Clear upstream water begets clear downstream water.
Clear upstream water begets clear downstream water.
"Hero, what was your original world like? Tell me! Is it just like our world? Is it peaceful?"
A languid afternoon. Gentle sunlight, soft enough for wandering butterflies to rest on flower petals, filtered into Isel's room. As she ate the meal Silia had brought, Isel met the eyes of the girl staring at her with wide, sparkling anticipation. Silia sat in the same chair, but her small stature hid everything below her neck, making her look utterly adorable.
"It's peaceful. No Demon King, no monsters."
"Whoa... I'm jealous. It must be way better than here, right?"
At Silia's innocent question, Isel chewed thoughtfully, lost in memories. Modern Earth—a place of advanced civilization and high civic awareness—was undoubtedly more livable than here. The food, beds, entertainment, convenient tools: all superior. But Isel knew a good environment didn't make a great world. With a faint smile, she shook her head.
"No different from here. Just a place where people live."
"Really? Why? Without a Demon King or monsters, it sounds perfect."
Modern Earth, free from constant threats to life, was indeed safe. No need for night watches or huddling behind castle walls. But Isel—no, Yoon-seo—knew threats to life weren't limited to fangs at the throat. Modern life's harsh grind meant always running from something.
"This world's pretty livable too."
Though betrayed and enslaved, this world brimmed with dreams and romance, incomparable to Earth's drudgery. Silia, oblivious, pouted in complaint.
"Pfft, livable? Sword training's brutal, magic theory's tough, and those boring culture classes make me yawn. So dull! Doesn't your world have any fun stuff?"
At the grumble fitting her age, Isel smiled indulgently.
"Fun stuff..."
Isel set down her fork, pondering deeply. She wanted to give Silia an answer worthy of her excitement. But nothing came easily. What "fun" thing lay at the intersection of modern and this world—fresh yet comprehensible for a young lady? Movies or novels wouldn't work; films were alien, and novels existed here, dry as history books.
"Hmm... what fun things were there..."
Silia's brown eyes sparkled like they'd been photoshopped, propped on the table in eager wait. Sweating under the pressure, Isel finally spoke.
"Th-there were... comics... like that."
"Com...ics? For reading?"
"No. Well, you read and watch them."
"Huh? What's that?"
Before transferring here, Isel had been an art major in college. Skilled in drawing, she'd freelanced as an illustrator for living expenses and loved comics. She'd even tried webtoons but quit, lacking storytelling talent.
"You draw a picture like a single frame and add dialogue like a play. That's a comic."
"Dialogue? On the picture?"
"Yes. And when the frames connect, they form a story like a novel. That's a comic book."
"Ooh... so weird. Is it that fun?"
Silia's eyes widened with interest. This world had portraits, landscapes, still lifes—but no comics anywhere on the continent.
Isel nodded. "Yeah, I loved them. Different charm from novels."
"Eee, if the Hero liked them! I wanna see! Can you show me?"
"C-comics? Here...?"
"Hee hee."
Isel panicked, but Silia grinned and nodded vigorously. Isel hadn't drawn since arriving. Biting her lip reluctantly, she nodded. She had no right to refuse her master's command, after all.
"...It's been ages since I held a pen, but I'll try."
"Yay~! Wait! I'll grab pencil and paper!"
Before Isel could reply, Silia bolted from the room. Stunned in her chair, Isel glanced at Mila in her birdcage. Who'd have thought she'd draw in this world? Life truly was unpredictable.
Thud-thud-thud. Silia dashed down the hall on short legs, rummaged her drawer. Junk flew everywhere. Spotting the pencil, she beamed, grabbed paper, and headed back—only to be stopped at the door.
"Silia."
"Huh?"
It was Roden, arms crossed, frowning unpleasantly.
"Why?" Silia snapped curtly.
"What're you doing?"
"Hero's drawing comics for me, so I'm bringing these."
She showed the pencil and paper. Roden sighed deeply.
"Giving a slave something pointy? You nuts?"
"What?"
"What if she stabs or threatens you?"
"Nonsense. Hero wouldn't. And you—"
Now Silia scowled at him. Roden faltered slightly.
"Quit calling her slave or you'll get scolded?"
"It's a slave. What else you call it? Master named her that."
