"What is it, Jiza," Johan says, watching as Jiza turns toward him, about to say something.
"Fundamentally, many humans do not wish to live while constantly questioning why they exist," Jiza says halfway through his thought.
"But once they know and possess a purpose in life, their story becomes interesting—more compelling than anyone else's," Jiza continues.
"That is why—" Johan begins, but does not finish.
"That is why I observe the child named Hiro," Jiza interrupts, continuing calmly.
"It will be fascinating to witness how he conquers everything for the sake of his purpose," Jiza says.
"But is there something even more interesting than that?" Johan asks to confirm.
"Of course. It remains the same at its core—when they are blessed with something absolute, it becomes something worth waiting for, as I have said before," Jiza replies.
"Hm?" Johan murmurs.
"The truly interesting part," Jiza says halfway, "is how he chooses the ending of his story. Will he become a hero… or the opposite?"
---
Inside the carriage during the journey, Johan murmurs softly, "What could his purpose be?"
Between towering trees and village roads, the coachman speaks. "As you described the location, sir, we have arrived. This is the coastal area of Gaelvorn."
Johan rises and steps out of the carriage—a black carriage lined with gold along every frame—observing the surrounding forest.
"Is there anything else you require, sir?" the coachman asks.
Johan does not reply. He walks into the forest instead. The coachman fails to understand his intention and simply waits for his return.
Deeper among the trees, Johan continues forward without stopping. After some time, he halts upon seeing the remains of a campfire nearby.
He crouches down, touches the ash, and rubs it between his index finger and thumb, sensing that it is not old.
He stands and continues onward. The distant roar of the shoreline grows louder. White sand and clear water come into view.
Johan lifts his gaze to the sky and smiles faintly.
Then he returns to the starting point, where the coachman still waits.
"So, has anything changed, sir?" the coachman asks.
"Take me toward the mountains. No—take the path between the hills and the mountains. That is where they will pass," Johan says.
---
Upon arriving at the hills, morning turns to noon. It is the perfect and remarkable time to stand atop a hill with such a view.
Among the trees near the edge of the hill, this is where they stop. The summit has already been reached.
A campfire is lit, meat begins to roast, and the sound of lively chatter fills the air since their arrival.
Santiago holds a newspaper in his hands, his expression unchanged. There is still no new information regarding his captain.
"Are we staying here?" Santiago asks, looking toward Rose as he folds the newspaper.
"We could, actually. We cannot exactly spend the night on the mountain, can we?" Rose replies, turning the meat on the grill.
"And you, son?" Santiago asks, turning toward Hiro.
Hiro merely nods quietly.
"Very well, then."
---
After their late breakfast, they begin walking around the area in small groups.
Noon turns to afternoon. The three groups eventually return one by one to the starting point, following village paths back toward the horse-drawn carriage tied nearby.
Afternoon leans into evening. Nothing troubling occurs—only the joy of spending half a day surrounded by beautiful scenery. Soon, night arrives.
Beneath moonlight and scattered stars, the campfire is lit again.
Not a second of silence exists within the lively gathering, as one by one they begin sharing stories from their past.
Hiro feels it is almost his turn. The idea had come from Rose, who sits to his left. The turn has now reached Santiago on his right.
"Your turn, Hiro," Rose says.
He does not realize his mind has drifted, his gaze empty.
Suddenly, he notices the silence. The noise has stopped.
"Hiro?!" Rose's voice fills the stillness.
"Hm?" he murmurs, slightly startled, about to speak—
"E-eh, the grill!" Rose blurts out, realizing the smell of burning meat. The food before her is already overcooked or needs to be turned.
"Dinner is ready!" Rose rises quickly, handing out meat one by one until she reaches him. "Time to eat, everyone!"
"Hey, yours is burnt, miss. Give it to me—take mine instead," Bartra says.
"True. You can switch with me too, miss," Grizz adds.
"Do not hesitate, do not doubt, miss," Gruzz continues.
"Hey, hey, stop it! I was careless, so I will take responsibility. Come on, before it gets cold!" Rose replies, silencing the commotion.
"Are you sure, miss?" Bartra asks again.
"LOOK AT MY FACE—DON'T I LOOK SURE, HUH?!" Rose shouts.
---
Night grows late, and I feel uneasy trying to sleep, even with a blanket and the short-sleeved shirt I am wearing.
I step outside, pick up two stones small enough to fit in my hands, and strike them together until sparks fly toward the campfire. The flames begin to rise again.
I extend both hands toward the warmth and rub them slowly.
It is not very noisy, yet I hear footsteps approaching from behind.
"Hey, can't sleep, hm?" Rose asks as she walks closer.
I turn my head. She is wearing a sweater, and between her hands and waist she carries another one.
"I suppose so," I reply briefly.
"Take it. I want you to accept it without refusal and without words," she says, handing me the sweater.
I look at her for a moment, about to speak, but she moves her hand again insistently.
I accept it. "Thank you," I say softly.
"Huh? I didn't hear that, what?" Rose says, raising her voice.
"Nothing," I reply shortly.
"That's not what I heard just now, huh?!" Her voice rises even higher.
"Thank you!" I say more clearly.
"There you go. All right, I'm going to sleep. Don't stay up too late, or I'll leave anyone who wakes up late behind!" she says before stepping back toward the tent.
I put on the navy sweater. It feels incredibly soft. It is as if my body moves back into the tent on its own, drawn by the comfort. The fabric reaches up to my neck, and my shoulders feel strangely light because of it.
The next morning, it is not the sunlight that wakes me, but the noisy chatter outside and the fragrant smell of food. They have already prepared breakfast.
Then the sunlight begins to filter into the tent. I slowly open my eyes, sit up, yawn lightly, and stretch my body. After rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I step outside toward the lively gathering.
The scent of soup broth reaches me first. It reminds me of my mother's cooking. I keep walking closer, drawn in by the warmth of the aroma.