I Made a Friend...!
Thirin muttered as she stared at the travel permit.
“......This looks wrong. The name’s written incorrectly.”
“Let me see that.”
When Thirin handed it over, Peter nodded.
“It turned out fine. Exactly as I instructed.”
“......Excuse me?”
It was fine? This?
Thirin’s temper exploded on the spot.
She had gladly let the old man handle all the administrative paperwork, only for him to pull this nonsense!
“Hey, you old fart! This doesn’t say Thirin—it says Ttirin!”
“Hehe, so you can read after all?”
“This dementia-ridden geezer…!”
“Now, now. That’s only if you pronounce it forcefully.”
Peter grinned.
“Say it softly and it reads as Thirin just fine.”
“You insane old bastard!”
Thirin looked ready to have a full-blown seizure, but Peter paid her no mind and calmly soothed her.
“Names carry meaning. I pondered over every single character. There was no ill intent, so you may rest easy. I swear on the one I believe in.”
“You did this on purpose?!”
Thirin was utterly dumbfounded.
“And what would an old man like you even think about? My name was already decided from the start!”
Peter laughed again, clearly pleased with himself.
“This cost quite a bit, you know. Carry it as is for now. If you truly dislike it, change it later. Unless you plan to wring me dry until even the foundation stones of this drafty old church are gone? Cut me some slack.”
“......”
Thirin found herself silenced by the old man’s pathetic whining.
She had no money.
Thirin was a civilized person, yet she had no money. Civilization is built upon money. Therefore, a Thirin without money could not truly be called civilized.
If she argued any further, she would be demoted from civilized person to barbarian.
“Goddammit……”
Thirin crumpled.
-Knock, knock knock.
While Thirin sulked in a heap, someone cautiously knocked on the church door.
Peter gave her shoulder a light pat and headed toward the entrance.
It was obvious who it was. One of Roderick’s subordinates, no doubt. The coward was probably telling them to disappear quickly.
A brief, quiet exchange filtered through the door crack. Soon Peter returned carrying two long, heavy bundles.
He dropped the haphazardly cloth-wrapped packages onto the rickety table in front of Thirin. When she unwrapped them, two familiar swords revealed themselves.
One was the crude blade Heres had wielded.
Like its owner—who had been shattered by Thirin’s four-inch punch—the sword was chipped and notched in several places.
The other was the respectable longsword Bjorn had left behind.
“...Tsk.”
Thirin clicked her tongue.
Unlike Heres’ weapon, the blade itself wasn’t damaged.
The problem was the sticky, dark-red stains clinging to it.
Her own blood.
These negligent civil servants hadn’t even bothered to wipe it clean.
Idiots. They must’ve been ranting about the witch again.
Peter, who had been quietly observing her, spoke in a low voice.
“When do you plan to leave?”
“...Dunno.”
Instead of answering, Thirin gazed out the window.
The sun was sinking, stretching lazy afternoon light long across the church floor.
Night would arrive soon.
Thirin made her decision.
“No point dragging this out. I’ll leave today. Right now.”
“I see. Where to?”
Peter asked calmly.
“The capital.”
Thirin answered without hesitation.
“The imperial capital. Aquila.”
She had a plan in mind.
To achieve rebirth through martial arts, Thirin needed experience—lots of it. Combat, training, or rampaging like a lunatic foal like she had last night.
Besides, who knew?
This was a rootless world where ancient, medieval, and early-modern empires, kingdoms, and city-states had been tossed into a blender. Gods dwelled in the pantheon, wizards performed miracles, and druids summoned elementals.
There might be some miraculous artifact or power that could restore her body without needing rebirth.
Maybe Thirin could take the quick-build route.
Easy mode!
Thirin was truly a martial-arts optimizer. The type who believed raising one’s realm was all that mattered.
Peter watched her giggle silently while imagining demonic cultivation and remarked,
“You smiling to yourself without a word is honestly creepy.”
“......”
A pure question suddenly occurred to Thirin.
Her charm stat was 180.
If there were one hundred members of the opposite sex, all one hundred would feel romantic attraction—an overflow that would cause roughly eighty out of one hundred of the same sex to feel sexual pull as well.
Even wearing a mask, her charm would still sit around 90.
So how could he look at her smiling face and call it unpleasant?
Come to think of it, this old priest had seen her bare face multiple times yet never once reacted to her appearance.
Just what kind of human was this old man?
Peter, completely unaware of her internal questions, continued in his usual tone.
“Anyway, having a clear destination is good. Wait here a moment.”
He disappeared behind the church’s old altar. The sound of a creaky wooden box opening followed, along with a puff of dust.
A short while later Peter returned with a small bundle.
“Take this with you.”
Inside the frayed cloth lay a well-worn whetstone and a small oil bottle sealed with a tight stopper. A faint scent of oil wafted out.
Thirin stared at him blankly.