"Anyway! Call her slave again and I'll punish you!"
Purple mana flickered briefly in Silia's hand, then vanished. But Roden held firm. Silia's birthday party started tomorrow. In such precarious times, her carefree play with Isel was unnerving.
"B-before you tell Master, cool it! Forgot the king comes tomorrow?"
"Hmph, tell him if you want."
Roden worried sincerely, but Silia scoffed dismissively and marched to Isel's room. Roden sighed long, rubbing his forehead.
"Ha... can't talk sense into her."
He followed her inside anyway.
"Whoa~! This is a comic?"
"...Phew, just a rough try. I'm not great at it."
"So cool... Style's realistic, but with dialogue, it's way more fun."
Silia marveled at the yellowed paper—poor refining tech. Two neat panels held cute comic art. Isel scratched her head sheepishly, glanced at Roden glaring sulkily, then explained to Silia.
"...F-first panel's getting out of a car."
"Car? What's that?"
"Like a carriage here, but super fast."
"How fast?"
"Hmm... Capital to here in 30 minutes?"
"Capital...? No way! Nothing that fast exists~!"
Silia yelled, thinking it a joke, but Isel's shrug and raised brow convinced her. The Hero's world really is special, her face said. She pointed to the second panel.
"What's this? Wings?"
Isel reached to explain with the pencil, but Roden gripped his wooden sword and stepped forward. Isel leaned back warily; Roden narrowed his eyes threateningly. To her, the sword-bearing boy looked merely cute.
"Protecting the lady from a traitor. Pencil's sharp—careful."
"...Ha, back off already?"
"Just keeping my vow to Master."
"She's the Hero. Not dangerous—back off before I get mad."
"..."
Silia growled angrily; Roden clamped his mouth shut and retreated to the wall. Isel nodded respectfully at his actions. Roden seemed kind and upright. Awkward yet loyal in guarding his lady. Serving his master meant sound beliefs; his wariness had reason.
What was true, anyway. Above all, his eyes on Silia brimmed with sincerity. No real threat.
Reading Isel's gaze, Silia chided Roden.
"Kid's good-hearted but overzealous. Forgive him, Hero. Sorry on his behalf."
"N-no... He's right. I'm a traitor slave."
"..."
The mood soured. Silia whipped around, glaring daggers at Roden, fist raised—knuckle sandwich incoming. Roden whistled innocently, averting eyes. Ow, Silia's knuckle sandwiches hurt.
"Oh! Right."
To lighten things, Silia clapped loudly.
"My birthday party's three days starting tomorrow—what do you wanna eat? I'll sneak some."
"N-no. Might cause misunderstanding."
"Pfft, I know."
"Huh?"
"As lady, providing means for what you want. Gotta eat to work, right?"
"...What?"
Isel muttered confusedly. What could a duke's daughter want from a powerless slave? But Silia smirked, eyes dropping. Isel's followed—to the paper.
"Draw more comics. Your cool story as a comic. Happy ending! Must be happy!"
"Y-you want comics...?"
"Yes! I love happy endings!"
Silia beamed, hands clasped. She hoped her idol would heal her wounds through this. Though real life ended sadly, comics could offer joy. Not as slave, but Hero. Plus, comics seemed way funner than dull novels.
Silia grinned, standing.
Of course, Isel couldn't grasp her young master's depth. Hard to imagine such profundity from a 12-year-old.
"Go Hero, fighting!"
"Ah..."
A busy day loomed for Isel.
That night, under unusually bright moonlight, Isel drew fervently. Her own story, per Silia. Pencil scratched lines and dialogue freely. With purpose after losing all—even direction—she lost track of time in long-missed fulfillment. No need for story barriers; it was hers.
How long? An owl hooted; she stretched luxuriously.
"Kuhhh...!"
Then.
—Knock knock knock.
Her master, Rosel's knock. Always three precise raps—not too loud, not soft—thoughtful.
Oh, Master...!
She'd kept him waiting. Hiding her twitching smile, she hurried to open.
"Isel, I hope I'm not disturbing your sleep?"
"N-no, sir..."
But Rosel's face was grim. The dreaded day had come. Time to talk. Of the harsh storms approaching.
That they'd face together.