IF. Epilogue. Future. (1)
The seasons had changed. Time had passed since Adelaide came looking for me. I hadn't kept exact count. No need to. We lived under the same roof. We added a second bed to the room I'd been using, and every morning, Adelaide rose first to fetch water. By the time I stirred, bread was already waiting on the table—either brought by Ethan or picked up by her. I'd tear into it while staring out the window. My hair, which unraveled after half a day on my own, held fast all day long when she braided it. Laundry went the same way. With her help down by the stream, it came out noticeably cleaner. Now and then, I'd catch villagers murmuring. Ailin got herself a big sister, or she's like a knight or something. It didn't faze me. They weren't wrong.
Then one morning, Adelaide said,
"All packed and ready to go?"
"...Yeah."
I'd packed the night before. As we passed Ethan's house on the village outskirts, I said,
"I'll be gone a few days."
"Where to? Alone?"
"No. Together."
"...With her?"
"Yeah."
Ethan looked like he wanted to ask more but swallowed it back.
"Have a safe trip."
"...Yeah."
As I turned away, he added from behind,
"Be careful."
"...Of what?"
"Dunno. Just."
It was uncharacteristically vague for him. I tilted my head but kept walking toward the village entrance. Adelaide stood waiting by the wooden fence, bundles in both hands. One was mine—the bag I'd packed that morning and left with her.
"...That's my bag."
"I can carry it."
"..."
"I'm doing this because I want to."
The same gesture, but worlds apart in meaning. Doing it because she wants to. I reached for my bundle, but she sidestepped neatly.
"Give it here."
"Nope."
"...It's gotta be heavy."
"This? For me?"
I knew full well two bundles were nothing to a Swordmaster, so I shut my mouth. We left the village side by side.
Once we'd crested the hill at the edge and joined the main road, I glanced back once. Having a place to return to didn't feel half bad. No—way better than half.
"We'll be back, right?"
"...Yeah."
"Don't make that face. It's just a trip."
"...What face?"
"A wistful one."
"...No reason to be wistful."
Before, I'd only moved at night, avoiding open sightlines. I was being hunted, after all—from both sides. Couldn't let my guard down for a second. Things were different now. We traveled by day, slept in inns at night, bought bread in the mornings to share. How long had it been since I'd walked a road so openly? No hiding, no killing, no running.
From village to plains. Plains to river, heading south. That first night, we stayed at a modest roadside inn. Two rooms left, so we took separate ones. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, I suddenly felt reassured knowing Adelaide was right next door.
"Up early."
"Always wake at this hour. Habit."
"...From your knight days?"
"Yeah."
"...You're not a knight anymore."
"Habits stick. Got a long walk today—are you okay with that?"
"You think I can't keep up?"
"No, just..."
"Just what."
The next evening, we sat side by side on some nameless hill, watching the sun set. Things I'd done alone every day in the village, now shared with her.
"...Adel."
"Yeah."
"You like this stuff?"
"This stuff?"
"...Sitting like this, watching the sunset."
"No reason not to."
"...Guess so."
"You?"
"...Me too."
Even that short exchange warmed something deep inside my chest. Time flew as we walked on together. Sharing carmine fruit side by side. When my legs started to ache even a little, she'd suggest a break first. And before we knew it...
There it was, far off: the sea.
My steps faltered. Words wouldn't come.
First time in this world. Barely any memory from the old one either—I'd stayed cooped up indoors. Maybe glimpsed it once as a kid? Endless. A horizontal blue line stretching to meet the sky. A gentle breeze carried its scent, tickling my nose.
We're really here.
Adelaide stood quietly beside me, waiting. Only after a long while did I speak.
"...It's huge."
"Yeah. Immensely so. Vast."
That was all. No other words needed between us.
I blamed the blurring in my vision on the sea breeze. Easier that way.
As we descended the hill, the sea flickered in and out between buildings. Hitting the main road opened up the port city before us. We wound down the terraced alleys. The lower we went, the thicker the savory smells grew. Crowds meant brushing shoulders in narrow lanes. Carts rumbling past forced us to step aside.
First time since Istius walking right through a city's heart. Now, the two of us, side by side. Adelaide naturally took the road side, shifting outward a half-step to shield me when carts passed. Old guard habit, probably. I didn't call her on it.
Honestly... I didn't mind. Yeah, being protected felt kinda nice.
Out on the coastal boulevard, the sea appeared again. Different vibe from the hilltop view. Above all, the waves crashed close now. Right here, at the edge of the sea. I stopped, stood still, just listening.
"Feels different up close."
"Let's go down later. Feel the sand."
"Yeah."
As the sun dipped low, we finally hunted for an inn. First two: full. The third, the owner apologized,
"One room left, but just the one bed."
Adelaide answered,
"That's fine."
I nodded in agreement. We climbed the stairs to the room at the hall's end. Small, but clean. Window overlooked the harbor. And smack in the middle: one bed.
My face heated for no reason. A different kind of tension than before. We'd shared spaces elsewhere. Even the same bed, once. But right now, lying down together felt harder than expected.
"...I'll sleep on the floor tonight—"
"No need. It's big enough."
She cut me off, setting the bundles in the corner. That firmness only flustered me more.
"Hungry?"
"A bit."
"Saw a decent spot on the coast. Let's go."
"...Okay."
Inside the tavern, we sat across a wooden table and ordered grilled fish and bread. Adelaide added a bottle of wine.
"...Booze?"
"Just one glass."
I sipped the red liquid in my cup. Bitter on the tongue at first, then sweet. But soon my face burned—from throat to cheeks to ear tips.
Adelaide saw and smirked.
"Weak."
"...Not."
"Didn't even finish half."
"Never been much for this stuff...?"
I had no clue. Never enjoyed drinking anyway. She poured her own glass, took a slow sip, narrowed her eyes.
"Better than I thought."
"Dunno."
"Drink more, you'll get it."
"...Feels like I'll drop if I do."
"That's why I said half."
Watching her neatly debone the fish and stack the bones made me think: She has this tidy habit. I glanced around. Bustling chaos. At a table by the door, a young couple laughed facing each other. Did we look like that? Two travelers?
The thought scorched my ears. I pushed my empty plate aside; she refilled her glass. Just hers.
"...You like booze?"
"Eh. Not especially, but sometimes."
"Sometimes?"
"Nights like this."
Nights like this. Seeing the sea, walking, sitting side by side for dinner. So it was special for her too.
Strolling the coast, the wind tossed my silver hair.
"Adel."
"Yeah."
I started to speak, then paused. Moonlight danced on the water, fragments shattering on the waves. And in that light, the face beside me.
"...Pretty."
Only after saying it did I wonder what I meant. The sea? Or the person next to me?
...Probably both.
Adelaide turned. Paused a beat.
"...Out of nowhere?"
"Just."
"The sea?"
"...Yeah. The sea."
Not wrong. I caught something flicker at the corner of her mouth but couldn't make it out in the dark. We sat in silence for a long stretch, just the waves.
"Adel."
"Yeah."
"Beach tomorrow."
"Yeah. Barefoot in the sand."
"Barefoot."
She stood first, hand extended.
"Heading back. Night breeze is cold."
"...Not cold."
"Liar."
I took her hand. Could've let go rising, but didn't want to. Kept holding as we walked. She didn't pull away—I took it as permission.
Stepping into the inn room felt like coming home. The good kind. One lantern lit the space. One bed, two people. Sitting on the edge dipped it slightly. My hand clutched something on the blanket. Body trembling for some reason—maybe hiding that.
Far off, the waves crashed on.