The Meal Has Ended
The meal came to an end. Loki wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, while Salat, sitting beside him, had her head planted firmly on the table, motionless. Alex, who was clearing the dishes, glanced at the two of them and smiled.
"Was it not to your taste?"
"...I'm just a picky eater."
He couldn't bring himself to say it was bad. But claiming it was good might lead to something even more horrific tomorrow. After some vague excuses, Alex chuckled softly.
"And what about the young lady?"
"...No."
Alex looked at Salat. Still face-down on the table, she turned only her head to glare at him and muttered softly.
"I'm not a wife."
"Your sister, then?"
"Not that either."
Her tone carried clear annoyance, leaving Alex puzzled as he turned to Loki. Loki pondered for a moment. Calling her a slave might cause misunderstandings, and no good excuse came to mind.
"Just a traveling companion I met along the way. Couldn't leave her abandoned by the roadside."
"A refugee? Ah, I see. With all the wars these days... You're a kind soul. Most folks turn a blind eye to burdens they can't handle in these times."
"Only temporary."
Salat frowned at Loki's words but said nothing. Alex fetched a lantern. Night had fallen, and with three moons rising, the interior—away from the windows—was swallowed by encroaching darkness, making it hard to see.
"I'll prepare rooms. Together in one, or separate?"
Alex's question was considerate of Salat. She nodded at him and said firmly,
"Separate."
"Understood."
The room was sparse: a large bed, a small shelf, a mirror, and a potted plant. Loki scanned the surroundings and smirked with interest upon spotting a study nook.
"Books, eh?"
"Yes, I do love them so."
"What kind?"
"A bit old, but mostly theological texts, herbology references, or accounts of historically transmitted diseases across the continent."
"Mind if I read?"
"Of course not. Help yourself."
Alex permitted it with a warm smile.
In this magic-advanced continent, artifacts enchanted with light spells illuminated the night—but only in noble estates, royal palaces, or grand cathedrals. In a remote monastery like this, even oil lanterns were a blessing. Once Alex took theirs away, the room plunged into pitch blackness.
Salat pulled off her hood, which she'd worn pulled low. Dark elves could see clearly in near-total darkness, as if it were late dawn. The room came into sharp focus, but its dreary atmosphere made her shrink involuntarily.
It was spacious, with about eight beds. Dolls cluttered the shelves, and corners held neatly arranged boxes of children's toys. Moonlight filtering through the window illuminated one doll—its grin torn ear-to-ear, more chilling than cute, evoking pure dread.
...N-nothing scary. J-just... too big for one person.
Then, a black shadow flickered behind her. A sharp knock-knock echoed, sending chills down her spine.
"......?!"
She whipped around, but it was just tree branches rattling against the window in the wind.
"Wh-what? I thought..."
She backed away unwittingly. Something bumped her back. Frozen, she turned to see a massive black shadow looming over her, head bowed.
"......!"
Her ears twitched upright, body trembling. She stood rigid for three seconds, unresponsive. Then she realized it was just a robe on a hanger and forced a scoff, feigning calm.
"H-hmph! Nothing at all! Of course! As if ghosts would...?"
"...What are you doing?"
"......?!"
Ifrit had appeared, arms crossed atop the bed. Salat clutched her head and collapsed, shaking violently.
Tears welling, she glared at Ifrit.
"Wh-what?! Why do you always pop up like that?!"
"...I always appear like this."
Ifrit tilted its head, baffled by her reaction. One terrified, one nonchalant—Salat's pride stung. She shot to her feet, glaring.
"What do you want?"
"Bored. Came to check."
"Bored? Spirits aren't supposed to wander the mortal realm freely, are they?"
Ifrit shrugged at her grumpy tone.
"What do you take me for? I'm no lowly elemental. The mortal realm's my playground."
Salat crossed her arms, eyeing Ifrit—perhaps taking after it.
"So... the mighty spirit came just to scare me?"
"Not my intent... but it's fun, so why not?"
"......"
Please don't! Salat barely held back the scream.
