Abeth looked at him quietly, her eyes holding a calm curiosity that didn't quite match the world they were walking through.
"Where are you traveling? Or are you looking for something?"
Zaraf let out a small, almost careless smile, the kind that didn't reach his thoughts.
"Oh… I'm searching for someone I lost. But I know I'll find it."
Abeth tilted her head slightly, as if trying to understand the shape of those words rather than their meaning.
"I hope you do. But if you find them… what will you do then?"
That question made him pause.
Not because it was difficult, but because it was too far ahead. His gaze drifted upward toward the pale sky filtering through distant clouds, as if the answer might be written somewhere beyond it.
"I didn't think about that," he admitted after a moment. "Maybe I'll train… or go back home."
"Home?" she asked softly, almost gently. "Where is it?"
He exhaled faintly, as though the word itself carried distance.
"Hm… it's far."
And only then, somewhere in the back of his mind, another thought surfaced—quiet, almost detached from the moment.
He couldn't use Copy Authority in his world. That much he already knew.
But…
Could he still use his element there?
Bell's voice answered inside his mind immediately, cutting through the thought like a clean blade.
"No. In the human world, there is no mana. You won't be able to use any element. You'll just be… a normal human."
Zaraf blinked once.
Not even the faintest trace of power?
Not even something residual?
"Not even you can use magic there?" he asked inwardly.
"No. Fairies cannot enter the human world. No race can."
The answer came too smoothly. Too final.
"Why?"
A brief silence followed. For once, Bell did not respond immediately, as if the system itself did not possess a satisfying answer.
"…We don't know," she admitted quietly. "But no race has ever succeeded. Even by force."
That last part lingered longer than it should have.
Even by force.
Before Zaraf could dig deeper into that unsettling detail, Abeth's voice pulled him back into the present.
"We've arrived in town."
"Oh. Right." He shook off the thought lightly, as if brushing dust off his mind. "Coming."
And just like that, the conversation dissolved.
For now.
The town was ordinary in a way that felt almost deliberate, like it was trying very hard not to stand out in a world full of impossible things. Narrow streets, wooden signs swaying gently, the smell of food drifting from small stalls and kitchens tucked between buildings. Nothing about it screamed danger, yet Zaraf had long learned that danger rarely announced itself.
They entered a small restaurant and sat near a quiet corner.
Abeth studied him again, this time with more direct curiosity.
"How do you make money?" she asked. "I never see you working. Are you from a rich family?"
Zaraf gave a light laugh, leaning back slightly as if the question amused him more than it should.
"You could say… I have my own treasure bank."
A beat of silence followed.
Then Bell's voice snapped instantly inside his head.
"Huh? Are you calling me a bank? If you say that again, I won't give you any money."
Zaraf didn't even flinch outwardly, but internally his expression flattened.
Don't do that.
"If you stop, I'll have to work," he replied mentally. "And if I work, how am I supposed to search for her fragment?"
"…Then don't call me a treasure bank."
"Okay, ma'am."
Bell went silent, though he could almost feel her irritation lingering like static in the air.
That night, they checked into a small inn.
Zaraf paused briefly at the doorway of their rooms before speaking.
"I booked two rooms. You take the right one. I'll take the left. Is that okay?"
Abeth blinked, slightly surprised, as if she hadn't expected such simple consideration in a world that often wasn't simple at all.
"Huh? Ah… okay."
A soft smile touched her lips, faint but genuine, before she disappeared into her room.
And time moved forward.
Two months passed like drifting dust caught in wind.
They traveled from town to town, crossing roads that blurred together into a continuous stretch of unfamiliar places. Sometimes they spoke. Sometimes they didn't. And sometimes silence itself became a shared language neither of them felt the need to break.
But somewhere within that quiet passage of time, Bell spoke again.
"I've checked carefully," she said inside Zaraf's mind. "Her soul fragment isn't in this world. How long are you going to stay here?"
Zaraf didn't even slow his steps.
"After I settle her somewhere safe," he replied simply.
"…If you say so."
The tone suggested she didn't fully agree, but also didn't bother arguing further.
The next day, while walking through yet another town, Abeth's voice drifted beside him.
"How long until the next town?"
"I'm not sure," Zaraf answered. "But we'll find out soon."
