"The flowers are in these barrels," Luciel said, gesturing toward the twelve wooden containers lined neatly across the table.
Elara's eyes darted from one to the next. They all looked identical—aged oak sealed with wax, lids fitted tight—but she could sense something precious inside.
"May I open them?" she asked, her voice tentative. Then, realizing how that sounded, she added quickly, "I'll only look for the flower with wings. I won't touch anything else."
Luciel waved a hand casually. "Go ahead."
With his current strength, he hardly needed to worry about a slender girl causing trouble. And besides, after spending time with her, he'd already guessed what she was—just a frightened, stubborn young woman trying to sound older than she was.
"Thank you," Elara said softly, bowing her head in polite gratitude.
Luciel smiled faintly. "Take your time. I won't help you search—I need to finish moving the rest of the supplies inside."
He patted her shoulder gently before turning away. Mino would be struggling to carry everything alone if he didn't lend a hand.
When Luciel stepped outside, the rabbit-eared girl was already standing beside the tricolor lizard and the Red Ghost Spider, both beasts burdened with towering stacks of cocoons. She stared at them with wide, overwhelmed eyes.
"Luciel," she said weakly, "did you… move all of Bloodbeard's house?"
Luciel gave a small laugh. "Not all of it. Maybe one-tenth."
"One-tenth?" Mino tilted her head, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "It still looks like a mountain. But even if it's only a little, it's enough to last us a long time!"
Luciel smiled. "That's the plan."
Inside the house, Elara listened to their voices drifting through the doorway as she worked. Her lips twitched in wry amusement. What a family, she thought. They emptied Bloodbeard's stronghold of everything valuable, and still think it's 'not that much.'
Luciel and Mino soon finished unloading the beasts. They sliced through the spider silk bindings, stacking the cocoons filled with dried meat in one corner, rolls of cloth in another, and various odds and ends along the walls. The remaining corner was left clear for the firepit.
By the time they were done, the hall was almost full—barely enough room left to walk around the table.
Luciel frowned, crossing his arms. "The house is getting too small," he murmured. "We'll need to build a warehouse soon."
"It's perfect," Mino said happily, clasping her hands. "It feels cozy now."
Luciel raised an eyebrow.
She gave a sheepish grin. "Well… maybe I just like seeing everything we worked for all in one place."
Her contentment made him chuckle. "You really are a little money-grubber."
Before Mino could protest, a sharp crash echoed behind them.
Kang dang!
Both turned instantly toward the sound.
"Elara?" Luciel called.
The white-haired girl stood frozen beside the table, her hands trembling above an open barrel. The lid lay on the ground at her feet. Her face had gone pale.
"Elara?" Luciel stepped closer.
She didn't look at him. Her silver-white eyes were fixed on the contents of the barrel, wide and hollow with despair. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely more than a whisper.
"Dead… Angel Wings."
Luciel frowned. "Angel Wings?" He stepped beside her and peered into the barrel.
Inside lay a cluster of withered flowers. Their stems were gray and brittle, their pale petals curled inward. Yet in the shape of each blossom, he saw it—a faint outline of wings, two delicate arcs of white.
So that was why they called it Angel Wings.
Luciel studied the dying plant, then glanced at Elara. "Is that the flower you were looking for?"
She nodded faintly. Her lips quivered as she spoke. "Angel Wings can produce a drop of dew every ten days—something called Angel's Tears. It's said to be a miraculous medicine, capable of curing countless illnesses."
Luciel's brow furrowed. "You believe in miracle cures?"
Her head snapped up. "It's real! I've heard many people speak of it."
Her silver eyes shone with tears that she stubbornly refused to let fall.
Luciel's expression softened. "So you hoped it could heal the infection," he said quietly.
Elara's voice wavered. "Maybe not cure it completely… but even if it could stop it from spreading…"
She raised a trembling hand and gripped the scarlet lines that traced her face, pressing until her nails bit into her skin. "I know it's foolish to hope. But I have to try."
The words broke on her tongue, trembling with desperation.
"There isn't much time left," she whispered. "Half a year—maybe less—and I'll become a monster. Just another ghost."
Her eyes glistened, but still she didn't cry.
Luciel listened quietly, the weight of her despair settling between them.
Elara's voice fell to a rasping whisper. "Bloodbeard found an Angel Wing seed about a year ago. I thought… maybe he planted it. Maybe he kept more. If I could find even one seed or flower, I could help myself—and the others like me."
