A thin, trembling voice echoed between the trees.
"Edward… over here."
The voice was fragile—so delicate it sounded as if it belonged to a sick child.
Edward answered in a soft, childish tone:
"Lily? Where are you? I can't find you."
He pushed through the branches until he reached the source.
A little girl, no older than six, sat in the middle of a shallow flower-covered hollow.
Edward stepped down into the ditch beside her, laughing as he dropped.
"Lily, you shouldn't run off like that. What if you got lost?"
Worry trembled in his voice.
She chuckled, playful and confident.
"Don't worry, dummy. I know this garden better than the people who made it. Even if I wanted to get lost, where would I go?"
A small breeze blew across her short white hair, brushing it over her jewel-blue eyes.
A gentle voice called from behind them:
"Young master, my lady—where have you gone? Please return. The lord is looking for you."
Edward turned toward the voice—
—and suddenly a wave of heat washed over him.
He spun back, and the entire garden was engulfed in flames.
Lily stood in the center of the inferno, motionless.
Trees crackled as fire crawled up their bark.
Behind him, a crowd of people surged forward with sharpened sticks, sickles, axes, shovels—whatever they could grab.
A burning dead tree collapsed toward him.
Darkness.
Edward opened his eyes calmly, as if waking from a familiar pain.
He sat up, rubbed his face.
Fuck, he muttered in his mind.
Jim, poking at the embers, grinned.
"Nightmares again, huh? Well… now I get why you barely sleep."
He pushed aside the charred branches and tossed Edward a piece of dried meat.
"Eat up. Sun's almost up—we gotta move."
It had been a week since Edward and Jim started traveling together.
A strangely peaceful week. Too peaceful.
No monsters, no bandits, no orcs—nothing.
As if the world were saving all its misfortune to throw at them later.
The rolling green hills and farmland of Ayo, the southwestern region, stretched beautifully around them.
The weather grew colder each day; autumn was only a month away.
But the land carried scars: abandoned houses, burned villages, refugee camps scattered like ashes across the countryside.
Their horses stepped along the dry road as travelers and caravans passed them by.
Jim kept his usual cheerful smile; Edward remained cold and irritable, as always.
After a long journey, they reached a small town at the foot of the mountain.
"Stop right there. Town's closed until further notice,"
one of the gate guards said.
"And what's the reason, if I may ask?" Jim replied, serious now.
"Famine. Sickness, too. Khan's orders—no one enters."
The guard spoke politely.
Edward scoffed.
"You look well-fed to me. And we have a hunter's pass."
He flashed the bronze badge.
The guard's expression soured, but he had no choice.
People waiting in line protested, but the guards ignored them.
"Open the gate! These two are allowed in!"
Inside, the town felt unnervingly quiet.
Streets nearly empty.
They headed toward a tavern—closed.
Jim groaned. "Perfect."
Edward lowered his voice.
"Jim… this doesn't look like famine to me. And I don't see any plague victims. Does this place feel sick to you?"
Jim shook his head.
"No. No bodies, no coughing, nothing. Something's off."
They finally found an inn that would take them—at a higher price than normal.
Slaves worked inside, thin and frail, barely able to stand.
Lack of food was written across their bones.
Edward approached the counter.
"Do you have anything to eat? We'll pay fairly."
"Yes, sir. If you pay properly, I'll bring you something."
"Good. Have one of the slaves bring it—preferably a girl."
He turned and headed for the stairs.
The woman barked behind him,
"You! Useless thing! Get over here!"
Edward ignored the rest.
The room was clean enough.
The fire was out, but the air still warm.
Jim frowned.
"Why the hell did you order food? We've got enough for a month."
Edward sat casually.
"Something's wrong in this town. I'm going to find out what."
Jim scoffed.
"And you think a slave girl knows anything?"
Edward replied calmly:
"Believe it or not, slaves hear more than anyone. Their lives depend on listening. Information is their weapon… though usually a useless one."
A soft knock came at the door.