Her gaze lowered slightly, something subtle flickering across her expression.
Worry.
But she didn't press further.
That night, while Zaraf rested lightly, something changed.
Inside her room, Abeth slowly raised her hand.
The air around her trembled.
A small distortion formed above her palm—silent, unstable, like reality itself hesitating to acknowledge its existence. A portal opened, faint and incomplete, revealing nothing but darkness beyond.
She stared into it for a long moment.
Not frightened.
Not surprised.
Just… watching.
Then, just as quietly, she closed it.
And went to sleep.
The next morning passed like the others.
They ate. They walked. They continued forward.
Until Zaraf spoke casually, as if the question itself didn't matter too much.
"So… what kind of place do you want?"
Abeth thought for a moment, her steps slowing slightly.
"Somewhere…" she said softly, "I can feel at home."
Zaraf stopped for half a second.
Home.
The word echoed strangely inside him.
And in that exact moment—
something shifted.
Bell's voice sharpened instantly.
"Why…? Zaraf, run. Now."
No explanation.
No delay.
Just urgency.
Zaraf didn't ask questions.
He grabbed Abeth's hand and moved.
Fast.
Through streets. Past corners. Away from the town square, where the air suddenly felt heavier than it should have been. Only when distance finally built between them and the center did he stop.
Abeth looked at him, confused and slightly unsettled.
"Did something happen?"
"No," he said calmly, already steadying his expression. "I just saw some suspicious people."
She lowered her eyes.
"…Did they come for me? I'm sorry… because of me, you're in trouble."
"Don't worry," Zaraf replied gently. "We'll just go somewhere else."
She didn't respond after that.
They walked further until the town faded behind them, replaced by a quieter stretch of land where a large tree stood alone like a marker forgotten by time.
And beneath it—
a boy stood waiting.
The moment his eyes locked onto Abeth, the world seemed to hesitate.
Then—
he vanished.
Zaraf's instincts moved.
Behind them.
Bell's voice snapped sharply.
"He's behind you. Run!"
But it was already too late.
"There you are."
The voice came from behind them, calm and close.
Before Zaraf could fully turn, the boy reached for Abeth.
Zaraf moved instantly, intercepting the strike.
Impact exploded through his arm as he was thrown violently into a tree, bark cracking under the force. Air left his lungs in a sharp, broken breath.
Abeth was seized.
Zaraf forced himself upright, pain flaring through his body.
"Stay away from her!"
"Run! He's dangerous!" Bell shouted.
Zaraf ignored her.
He moved again.
Faster.
But the moment he stepped forward, the boy was already in front of him.
No movement.
No transition.
Just… there.
Those eyes were the first thing Zaraf truly registered.
Cold.
Detached.
Like something that had already decided the outcome long before the fight began.
Zaraf's body stiffened involuntarily.
Then—
the boy paused.
He stepped back slightly, narrowing his eyes as if reassessing something he hadn't expected.
"So…" the boy said slowly. "You're the 7th Creator."
The words landed like something heavy being dropped into still water.
"Don't interfere in my work."
A portal opened behind him without ceremony.
Zaraf clenched his fists and lunged—
But the space between decisions and consequences had already widened too far.
The boy vanished into the portal.
Taking Abeth with him.
For a brief moment—
her eyes met Zaraf's.
Empty.
Not pleading.
Not resisting.
Just… resigned.
And then she was gone.
Silence swallowed everything.
The forest did not move.
Zaraf stood there, breathing unevenly, staring at the place where reality had just broken open and closed again as if nothing had happened.
"Who… was he?"
Bell answered after a moment.
"His name is Rough."
A pause.
"And I think… she is a reincarnation."
Zaraf turned sharply.
"What?"
"That is the only explanation I can find," Bell continued quietly. "I sensed something strange from the beginning."
"Reincarnation…"
Her voice softened slightly.
"Reincarnations are like Creators. But they do not have physical human bodies like you."
Zaraf's chest tightened.
"What does that mean?"
"It means…" Bell hesitated.
And when she continued, her tone had changed.
"She died in the human world. And her soul was reborn into the Imaginary World, forming an artificial body… with a small portion of Creator power."
Zaraf's eyes widened.
"…Died?"
His voice cracked slightly.
And for the first time since he began walking between worlds—
he didn't immediately know what to do next.