“Old man, why do you even have stuff like this? Does a church need to sharpen blades?”
“I also spent my younger days on the road, just like you.”
Younger days, huh.
Thirin glanced at the hands resting on the table. Rough, weathered bandages that never came off, no matter the season, were wrapped around Peter’s hands.
He was an old man full of oddities. Unaffected even after seeing her real face.
Still, Thirin didn’t press further. She herself lived with her face hidden. She would chalk it up to personal taste.
Thirin meticulously cleaned Bjorn’s sword with the oil-stained cloth. As the dark-red stains came away, the clean blade sparkled, catching the twilight.
She slid the sword into its sheath and stood.
Now that the subject had come up, it really was time to go.
“Wait for me at the entrance. I have one stop to make.”
With that, Peter left the church in a different direction.
Thirin watched his retreating back for a moment, then headed to the village entrance first.
She hid behind a tree so the villagers wouldn’t see her and waited for Peter.
Wind blew, rolling dry leaves along the roadside. Smoke from evening cooking fires rose from the village.
Some time later, Peter appeared.
In his hand was a bundle slightly larger than hers.
“Miss Martha insisted I give you this. She’s worried you’ll starve on the road.”
Peter smiled slyly and held it out. The smell of bread tickled Thirin’s nose.
“......”
Thirin accepted the bundle without a word.
After a brief hesitation, she pulled a small pouch from her clothes and handed it over.
It contained the medicinal herbs and mushrooms she had gathered over the past few days, thinking she might sell them.
“Give this to that auntie.”
“Oh? Even now?”
“It’s for the bread. I can’t live with debts.”
Thirin snapped grumpily, whipped her head around, and started walking ahead.
When Peter followed with a hearty laugh, Thirin felt strangely embarrassed.
In her embarrassment, she picked a fight.
“...Old man.”
“What?”
Thirin nitpicked something Peter had said earlier.
“Since when have you called her Martha ‘Miss’? You never did before. Doesn’t seem like a fitting title for that auntie.”
Peter flinched but quickly composed himself.
“Ahem. A person can change how they address someone. What’s the big deal? And ‘not fitting’? Are you discriminating by age?”
“......”
Thirin narrowed her eyes at him. Come to think of it, Heres had said something before he died.
“The Savior Cult is the Love Cult or whatever. Don’t tell me you’re actually practicing the doctrine? A priest chasing a widow?”
“...Good grief!”
Peter raised his voice.
“What a scandalous thing to say! I’m easily twice your age, yet you have no filter at all!”
Thirin shut her mouth.
As expected, this old man isn’t right in the head. What a busybody…
Peter, who had been angry a second ago, suddenly lowered his voice as if nothing had happened.
“Hmm. And about the Savior Cult being a love cult—I don’t recall ever saying that. You seem to have heard quite a lot. You’re misunderstanding.”
Thirin didn’t reply.
Ridiculous old fart. Changing the subject because he has nothing to say.
She grumbled internally and continued walking in silence. Peter walked beside her without another word.
“...”
As time passed, the sun sank further west and the sky drank in every color of the world.
From navy to purple, then scarlet.
Clouds scattered like tufts of wool.
Trees dyed red cast long shadows.
The nameless grasses of the fields rippled like waves in the evening breeze.
The hour when everything headed toward its end.
The old man beside her stayed silent, yet the quiet wasn’t awkward.
“......”
If peace had a shape, perhaps this was it.
Thirin suddenly wondered if it would be all right for this moment to continue forever.
Maybe staying here wouldn’t be so bad.
The priest beside her was already quite old, and Thirin still had plenty of time.
The old man had no family. Who would watch over his final moments?
If she thought of it as repaying everything she had received from him, staying by his side for a few years wouldn’t...
“It’s fine.”
Peter suddenly spoke, almost tossing the words out. Thirin turned to look at him.
“What is?”
“You don’t have to repay any debt. I never considered it a debt in the first place.”
At his quiet words, Thirin unconsciously stopped walking.
“What?”
Peter simply smiled at her. For some reason his wrinkled eyes and gentle smile looked deeper than usual.
He walked slowly, and Thirin resumed her steps as well.
“......”
Thirin suddenly felt strange.
Something knotted inside her chest seemed to unravel, threatening to overflow.
“......Why.”
Unable to hold back, Thirin finally asked the question she had kept buried in the corner of her heart.
“...Why did you do it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why did you help me?”
Her voice came out rough, but Thirin couldn’t stop.
“I was a beggar bitch. Not even a normal one. A crazy beggar bitch who couldn’t speak properly—no, who could only spit curses. Rolling around in mud pits. It wasn’t ordinary madness.”
Thirin turned her head away from Peter, looking toward the village.
“The kids acted like little shits, and the adults with any sense wouldn’t even glance at me……”
“......”
“But I understand. If I were them, I wouldn’t have gone near a crazy beggar bitch like that either.”
