Episode 0-a. Those Who Advance. (4)
In other words, I no longer saw the people of this world as mere characters, puppets acting out their scripted roles.
The hero and saintess were certainly pressing onward along the novel's predetermined path. The world around them was shaping up into the one scribbled out in words, an unstoppable plotline impossible to defy.
But from the vantage point of someone far removed from the eye of that storm, that's how it looked. They were living.
In the Empire, in the duchy, and right here in the snowy lands of Crepen.
They pursued their dreams with a fervor that couldn't be dismissed as simply following the novel's flow. Some dreamed of amassing great wealth. Others longed for a beautiful wife, or swore to buy themselves a noble title. One might aspire to become a renowned adventurer, while another yearned to aid the unfortunate.
They stepped forward, chattering about all these varied desires. Everyone lived their own lives, each carrying their unique spark of individuality.
Seeing those who had surged ahead of me long before, I gradually stopped viewing them as fictional roles or background players.
And that went for my companions too.
"We hope there won't be any war! It's good when people don't hate each other!"
Impossible as it might be, it was something that propelled them forward.
"I-I'll save those dying without access to holy healing. Th-that's my goal... eradicating diseases that threaten people."
Vast and reckless for those lacking something essential, but it was a step taken with unwavering conviction.
"...What good does knowing that do? If you've got nothing useful to say, kid, don't bother me and scram."
To some, it might hide secrets yet unspoken, but those eyes gleamed with the light of dreams.
"It's a noble's duty to stand before the common folk...! I, Lucia Vicente Todorica Simeo, shall practice noblisse oblige!"
I couldn't dismiss them. Even if others saw them as flawed in one way or another, I hoped their dreams would come true.
In the world I sought to change, on my journey defying the gods' will. What they harbored held real value, I believed.
And so, I too harbored a dream and pressed on. Far beyond my station—honestly, something so overwhelming it was little more than a sliver of hope.
Still, for that, I took another step forward.
Time flowed on in the northern snow country of Crepen. Aberly holed up in his room, continuing his experiments. The twins fulfilled their duties as children, eating their fill and playing to their hearts' content.
Horn never showed at the inn, glued to the forge, hammering sparks from the anvil.
And I...
Clang—
"Slow. Even your swings are."
"Hup, grr...! Shut your damn mouth...!"
I swung my sword, as always, striving to grow just a bit stronger.
"Ain. Don't raise your voice like that. Makes you look weak."
"Hah, it's not looking weak—I'm actually weak, so shut it...!"
"Yes, still weak. So remember this: no matter how fierce your resolve burns inside that body, mere sentiment won't topple the strong."
This fucking guy.
His words barely ended before clang— my sword flew from my grip, clattering to the floor.
"..."
"Full of openings. All of them."
Even though a master's guidance was invaluable, even though a mere clash of blades overwhelmed me utterly.
"Captain Yosep... please, just shut up for once?"
"Ain, if it irks you, get stronger. You've been here half a year, trained under me—show some results."
I always got rattled by the man's words, delivered so impassively, laced with mockery.
Every casual jab crushed my efforts to stay composed, and even today, it dragged me along.
"Whew... thanks anyway, as always."
"Right, today's the last spar, isn't it? You worked hard these months, Ain."
He was a knight of this small town in Crepen, captain of the guard.
I'd met him after arriving in Crepen, drawn by word of a free training ground.
"Hm, you swing that sword like shit. Self-taught?"
"..."
Thinking back, that was our first encounter.
"Not swinging the sword—you're getting swung by it. Wait, should I be talking to the sword instead? Hey, sword, what's your name?"
"..."
Like a gym rat who can't resist coaching a total newbie, he couldn't ignore a sword-swinging amateur.
"Hm, even a stray dog would laugh. If you're that bad, ditch the sword and juggle clubs for coin."
"Hey, enough! If you're gonna trash-talk, at least teach me something."
"Waited for you to say that. Follow me."
"Wait, you bast—crazy...!"
