"Why do robbers always appear in villages?" the young master said, his voice irritated. "What do they even gain from a poor place like that? And because of them, I have to travel in this weather."
"Did you say something, young master?" the coachman asked.
"Nothing," he replied. "Just speed up. How much longer will it take to reach the village?"
"Only half an hour more," the coachman said. "If the road stays clear."
At dawn, a wagon moved as fast as it could along an ice-covered path. The wheels struggled against the frozen ground, but the horses pressed on, their breath rising in white clouds.
Suddenly, the wagon slowed, not because it reached its destination.
"What happened?" the young master asked sharply. "Didn't you say it would take half an hour? Why are we stopping so early?"
"There's… there's a naked person on the road."
"What?" the young master snapped. "Are you drunk? Why would someone in their right mind roam naked in this harsh environment?"
The wagon had barely come to a full stop when the young master leaned forward and pulled aside the curtain covering the window. Cold air rushed inside.
"Look properly," he said. "Who is it?"
The knight riding beside the wagon slowed his horse and moved ahead cautiously. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword as he approached the figure standing in the middle of the frozen path.
It was a young man.
Naked.
Bare feet pressed against the ice. His body was thin, pale, and covered in old scars and half-healed wounds. He stood there without moving, as if he did not even realize how dangerous the cold was.
"It's… a man," the knight said slowly. "A young one. He's naked."
The young master frowned and stepped down from the wagon despite the cold. "Naked?" he repeated. "Is he alive?"
The knight dismounted and stepped closer. "He's standing. But something feels off."
The young master walked forward, stopping a few steps away from the figure. Now that he could see him clearly, his heart sank.
The man's eyes were open.
But they were empty.
"Aren't you freezing?" the young master asked.
There was no answer.
The naked man—Aeren—stood still. His head tilted slightly, as if he was listening to something no one else could hear.
"Hey," the young master said again, louder. "Can you hear me?"
Aeren flinched.
His body stiffened as the sound reached him. His head turned slowly toward the voice, but his eyes did not focus on anything.
"I…" Aeren said hoarsely. "Where… am I?"
The knight immediately stepped between them. "Young master, be careful. This could be a trap."
"A trap?" the young master said, surprised. "Look at him."
The knight did not lower his guard. "People do strange things to lure travelers. Especially in times like this."
The young master shook his head. "If someone wanted to harm us, why would they stand naked in this cold? Why not hide? Why not attack?"
The knight hesitated.
Aeren swayed slightly, almost losing his balance.
"I don't understand," Aeren said, his voice weak and confused. "I was… there was ice… and then voices…"
He stopped, clutching his head.
The young master took off his outer cloak without hesitation and stepped forward. The knight raised his hand.
"Young master—"
"It's fine," the young master said. "He's not acting. Look at his hands. Look at his skin."
He draped the cloak over Aeren's shoulders. The cloth trembled as it touched his body, not from cold, but from shock.
"Sit," the young master said gently. "You'll fall."
Aeren hesitated, then slowly followed the voice and lowered himself onto the edge of the wagon. His hands clutched the cloak tightly, as if afraid it would disappear.
"I can't see," Aeren whispered. "Everything is dark."
The knight's expression changed.
"Young master," he said quietly, "he may still be dangerous."
The young master nodded. "That's why you'll watch him."
He turned to the coachman. "Make space beside you. He'll ride there."
"With me?" the coachman asked nervously.
"Yes," the young master said. "If he tries anything, the knight will see it immediately."
The knight remained tense but nodded. "I'll keep my eyes on him."
Aeren said nothing.
He only held the cloak tighter around his body, listening to unfamiliar voices, unfamiliar footsteps.
The wagon started moving again.
And without realizing it, Aeren was being carried back toward the world he had been cast out from.
Aeren sat beside the coachman on the narrow seat, his body slightly hunched, his hands gripping the cloak as if it were the only real thing left in the world. The coachman was tense, sitting stiffly, careful not to touch him more than necessary.
The knight rode alongside the wagon, his sharp eyes never leaving Aeren. Every movement, every breath, every small sound was watched closely. But as time passed, his worry slowly proved to be for nothing.
Aeren did nothing. He did not attack. He didn't even speak, only sat there, confused and silent, as if his mind was still trapped somewhere far away.
The young master remained inside the wagon wondering what the situations should have been for him to wander in such condition. He was the son of the head of a subfamily, part of a much larger clan that served directly under the king. Their responsibility was military security — soldiers, patrols, supply routes, and order. He had grown up around discipline and danger
***
The screen reappeared without warning.
< A Causality Implanted >
Aeren stiffened.
"What… is that?"
The words slipped out of his mouth before he realized it.
The coachman flinched slightly and glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "Did you say something?" he asked, his voice cautious.
Aeren shook his head slowly. "No… nothing," he replied after a moment.
The coachman nodded, but his grip on the reins tightened.
The screen did not care about the exchange.
More lines appeared.
< Whenever the Host becomes the focus of human belief >< A portion of the Host's humanity undergoes divine transformation >< Each transformation grants power and implants a causality >
Aeren's breathing grew uneven.
'So every time people believe in me,' he thought, 'I lose something… and gain something I never asked for.'
The screen continued.
< Power is accumulated >< Causality is accumulated >< Neither can be refused >
His hands clenched beneath the cloak.
'So I gain strength,' he realized, 'and lose freedom.'
Another message appeared.
< Causality: Host cannot refuse a request for help >< When a human seeks aid from the Host with genuine intent >< The Host must respond >
His chest tightened.
'Help?' his mind echoed. 'How am I supposed to help anyone like this? I can not even stand proparly and why should I help someone.'
Anger rose inside him.
'No one helped me. They watched me burn. Why should I help a world that didn't help me?'
The answer came immediately.
< Causality is obligation >< Obligation overrides will >< Obligation overrides refusal >
Something heavy settled inside him.
'So even if I hate it,' he thought, 'even if I refuse… I'll still be forced to act.'
The wagon shook slightly as it crossed uneven ice.
Aeren flinched.
From inside the wagon, the young master's voice came calmly, "Are you alright?"
Aeren turned his head toward the sound. His eyes were open, but unfocused.
"I… don't know," he answered honestly.
The knight riding beside the wagon narrowed his eyes, watching him closely.
The screen faded.
After some time, wagon finally reached its destination.