Memories of the past six months flashed through her mind.
The endless pain at the bottom of the cliff that forced screams from her until even groans stopped coming.
The misery of rolling in muddy water, smearing soot on her face, destroying herself.
The dizziness of chewing what turned out to be poisonous mushrooms out of starvation, followed by terrible convulsions.
And the words she couldn’t convey.
The curses that burst out uncontrollably.
The children threw stones of malice; the adults avoided their gazes as if looking at bugs.
Crazy beggar bitch. Am-am. That had been Thirin’s name.
No one reached out a hand. No one met her eyes.
Thirin had accepted it. She had no choice but to accept it.
She couldn’t reach out. All she could offer was curses.
She knew that, so she never extended her hand.
Every door in the world was firmly shut to the crazy stranger. There was no way inside.
But why had Peter…?
Why had he opened that closed door and let her in?
Why had he spoken to that filthy, speechless, beast-like thing?
Why had he given her bread and clothes when he barely had enough for himself?
Why had he patiently waited until he could understand her insane babbling, curses, and profanities?
Why had he done it as if it were the most natural thing in the world?
“Why…?”
Thirin’s tone was blunt.
This wasn’t like her. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
She couldn’t understand herself.
She had wanted to say thank you to Peter, yet the words that came out were covered in thorns.
Even to her sharp question, Peter simply smiled gently.
“Well, why indeed.”
Thirin forced the corners of her mouth upward.
“...I’m serious, old man. Your answer will decide whether your tombstone gets gold leaf or silver leaf.”
“That tombstone nonsense again.”
Peter chuckled.
“There was a lonely, hungry soul before my eyes, and bread in my hand to share. That’s all.”
“......”
Was that really all?
That, that, that was……
Thirin didn’t know what to call it.
Seeing her silent, Peter smiled softly.
“You were searching so desperately for your mother. How could I not help?”
Am-am.
Mommy, mommy.
Mom, mom.
Mom.
“....”
Thirin couldn’t speak.
Peter continued.
“You have a habit of viewing everything as a transaction. Your words are always about debt, repayment, paying back… It seemed that if you received something, you had to return exactly as much—or more—to feel satisfied. Whether it was kindness or grudge.”
“......”
“If you couldn’t repay it, you wouldn’t accept it at all. You were always like that. Even just now.”
Peter smiled as if to say it was all right while looking at Thirin’s increasingly strange expression.
“But you don’t need to do that.”
“......I don’t need to?”
“That’s right.”
He looked up at the sky, as if searching for someone.
Then Peter met her eyes again.
“Learn to simply accept kindness. You don’t have to return everything. You don’t have to refuse just because you have nothing to give back.”
“......”
“It’s all right. It’s okay to do so.”
Thirin felt strange.
For some reason the feeling was… not good.
It wasn’t bad. But……
Peter kept speaking.
“If you want to receive kindness, receive it. If you want to give it, give it freely. You possess a compassionate heart.”
“What compassion do I have?”
Thirin spat grumpily. Peter laughed heartily.
“Even when you dealt with those foolish mercenaries. They were bad men, yet you gave them a chance before killing them. If it seemed they might reconsider, you waited. Isn’t that right?”
“......”
“So there’s no need to attach a grand reason. Just do as you wish. Help when you want to help. Receive when you want to receive. There’s no need to search for some lofty justification or obsess over repaying debts.”
“......”
“It’s fine to receive. Even if you can’t give anything back. It’s still all right.”
Peter stopped walking. They had reached the village boundary without realizing it. Thirin stopped as well and turned to face him.
She frowned.
It was dazzling.
She couldn’t see Peter’s face clearly.
The sun, flowing down with the sunset, sat behind his head like a halo. His face was submerged in shadow.
The smiling mouth within that shadow spoke.
“You owe me no debt.”
Peter continued.
“If you consider what you received from me a debt, do not try to repay it to me. Instead, when you meet another hungry and lonely soul on the road, share a piece of your bread with them. Then……”
“......Then?”
Peter’s final words rode the wind.
“Then you won’t be lonely.”
In the setting sun, Thirin’s eyes burned. She lowered her head. She could no longer see Peter’s face.
“......Hmph. Who said I was l-lonely.”
Thirin turned away. It was time to leave.
“......Will we meet again?”
A strange tightness filled her throat. From behind came Peter’s gentle laughter.
“That’s not like you at all. If you wish to meet, you will meet. Why ask such a thing?”
At those words, Thirin nodded.
“Yeah. If I wish to meet, we will meet.”
Thirin took a step.
No more words were needed.
She didn’t look back. She couldn’t look back.
That was how Thirin parted from her friend.
.
.
.
.
.
And one year passed.
.
.
Thirin still had not regained her original sex.
.
.
.
.
“...Fucking hell.”
Thirin, who still hadn’t recovered her most important body part, was slightly… off the rails.