"...He doesn't seem to threaten you. That old human's harmless too... Though he seems intrigued by you. Might protect you if you stick around."
"......"
"Don't get too close, though. Capricious types like him might discard you anytime."
"...Just temporary."
"Right. With him, humans are no threat."
"Humans were never a threat to me."
"Heh, weren't you scared of that old man?"
"......"
It referenced her first meeting with Alex. Salat clamped her mouth shut. Truth be told, she'd been terrified. She'd rarely dealt with humans up close, and when she had, her innate Charm sufficed. But before Alex, she'd frozen, cowed inexplicably. Recalling it, she cringed at her pathetic display.
Pathetic...
"So, what's your revenge plan?"
"......"
Ifrit had read her mind. Salat was speechless, unable to retort.
"Listen up. You lack the power for revenge. Hatred? Grudges? Bury them. Forget. Don't drown in the past! It'll only destroy you."
"Don't make me laugh. I'll keep going."
"You're the joke. Without him saving you, you'd be Wight fodder. Even escaping them, your end would be worse. Seduce humans, make them yours? Think that'll work? Humans aren't weak. They're vicious, sly. They'll ensnare you, turn you into a plaything no matter what."
"......"
"You won't even get a chance at revenge. Remember that."
Ifrit vanished after the warning. Salat bit her lower lip. Her clenched fist dug nails into skin, sharp pain mingling with frustrated tears.
...I know.
Deep down, she knew it was futile. Yet she couldn't stop.
Without it... what's the point of living?
She still couldn't forget that day of screams and despair. Her sole reason for clinging to life: revenge.
Ting!
Ting!
Ting!
Exhausted from crying, Salat opened her swollen eyes. She rubbed them with her hand and sat up, peering out the window. No light. Even the moonlight was veiled by falling rain. Without faint glows, even dark elf vision struggled.
Ting!
"......?"
Her silver hair cascaded as she tilted her head.
Ting!
A clear bell tolled from outside. Thunder rumbled then, grand and flashing light. Salat flinched, yanking the blanket over her head.
Terrified, she still strained to hear the persistent bell.
What sound is that?
Curiosity overrode fear. Tense-faced, she cracked the door. The long monastery corridor stretched, brick walls vanishing into darkness. Wind-whipped trees battered window glass, mimicking knocks in the eerie quiet.
Ting!
From the corridor's end. Red sunset glow began emerging there. Recognizing the bell's source, Salat froze.
A robed figure approached, sweeping hem trailing. Beaked mask like a bird's, one hand lantern, the other bell.
Ting!
Each step rang out. Salat shrank back. The beak mask turned toward her.
Huff! Huff!
Glassy eyes behind the mask fixed on her, breath ragged. Horrified, Salat couldn't even scream—she bolted straight to Loki's room.
"......?"
Only Alex, the beak-masked monk, tilted his head in confusion.
...What are you doing? Loki tilted his head at her, but Salat huddled under the blanket, pointing out the door with her other hand.
"Gh-ghost..."
"...Ghost?"
Intrigued, Loki perked up. This continent had not just magic, but undead spawned from it. His undead legions were mana constructs with ego, more like true lifeforms than traditional undead. He wondered about local variants.
Come to think, only Wights so far.
His first continental encounter: Wights. Zombie-like, but stronger, highly infectious. Yet oddly anomalous.
Less dead flesh puppet, more... alive?
No, focus. She said ghost?
"Where's this ghost?"
"In the... corridor!"
Loki closed his herbology tome and opened the door. At the corridor's end stood the beak-masked figure. Spotting Loki, it scratched its head awkwardly, then bowed in greeting. Loki cocked his head.
That's the monk. So where's the ghost?
Nothing else around. He shut the door and eyed Salat.
"...Nightmare?"
"N-no! Definitely... there..."
Salat's face crumpled. Loki's dismissal convinced her more.
It was there!
She hadn't realized it was Alex.
Loki nodded.
"Got it. Then..."
"......?"
"Sleep here."
"......!"
Salat's eyes widened at his casual offer.