing the worm in the pigeon's beak, Jack clutched the canister tightly and sprinted toward the village chief's house. Several villagers, recognizing the familiar scene, followed behind him with hopeful voices.
“News from Grace Castle?”
“Yes! I'm heading to the chief's house right now!”
Jack answered diligently even as he panted for breath.
“That's right!”
The man who had asked waved his hand toward a distant group and shouted. They immediately dropped what they were doing and came running after Jack. It was a sight that had become common in Morta Village over the past week.
“Chief! A carrier pigeon has arrived.”
Jack pounded on the door and shouted. Hope, who had been waiting, flung the door open and took the canister from him.
The murmuring of the crowd that had followed Jack ceased all at once, as if by agreement. Several women clasped their hands together in prayer, their faces filled with desperate hope as they watched the chief's hands.
For the past six days, the people of Morta Village had received news that their lord still had not regained consciousness. Each time, some shed tears while others returned home in despair.
Yet they could not give up. Every day, they waited for the carrier pigeon with fervent prayers, and today, on the seventh day, they had come running with the same fragile hope.
Hope's wrinkled hands trembled as he pulled a small slip of paper from the canister.
That day, the cries of the Cullens outside had been pure terror. The peaceful village had turned into hell in an instant.
When the knights' shouts gradually faded and only the Cullens' roars remained, he had truly believed it was the end. But then the knights' voices returned.
The Cullens' cries sounded strangely different from before. Hope took a deep breath and cracked open the wooden window to peer outside. What he witnessed was beyond belief.
The young lord was fighting the Cullens. Even knowing the danger, Hope could not close the window. The lord, shooting beams of light toward the monsters, looked like an angel sent from the heavens. When the great light flashed, Cullens plummeted from the sky, and Hope's legs gave out beneath him.
While he was still struggling to believe what his own eyes had seen, urgent voices calling for the lord echoed from outside. Sensing instinctively that their lord was in peril, Hope grabbed a pickaxe and rushed out despite his wife's protests. Though his body was old, he felt he had to do something. He was not the only one who thought so—men from every house poured out clutching sickles, clubs, and whatever weapons they could find.
But by the time they reached the square, a Cullen had already snatched the lord and soared into the sky. The knights could only stare upward, unable to shoot for fear of hitting her. A brilliant light illuminated the surroundings once more, and the lord fell to the ground. Hope had been haunted by nightmares of that day ever since.
“What does it say? Has the lord still not woken up?”
One villager who had been waiting for Hope to read the letter could no longer hold back and pressed him. He was usually respectful toward the chief.
Hope, who had unrolled the paper, remained silent. Tears welled in his eyes as his thin shoulders shook. For a week he had barely been able to eat, and the small amount of weight he had gained had already vanished.
“Don't tell me… the lord has passed away?”
A woman asked in a trembling voice. Murmurs of alarm spread through the crowd. Hope shook his head frantically and held the paper aloft.
“The lord has finally awakened!”
Tears streamed down Hope's sunken cheeks.
“Waaaaah!”
“Long live the lord! Long live our lord!”
“Huuu huuu huuu, thank you, God!”
The villagers erupted in joyous cheers. That night, the people of Morta Village slept soundly for the first time in days.
Delma had set up a simple cot in one corner of Chloe's room. After taking the medicine the doctor had given her, her fever had broken, and she now stayed by her lord's side day and night.
Chloe had told her several times to sleep comfortably, but it was no use. Delma insisted that she would only feel at ease if she remained right beside her rather than worrying alone in another room.
“You're so stubborn.”
Chloe gave in and lay down on the bed. Delma slipped her hand under the blanket to check the temperature. Several heated stone pouches had been placed inside since early evening, making the bedding pleasantly warm.
“Is it warm enough?”
Delma tucked the blanket up to Chloe's chin and asked again. Nothing seemed to reassure her completely.
“Yes. It's perfectly warm.”
“Is it too hot?”
