Early Education is Still Ria, Haha
The carriage came to an abrupt halt just as they entered the outskirts of the city.
Thud. The vehicle jolted roughly, and the man sitting inside furrowed his brow.
"What is it?"
He flung open the carriage door at once, but the coachman gripping the reins couldn't even muster a reply.
The coachman's face was ashen white. His trembling gaze stared blankly at the road ahead, fixed on nothing at all. The man's eyes naturally followed.
There, in the middle of the road.
A little girl lay collapsed. Silver hair spilled messily across the rough dirt, and her small body convulsed on the street like she was having a seizure.
The man's face hardened.
"Did you hit this child?"
"N-no, sir! Absolutely not!" The coachman practically screamed, jumping back in panic. "I swear, no. I saw it clearly. There was nothing on the road."
He clutched the reins with shaking hands.
"No impact at all. The horses didn't even startle. And then suddenly... she just appeared there. Out of thin air."
His words trailed off incoherently.
A woman hurried out from inside the carriage.
"Check on the child first."
Ignoring the dirt smearing her skirt hems, she knelt beside the girl. The tiny body was soaked in cold sweat. Her lips were blue, her breaths shallow. Strangely, though, there were no wounds, no blood. No broken limbs twisted unnaturally. Yet the child trembled as if on the verge of death.
The woman pressed a hand to the girl's forehead and swallowed hard.
"She's burning up."
The man asked no more. How the child had suddenly appeared and collapsed in the road could wait. Right now, they needed a place to lay her down.
"Get her inside the carriage."
"Pardon?"
"Fetch the medicine chest and call Roan."
The coachman nodded hastily. Roan was the one who tended to injured workers in the merchant group. Not a formal physician, but he knew enough to reduce fevers and handle basic first aid.
The man carefully lifted the girl. She was small. Unnaturally light. Her head lolled limply in unconsciousness, silver hair cascading softly over his arm.
"Head to the merchant lodge. Call a doctor as soon as we arrive."
The coachman belatedly adjusted the reins.
"Go slow. Don't jolt her."
The coachman nodded. The carriage lurched forward again.
And so, Ria was carried off to an unfamiliar place, unaware of where she was headed.
When I opened my eyes, the first thing I felt was the cool touch on my forehead. A damp cloth soaked it.
An unfamiliar ceiling loomed above. The scent of dry wood. Bitter medicinal herbs. And the faint mustiness of an old blanket.
I blinked several times.
Where am I?
Before I could even sort my thoughts, a small, steady breathing came from beside the bed.
I turned my head slowly. There, primly seated on a chair, was a little girl. She looked a bit younger than me. Light blonde hair neatly tied back, a small, clear face with big eyes—doll-like and adorable when still.
She noticed me waking before our eyes even met, already flustered. The moment they did, she froze solid, like she'd stopped breathing.
A fresh cloth clutched in her tiny hands. She gripped it so tightly the ends crumpled in her palm.
Cute kid.
The thought made her eyes widen like a startled rabbit.
"……."
"……."
The next instant, she bolted upright.
Screech— The chair scraped back with a small noise. And she fled like a shot.
Bang! The door slammed, filling the room.
I stared blankly at the closed door.
"...What was that?"
I tried to sit up, then sank back into the pillow. My chest throbbed hotly inside, and my fingertips felt weak. Looked like I'd been out cold for a while.
At least I'm alive. Good enough.
Moments later, the door opened again. This time, a middle-aged man entered, exuding the tidy poise of someone used to dealing with people. Peeking half-hidden behind him was the girl from before, clutching her skirt tightly.
The man stopped by the bed and bowed his head quietly.
"You're awake. Thank goodness."
"...Yeah."
My voice came out hoarse and cracked. I blinked slowly.
"Where... is this?"
"The Raden Merchant Group's temporary lodge."
"Merchant... lodge?"
"Yes."
The man paused, then spoke softly again.
"First, let me apologize."
I blinked.
"For bringing you here while you were unconscious. Waking up in a strange place without a word must have been frightening."
He glanced at the cloth by the bed.
"But we couldn't leave you like that. You collapsed right in front of our carriage, and your fever was raging."
"Carriage..."
"It must look like we hit you."
His voice was heavy.
"I'm truly sorry."
Then it clicked. Ah, that's what they think.
My insides still burned and ached. Not from a carriage—it was the self-destruct aftermath.
"I'm fine."
My throat stung a little.
"Doesn't seem like I was hit... judging by my condition."
He studied me for a moment.
"Thank you for saying that."
"Still, you did collapse in front of our carriage."
He sat on the chair by the bed.
"You were out for a while, fever high. Rest properly—no straining yourself for now."
I looked at him. Didn't seem like a bad guy. A bit stiff, maybe.
"I'm Ria."
"I run a small merchant group. Everyone calls me the Raden Merchant Leader."
I nodded slightly.
He watched me a moment longer before continuing.
"Right, Ria. I'll explain everything to your parents myself. We've prepared some compensation too, so don't worry."
"Parents..."
The word came out stiff. He noticed my expression and didn't press.
"We planned to send you back to the city where you collapsed, as soon as you woke."
I stopped fiddling with the cloth on my forehead.
"...'Planned'?"
"It's not possible now."
My chest sank at the curt reply.
"Why?"
"Monsters have swarmed the Northern Forest Path in droves."
Monsters.