Her hands clenched into fists. "But it's dead. Everything I hoped for—dead."
For a long moment, there was only silence.
Luciel reached out and gently took her wrist, pulling her hand away from her face. "Don't hurt yourself," he said softly. "It's not over yet. There's still half a year—and this flower may not be beyond saving."
Elara shook her head, voice flat and hopeless. "You don't understand. Angel Wings die once they wither. No one can bring them back."
Luciel smiled faintly. "Who said that?"
She blinked at him, startled by his tone.
Without answering, he reached into the barrel and laid his hand on the wilted petals.
A pulse of energy stirred deep within him, followed by a voice echoing in his mind.
> "Ding! A domesticable plant has been detected. Would you like to domesticate it?"
Luciel's lips curved slightly. Tame.
> "Ding! Level 1 life form 'Angel Wings' detected. Commencing domestication…"
"Ding! Domestication successful. Ten taming points consumed."
Luciel's eyes flickered in surprise. A level-one life form? That was higher than most plants he'd encountered.
Another message followed.
> "Ding! Inheritable plant talent detected: 'Angel's Tears.' Inherit?"
He didn't hesitate. Inherit.
> "Ding! Talent adapting… enhancing… inheritance complete."
Luciel exhaled softly, feeling the new bond settle within him. The flower stirred faintly under his palm.
Elara hadn't noticed. She stood motionless, staring into the barrel, lost in grief. "No one has ever revived a dead Angel Wing," she murmured.
Luciel withdrew his hand. "Then it's time someone did."
He lifted the barrel carefully and pressed it into her arms.
She blinked in confusion. "What are you—?"
"Look."
Elara looked down.
For a heartbeat, she couldn't breathe.
The withered stems were moving—straightening, color returning in a slow, radiant bloom. The curled petals unfurled one by one, luminous white spreading like dawn over snow. At the center of each flower, faint veins shimmered with silvery light, and two translucent wings fluttered open, releasing a soft, ethereal glow.
Elara gasped, clutching the barrel to her chest. "It's alive. It's really alive!"
Her silver eyes filled with tears as she blinked rapidly, afraid to lose the sight to illusion.
Luciel smiled. "Nothing is impossible."
She turned to him, eyes wide and shining. "It was you… you saved them."
He met her gaze steadily, but said nothing.
Her voice trembled. "Luciel… who are you?"
He chuckled softly. "Just someone who doesn't give up as easily as most."
Elara held the revived Angel Wings close, watching the gentle flutter of their wings, the faint hum that seemed to sing through the air. Hope—fragile, tentative—sparked in her chest for the first time in months.
Luciel studied her quietly, noting how the tension in her shoulders eased, how the despair that had shadowed her expression now glimmered with something new.
After a while, he asked the question that had lingered in his mind for days. "Elara… will you tell me what exactly the virtual ghost infection is?"
She froze. Her fingers tightened around the barrel.
For a long moment, she didn't answer. The fire crackled softly between them, its light flickering across her pale face.
When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet and distant. "It's not really an illness. Not in the way people think. It's… a curse."
Luciel said nothing, waiting.
Elara's eyes lowered. "They say it came from the deep ruins—born from something ancient, something not human. When you're infected, it changes you slowly. The red lines spread under your skin like veins of molten glass. At first, it just hurts. Then it whispers."
"Whispers?" Luciel repeated.
She nodded faintly. "Voices. Calling you. Tempting you. And if you listen too long… you stop being yourself."
Luciel's brow tightened.
Elara continued, voice trembling. "Everyone infected eventually turns—into something between a human and a ghost. A monster that feeds on spirit energy. That's what happened to my brother. He was only seventeen when…"
Her words broke. She bit her lip hard, trying to steady her breath.
Luciel didn't press her further. He understood enough.
After a moment, she whispered, "I thought the Angel's Tears might save me. That's why I've been searching for them all this time."
Luciel looked at the glowing flowers in her arms—each bloom shimmering with a light like frozen moonlight. "Then maybe you found them for a reason," he said quietly.
Elara glanced up, eyes wet but determined. "You think they can still produce the dew?"
Luciel smiled. "Why not find out?"
She nodded slowly, clutching the barrel tighter. For the first time, she allowed herself to believe that she might still have a future—that her story wasn't written yet.
As she stood by the firelight, the wings of the flowers stirred gently in the air, scattering motes of silver luminescence across her pale skin.
And Luciel, watching her from across the room, couldn't help but think again: Another problem girl.
But this one, at least, was beginning to believe in life again.