Chloe smiled and shook her head at Delma's startled question.
“No, it's just right.”
“Sleep well. If you get cold in the middle of the night, be sure to call me.”
“I will. You should sleep too, Delma.”
“After I see you fall asleep, my lady.”
“Not until you lie down first.”
Both were equally stubborn. When Chloe stared at her with wide eyes, Delma reluctantly went to the cot and lay down. She had acted as if she wasn't tired at all, but the moment she lay down, soft snores filled the room.
Chloe's eyes grew moist as she watched the villagers worry and suffer alongside her, even though she had only been completing quests one by one. The sudden outpouring of care and affection felt like compensation for all the lonely days she had endured, filling her with a happiness so overwhelming it was almost burdensome.
Seeing Delma's body rise and fall evenly beneath the blanket in the darkness, Chloe's own eyelids grew heavy.
“I need to visit the other villages soon.”
She felt anxious about the time she had lost. But as Delma had said, recovery came first. She decided to follow the doctor's advice faithfully—take her medicine, sleep well, and rest properly. Soon, steady breathing could also be heard from Chloe's bed.
A short while later, a crackling sound came from beside Chloe's bed, and a blue status window appeared. From within it, a silver-haired man stepped out.
Taechang, visiting the ailing user.
Taechang glared at the status window with cold eyes, but the text did not disappear. Frowning in displeasure, he turned his head and looked down at the sleeping Chloe.
Bruises still marked her face and neck. Taechang sighed deeply as he gazed at his own hands. The status window, which had been watching his powerless back, erased its playful message and wrote new text.
It is not Taechang's fault. Your sudden use of power drastically reduced the time you could manifest, so it could not be helped.
After catching the falling Chloe and defeating the attacking Cullen, his power had been rapidly depleted. It had only been a matter of time before he dropped her. Taechang had descended as quickly as possible to bring her closer to the ground, but the drain on his strength accelerated, and Chloe had fallen from his arms.
Taechang stared quietly at his own arm, which was becoming transparent and powerless. He had thought twenty minutes of manifestation would be enough, but it was far from sufficient to restore his strength.
Taechang grasped the hourglass spinning on the back of his hand. He opened the lid and drank the liquid that had turned into a blue glow.
With a reluctant expression, he pried open Chloe's sleeping mouth and let the blue liquid flow inside. As her slightly furrowed brow gradually relaxed, Taechang stood up, and the hourglass he had been holding returned to the back of his hand.
The bruise on Chloe's cheek faded, and the swelling in her leg subsided further. Though invisible, her broken bones had likely mended a little more as well.
If you keep giving it away like that, you won't have any MP left. Taechang is going to become a gag character at this rate.
“Shut up.”
Take your irritation out on me, then. When your MP drops, you get hypersensitive, and I'm the only one who has to deal with it! Who am I supposed to complain to?
Taechang suddenly grabbed the status window that had been scribbling text on the square screen behind him. The rectangular display crumpled like a handkerchief. Moments later, the wrinkled status window curled into a round shape, and a pair of small wings sprouted from its sides. Short legs and a tiny beak also appeared. The status window transformed into a blue bird that chirped while only its tail feathers stuck out from Taechang's grasp.
It's because I'm worried about the master. If you keep favoring the user and we fail again like last time, what will we do?
When the blue bird suddenly spoke in a polite tone, Taechang released his grip. The bird flew up and landed on his shoulder.
You know, right? You and I are one. If the master fails, I disappear too. I want to return to my original form now. Look at this pathetic state!
The blue bird flapped its outstretched wings in displeasure. No matter how hard it flapped, its former majesty and grace were nowhere to be felt. Only its short, insignificant wings moved about in a frivolous manner, like a fly's wings.
At that moment, the last drop of light in the upper chamber of the hourglass fell with a soft plip. Simultaneously, the blue bird let out a sharp chirp and flattened back into a screen, while Taechang vanished into the blue window.
Chloe, deep in sleep, wore a much more peaceful expression.