"It wasn't that dangerous before, but their numbers exploded suddenly. A subjugation team is moving, but the road won't clear anytime soon."
"……."
Seridia. Elishia. And Leona.
The faces I'd left behind weighed heavy in my throat, one by one. I couldn't stay gone too long. Not from anyone.
"Any other routes?"
He looked at me.
"In a hurry, are you?"
I couldn't answer. Was it urgency? Fear? I wasn't sure.
"There's a detour. Not direct—you'd have to go around."
"But I could still get through?"
He studied me again.
"I'll make arrangements."
He glanced at the cloth, adding,
"But first, recover."
I fell silent for a beat. My body still throbbed, head spinning dizzily. But knowing a way back eased my breath a little.
"...Thank you."
He nodded shortly.
"Rest well until then."
Then he glanced back.
"Seira."
The girl's shoulders at the door twitched faintly.
"Don't hide. Come in."
She stepped forward slowly.
"My daughter."
She clutched her skirt hems tight, head nearly to the floor.
"Greet the guest."
"S-Seira..."
Her voice was mosquito-thin. His brow twitched slightly.
"Head up. Speak clearly."
Seira's shoulders hunched.
"Y-yes..."
She edged forward, bumping the small bedside table.
Clink. The water glass toppled, spilling cold water onto the blanket's edge.
Color drained from Seira's face.
His sharp gaze fixed on the cup.
"Seira."
That short, stern word froze her tiny fingertips white.
I quickly tugged the wet blanket edge toward me.
"Ah, I must've bumped it moving."
His eyes snapped back to me. I answered brazenly, nonchalant.
"Body's not listening yet. Sorry."
He eyed the spill and me, then sighed shortly.
Seira stared wide-eyed. Tears brimmed.
When he wasn't looking, I gave her a tiny nod. It's okay.
Her frozen shoulders eased. A spark lit her shocked face, bit by bit.
"How old are you?"
"Around thirteen."
Exactly? I didn't know. But it fit my looks best.
"She's eleven."
He glanced at Seira, adding lightly,
"Not that big a gap."
"Now you've got a peer. Seira must be pleased."
Seira ducked her head. Her round ears flushed crimson.
I nearly chuckled at the honest reaction. So obvious.
The girl who couldn't meet my eyes before now peeked up at me. The one who froze at a single greeting before her father now watched me sparkle-eyed as I chatted with him.
"Rest more—your body's not fully recovered. Call someone outside if you need anything."
He stood.
"Seira, let the guest rest. Out."
"Y-yes..."
Seira glanced back wistfully, then pattered after her father. The door shut, leaving the room quiet.
I closed my eyes to rest.
Click. The door creaked open cautiously.
I turned. Seira peeked through the gap, fresh cloth and cup in hand.
"Back again."
Her shoulders jumped at my words.
"I-If I'm bothering... I'll go..."
"No. Come in."
She crept inside like a cat, steps silent.
"The cloth... felt lukewarm."
She approached the bed.
"Can I... change it?"
"Yeah, please."
I nodded. With exaggerated care, she lifted the old cloth. A fresh, icy one settled coolly on my forehead.
"Thanks. Feels nice."
Seira froze. Her hand trembled setting down the cup.
"...No big deal."
"Those 'no big deals' are usually the most tedious."
She ducked her head at the praise. Her pale face blushed apple-red.
Her shy look was so cute, I reached out without thinking and lightly ruffled her hair.
"Good job."
She went rigid. Eyes saucer-wide, barely breathing.
"...What's wrong?"
"N-nothing."
She backed away hastily. But didn't flee. She swapped the cloth, straightened the cup, hovered by the door—lingering.
I watched, then asked,
"Something to say?"
"N-no... um..."
She fidgeted her fingers. Her already red face burned brighter.
"Your hair..."
"Hair?"
"It's... so pretty."
She bowed her head the instant the words left.
"S-sorry. Weird thing to say."
I touched my hair then. I'd cut it short myself back at the mansion. Yet the silver strands flowed long past my shoulders again, like when I first fell into this world.
Ah. This resets too.
Come to think of it, my hair hadn't grown once since. Self-destruct leaves wounds and agony, but hair reverts? No clue what this system runs on.
Whatever. Convenient? Weird? I glanced at the ends, then tilted my head toward Seira, who stared raptly.
Her eyes still sparkled.
"Wanna touch?"
Her eyes went huge.
"R-really?"
"Yeah."
"Is it okay?"
"Why not?"
She swallowed, then approached very slowly. Her tiny fingertips brushed my hair tentatively, like fragile glass.
"Whoa."
Her eyes glittered. So earnest it made me chuckle softly.
Her hand flinched.
"Not laughing at you."
She didn't reply, but her fingers wouldn't leave my hair. Once. Twice. Again. Shy wonder mixed on her young face as she toyed with the silver strands.
"Wh-whoa. Amazing."
Hm. How long you gonna keep going?
Then—
"Seira! The leader's calling. You done sorting the herbs...?"
The door burst open. A boy my age—no, around eleven—poked his head in. Brown hair, faint freckles scattered lightly. Lively-looking kid.
"Ah."
The moment Seira saw him at the door, her shoulders twitched.
Not like the blush from my hair. This one shot to her eartips instantly.
Ah. That kind.
Eleven-year-old puppy love. Cute.
I smiled inwardly at her transparent reaction.
So I didn't notice at first.
The boy's gaze at the door wasn't on Seira.
It lingered on my silver hair.