Recollection
Whether it was because of that strange dream—nightmare or something else, hard to say—Luke woke in the small hours before dawn.
And so she learned just how far from right Yerna's mind truly was.
Anyone who woke at that hour would normally assume the other person had simply stirred from sleep. They would never ask, Did you sleep well?
"It must have hurt… I'm sorry. I've wanted… to say that for so long."
Yerna murmured it without meeting Luke's eyes.
The room was so still that every word reached Luke with perfect clarity.
"Yerna… is that really all this is about? It doesn't hurt at all anymore."
Damn. Maybe I should have shown her properly, embarrassment be damned.
Sensing real trouble, Luke drew the blanket up over her, closed her eyes with gentle fingers, and began to press and knead at her scalp.
It was Luke's own way of accepting the apology—because the only things she could offer Yerna right now were small kindnesses like this.
But small did not mean ineffective.
This was no ordinary massage. Through Mana Sight, Luke read the mana circulating inside Yerna's body, then spun her own circle to burn away the fatigue toxins clogging the flow—an advanced technique of mana manipulation, used only because she had no ingredients for a proper restorative elixir.
"Well? Does that ease the tiredness a little?"
To Yerna, though, it was simply a wonderful massage.
The hands were small and soft, yet the pressure within them found every dull, aching spot with uncanny precision and worked it loose. The skill was far too polished to belong to a beginner.
Yes—far too polished…
"You're really good at this…"
As Luke continued, Yerna's mind grew languid and clear, then quietly comfortable. Sleep began to tug at her again.
Kneading her hair, Luke asked in a worried tone,
"Truly, when you keep doing this to yourself, how am I supposed to stop fretting?"
"…Sorry. For making you worry."
What is there to be so endlessly sorry for? Luke sighed.
"Haa… There's still a little time before you have to leave for work. Why not get even a short rest?"
"No, I'm fine. Thanks to you, I'm not that tired. And… I'm not going in today."
"That's a relief, at least…"
Not going to work was genuinely good news. In this state, heading into the forest would have ended badly no matter what.
The exhaustion in Yerna's face and voice had lessened—yet the weight beneath it remained.
"Yerna…"
It was the heaviness of a tight chest. Something she clearly needed to say.
"What on earth have you been thinking about these days that keeps you from sleep?"
"…"
"What is it that's wearing you down so badly?"
Luke's hands stilled for a moment.
"Is it… my fault you can't sleep?"
"That's…"
She could not say no.
Luke understood exactly what that brief silence meant. Unspoken assent. Given Yerna's nature, if the answer had been no, she would have denied it at once.
At last Luke realized the answer she had been putting off was about to arrive.
"Why are you so good to me?"
Kindness without price.
She would stake her name on it: no such thing existed in this world.
Even for a child, there was a ceiling to the goodwill people freely gave. What Yerna offered Luke far exceeded ordinary kindness. Only a parent's love reached that height.
That should have been something to take pride in. So why was the one giving the kindness the one so full of anxiety?
Shouldn't Luke be the uncomfortable one?
Simply because Yerna was a good person?
I doubt it…
Even a saint would not wreck her own health fretting over a complete stranger's child.
The circumstances of how she had become Luke's temporary guardian were suspicious as well. Even if becoming a guardian had been the best option available, did it truly require using marriage as a means? Marriage was ordinarily one of the most important acts of a lifetime. To reduce it to a mere tool just to become the guardian of an orphan like Luke—there was no ordinary reason for that. No matter how she turned it over, it was not a sane idea.
At last Luke asked her.
"Tell me. What happened to you?"
"That's… nothing you need to worry about."
"Then why do you cling to me like this?"
Before she quite realized it, Luke had drawn her hands from under the blanket and taken Yerna's in a serious grip. The soft stroke across the back of her hand made Yerna's chest flutter.
"Please. Tell me. This mutual fretting does neither of us any good."
The firmness in Luke's voice made Yerna understand she could no longer push the truth aside.
"…All right. I'll tell you."
It was an old matter she had buried—but the time to bring it into the light had come.
Veriton, the elven nation whose land was eighty-seven percent forest.
Home to the world's only true World Tree, it was an extreme elven society—so extreme that eighty percent of the world's entire elven population lived there.
Thwack. A small stone struck dead center of a target fixed to a tree. Someone's shot, without question.
Follow the line of fire and you would find a golden-haired elf girl of about twelve, her hair in a high ponytail, one violet eye narrowed as she drew a slingshot taut and aimed for the heart of the target.
Twang. The stone flew and struck the center again.
Confirming the hit, the girl reloaded and took aim once more.