Just a near-noble knight with a talent for needling.
Recalling it all, one thought struck me: every damn word was pure asshole.
Anyway.
For nearly half a year, I'd trained under the captain.
"Still, you grew a lot, Ain. Time to move on, so seek other teachers elsewhere."
"Yes. Thanks a fucking ton, Captain Yosep."
Today marked the end of his lessons, so I bowed deeply in thanks.
"Drop the 'Captain.' After months together, we've got some bond."
"Yes, Captain Yosep."
"...You're not learning swordplay—just nitpicking bullshit before you leave. Suits you as a clown."
"I'll do that next time, Captain Yosep."
"..."
"What."
If I'd learned anything solid, it was how to talk back like a prick.
Truth be told.
Over the past half year, I'd serendipitously gained sword lessons and met my new companion, old man Horn.
But my original reasons for coming here were two.
First: materials for Aberly's research on the ash suppressant and cure. Rare stuff only found in the snow country—like the red sunflower buried in snow, unavailable elsewhere.
Plenty of those around, so I'd gathered them steadily, hoping to keep Aberly's work on track.
Second: make more money. For the last companion awaiting in the duchy, Lady Lucia Vicente Todorica Simeo—aka the money-grubbing Lucia—with funds she'd given to buy northern timber at rock-bottom prices.
'This is my ace move, Lady Lucia Vicente Todorica Simeo's bottom-buyout! If it fails, only my looks suffer...! I am forever the practitioner of noblisse oblige, Lady Lucia Vicente Todorica Simeo... s-so please, make it succeed...!'
Her trembling hands shoving over the cash still lingered vividly in my mind.
And now, the warehouse brimmed with stockpiled northern wood.
Crepen departure loomed—I felt it in my bones.
So.
I returned to the inn first, telling the twins.
"Prep's done. We're heading back to the duchy in a week. Wrap up what you're doing, pack early, and stand by."
"Yay, finally leaving this freezing country, Tori!"
"Yay... back to the warm duchy at last, Yaki."
The two, always shivering and whining about the cold, lit up, bouncing excitedly before me.
"We're outsiders here, so clean thoroughly—no hair, nails, bloodstains left in the inn."
"Okaay~!"
Grinning wide, they grabbed brooms and scampered off.
Next, I told Aberly the same.
"Ah... time to go already. B-but good thing you brought extra sunflowers last time... research is progressing well."
"Glad to hear. Before the duchy, seal any leftover sunflowers and materials with magic at the adventurer shop—don't forget."
"Y-yes, got it."
I watched him nod, then headed to the forge.
The forge's heat was always scorching, flames dancing eternally.
But.
"Horn."
"What."
"Get ready. In a week, you're coming with us to the duchy."
"Hm... yeah. This forge's fire's about due to die out."
Nothing lasts forever—even that fierce blaze faced its end.
So, to the man gazing wistfully at the forge, I spoke with a bittersweet pang.
"Horn, I promise again. Whatever your dream, I'll carve the path to make it real."
"I know. Though with your ragtag crew of rejects, who can say."
"It'll work. I'll make it so."
I vowed to him. I didn't know his dream yet, but I'd fan his flame brighter, fiercer.
Not the protagonist of this world, but I'd forge a way for those ahead to claim their dreams.
Staring into those deep, shadowed eyes etched by time, I declared it.
"...All show, no substance. Fine, piss off—got work to finish."
"Yes, see you at the inn in a week."
I bowed deeply and headed back.
Plenty left for me to prep too.
Back in my room, I wrote a letter.
Asha,
I've wrapped up everything in Crepen. We're heading back to the duchy soon, so if you're sending a letter, use the address I gave you for there.
Gift enclosed.
I scribbled it short, tucked the letter and a souvenir from a Crepen shop into a box.
I'd been sending her regional mementos from my travels.
This time: a snowglobe capturing Crepen's whirling flurries, snowcapped peaks, and village.
Inside the round glass orb.
White snowflakes danced.
And I.
Gazed at it, smiling softly.