As Takumi stopped right in front of her, a soft pink crept across Eina's flawless, pale cheeks.
"I didn't wait long," she said quickly—then glanced up at him again, eyes bright. "If anything, I'm surprised you made it back so fast. Didn't you rush too hard?"
A quest that far outside Orario usually wasn't something you wrapped up in a few days. For most adventurers, "I'll be back by Saturday" would've sounded like a fairy tale.
Eina had dressed up anyway, not because she expected miracles—just because she trusted him.
And somehow… he really came.
Her heart wouldn't calm down. A date with a man—an actual one—was a first for her, and every time she looked at Takumi's face, it felt like her chest tightened in the sweetest way.
Takumi took the initiative and gently clasped her hand.
"I promised you. How could I break my word?"
Eina let out a tiny, embarrassed sound, then lowered her voice like she was sharing a secret.
"Then… don't call me Miss Eina. Just call me Eina." Her fingers hesitated for a breath before slipping between his. "And I'll call you Takumi-kun…"
She interlaced their fingers—carefully, shyly—like she was afraid the moment would shatter if she moved too fast. But once she did, her lips curved on their own, unable to hide how happy she was.
Takumi's expression softened even more.
"Of course… Eina."
At that simple change, Eina felt something warm surge through her, almost like it might spill out of her chest.
They spent the next stretch of time strolling through the city—shop after shop, street after street—watching Orario rebuild itself in real time. Scaffolding, fresh timber, the clang of tools, workers shouting directions. The city had scars, but it also had motion. It was alive.
And yet, the whole date felt… strangely calm.
Eventually, Eina couldn't hold her curiosity anymore.
"It's weird," she admitted, tilting her head. "Everyone's kind of ignoring us. If you walked around like this before, people would've been screaming."
Today, no interruptions. No gawking crowds. No gods barging in. It felt like a dream date—quiet, private, just the two of them.
Takumi chuckled.
"I can use a little mental-type magic. Nothing heavy—just a light veil that nudges people's attention away. You can think of it like… our presence got turned down. They don't realize I'm me."
Eina blinked, then laughed under her breath.
"You really can do everything. You don't feel like a normal adventurer at all."
Most adventurers only had three magic slots. Exceptions existed, sure—but Takumi was basically a walking exception.
Then Eina slowed to a stop.
Her grip tightened around his fingers, and for the first time that day, she looked genuinely nervous.
"Takumi-kun…" Her voice dropped, almost trembling. "Could I… take you to meet my mother? She's sick. I—" She swallowed. "I want you to take a look at her."
The words came out with a trace of guilt, like she was afraid she was dragging him into something too personal, too soon—like she was using feelings to corner him.
Takumi didn't even hesitate.
He squeezed her hand, leaned closer, and spoke gently near her ear.
"If your mom is sick, of course I'm going. Lead the way, Eina."
His tone made it sound like the most natural thing in the world.
Eina's eyes went glossy with gratitude, and her smile returned—soft and full.
"Thank you… Takumi-kun."
She tugged him along toward her home.
Eina's mother, Aina Wisteria, was from a branch of the elven royal line—Riveria's childhood friend. With that connection, plus Eina's job at the Guild, they lived in a high-end residential district. Unlike the outer areas, this place hadn't been torn apart by Evilus's attack.
It didn't take long before Takumi was standing inside a neat, quiet room—faintly scented with clean linen and a hint of herbs.
And there, sitting at the edge of the bed, was…
A petite, doll-like elf girl.
She had long emerald hair that instantly reminded Takumi of Riveria, and bright green eyes that still held a lively sparkle despite her obvious weakness. A pale yellow dress gave her an almost youthful, springtime vibe.
"Mom," Eina said softly.
Takumi froze.
Eina calling that girl "Mom" made his brain stall for a full second. Side by side, Aina looked more like Eina's younger sister than her mother.
Aina looked up.
The moment her eyes met Takumi's, her expression blanked—just briefly—then a blush spread across her cheeks like ink soaking into paper.
No—don't do that. You look way too much like a lovestruck girl! Aina cleared her throat and forced herself into composure.
"So you're Takumi-kun… the hero who saved Orario." She rose carefully and offered an elegant elven bow. "I'm Aina Wisteria. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Takumi was already moving before she could sway, his hands steadying her as if it were instinct.
"I'm glad to meet you too… Aina-san."
Aina puffed her cheeks, pouting like she'd been personally insulted.
"-san. makes me sound old…"
Takumi stared, utterly unprepared for that level of cute.
Before he could fumble out a response, Eina stepped in with a helpless little smile.
"Takumi-kun, just call her Aina. By elven standards she's still forwarding—" She paused, then coughed, looking mildly embarrassed.
Aina nodded, dead serious.
"That's right. I only left with Riveria for a couple of decades."
Then she began recounting her past, almost proudly, as if introducing herself properly would anchor her dignity again.
She was Riveria's personal attendant and also her childhood friend. Twenty-eight years ago, Riveria had grown fed up with the suffocating life of the elven royal settlement and dragged Aina along when she ran away.
"Honestly," Aina said, smiling as if she could still feel the wind of that escape, "I was terrified back then."
She went on—meeting Loki, Riveria receiving a blessing under half-coercion, displaying magic, gaining recognition from the elven elders, traveling the world…
And then, after four years of wandering, Aina collapsed from what she called "not adapting to the air."
It was hereditary, something she'd been born with. Outside the elven settlement, her body simply… couldn't keep up.
Loki believed even a divine blessing wouldn't cure it. Worse, if Aina accepted a blessing recklessly, the illness might twist into a skill—etched permanently into her status the way Alfia's had—making it even harder to treat.
So Aina never took a blessing. She stayed behind, resting here instead.
As for Eina…
"I found her nineteen years ago," Aina said, voice gentler. "And thirteen years ago, I found my second daughter, Nina."
Both were half-elves—unwanted by elves, unwanted by humans. Abandoned for the crime of existing between worlds.
Aina's smile turned soft, fiercely protective.
"Maybe that's why they were left behind," she murmured. "But… I'm glad I found them."