Twang.
Thud!
No matter how many times she fired, every stone found the exact center.
"Another bullseye!"
An admiring shout.
The girl turned toward the voice.
"Mom, did you see? I hit them all!"
She pointed at the target with a bright smile. The target bore only a single hole—dead center. Of course she was proud.
"I sure did! All ten right in the middle!"
As she spoke, the woman raised a camera.
Click.
"Did you get a good one?"
"Of course! Shall we head back and eat?"
"Yeah!"
The girl took her mother's hand with a sunny smile. Dirt from gathering stones still clung to her fingers, but her mother never wrinkled her nose. She only thought, mildly, that the first thing at home would be washing those hands.
"Our Karina really is a crack shot with a slingshot."
Not only slingshots—nearly every projectile, in fact. It was not because she was an elf. It was talent.
"Going to grow up and become an archer?"
"No! I'm going to be a forest ranger!"
"A forest ranger? Why?"
The answer clearly surprised her; she asked again with a slightly startled look.
The girl answered without a second's thought.
"Because I want to be a cool forest ranger like Dad."
"I see…"
At the girl's vigorous reply, her mother nodded with a faintly complicated expression.
Click. Click.
The sound of gear being checked in crisp, coordinated rhythm.
That sound always woke him and made the operation feel real. He liked it for that reason.
Today, though, the rhythm was off—because of one squad member staring blankly down at her gloved hands.
As squad leader, he checked the name tag.
Karina Rispind.
A newcomer, not long with the unit.
The youngest talent to join the special forces this quarter.
He already knew her file. Twenty-seven years old—young even by human standards, and for an elf, barely more than a child. Of course she would be tense.
He clapped her on the shoulder.
"Hey, rookie."
"Y-Yes, sir!"
"I know it's your first mission and you're nervous, but don't zone out. Check your gear. If something fails in the field, we're in real trouble."
"U-Understood!"
Click, click.
To his surprise, her hands on the iron staff were swift and precise—no trace of the earlier nerves.
Looks like we got a solid recruit this time.
He had a quiet feeling the operation would go smoothly. Ease the tension a little and there would be no problems.
"Infiltrate, clear, secure. Remember those three and you'll be fine. Got it?"
"Yes, sir. I understand."
"Good, good. Stay just tense enough."
"Yes, sir."
She gave a light nod to the senior returning to his seat, then set her posture.
First mission…
She clenched her fists and drew a deep breath, trying to calm the excitement racing through her.
"Huu…"
I won't make a single mistake.
Screech—!
The vehicle stopped. The squad moved at once.
"Kh…"
A ruined facility.
Aside from a few corpses of those who had resisted and been shot, everyone else had been bound and gathered under guard.
These were the people who had handled the money for an illegal operation. Dig into their backs and something would surface. Best not to kill them carelessly.
A little time passed.
"Captain! I have a report."
"What is it? Did you find the ledgers?"
"No, sir. Not the ledgers."
"Then what?"
"It's… children, sir. Looks like they were trafficking people as well."
"Hell."
Human trafficking on top of everything else. They must have had serious protection.
He ordered a few members to hold the perimeter and followed the reporting officer underground.
Shattered iron bars.
Two children who looked as if they had only just been pulled free, their complexions terrible. Both girls of similar features—sisters, most likely.
Their condition was wretched. Rags, bruises everywhere, filthy. Arms and legs thin from hunger. Vacant eyes behind tangled black hair. They had only just stopped crying; soft hiccuping sobs still caught in their throats.
A female officer was soothing them in a gentle voice.
"It's all right, kids. You don't have to worry."
Karina, is it.
Even on her first mission she had shown excellent skill. With talent like that, she would not die easily.
As he took stock of the situation, the officer beside him reported in a low voice.
"No signs of sexual assault."
A small mercy, at least. No doubt they had been saving them for a higher price—but one fewer horror was still better.
"Karina, good work. If you can, stay with the children for now. We don't have another female officer of your… well."
Children knew pretty from ugly. He felt a little sorry for the other members, but if any of them shoved their faces in close, the girls would only be more frightened.
Human trafficking had not been in the briefing; they were unprepared. No child psychologist on hand.
Karina, who understood the situation, nodded.
"Yes, sir. Understood."
She nodded again, gently stroking the hand she held, and looked down at the child.
"What's your name?"
"Karen…"
"Karen. And your little sister?"
"Airen…"
"Karen and Airen. Both pretty names."
As she rubbed the girl's hand, a freckle on the ring finger caught her eye. The younger sister's freckle was on the other hand—but in the same place, on the ring finger.
Huh. Almost like matching rings.