Time rewinds to the day before.
The sunset blazed like fire. Everyone stood stunned, staring at the snow—clearly stained red with blood.
And then, suddenly, Zenith and Paul's expressions shifted. Without a word, they each grabbed a nearby shovel and began digging into the snow with frantic urgency. Paul's battle aura had long been exhausted—he was running on brute strength alone.
Shovelful after shovelful, the snow was flung aside. Layer by layer, the blood-soaked drifts were unearthed, each crimson patch sending a chill down the watchers' spines.
They stared in silence, their expressions darkening.
Blood always calls to mind one thing—death.
That was why their faces had turned pale just moments earlier.
But thinking more carefully…
This much blood? So thick and heavy… How many people would have to die to spill this much?
People?
Were there even people in the valley?
Yes.
Only two who might've been in danger.
But how could two people produce so much blood?
Then—
Where had all this blood come from?
And why was there so much of it?
Who had died?
And who had done the killing?
How long would it take to find the answer?
In the very next instant—fire blazed in everyone's eyes! Gripping their shovels with both hands, they dove back into the snow, digging with renewed desperation!
One scoop.
Another.
Blood with every swing!
Finally, they broke through.
And then, real blood—thick and vivid—erupted like a geyser, spraying across their faces.
Paul's eyes lit up. He readied his shovel to keep going—but just then, the chain reaction began.
Pressure imbalance.
A deeper collapse.
With a low rumble, the entire wall of black snow crumbled into nothing, leaving only a thin barrier in front of them that swiftly disintegrated.
And then—
Though they stood in the heart of a mountain, every person present heard the sound of the sea.
The tide. The waves.
A blood tide—
Sweeping toward them from the now-opened ravine!
In a single instant, thick, visceral stench flooded the air. The red tide surged, drowning their knees in a heartbeat.
No one looked at their feet.
Every eye turned toward the ravine's interior.
The last light of dusk spilled into the canyon, casting a glow across the blood-colored sea.
A long trail of red gleamed across the surface, stretching far into the valley, with no end in sight.
The sea was littered with monster corpses, floating gently on the current, bobbing with the breath of winter wind.
And there, standing amidst that sea of death—
A lone, blood-soaked figure faced them, silent in the crimson tide.
The waves lapped at his knees, radiating ripples outward from where he stood, as if the entire blood-sea pulsed to his presence.
Sunset glimmered across the red surface, light glinting like broken gold.
That silhouette—
Brilliant.
Could death itself—tangible and real—be something this beautiful?
No one spoke. No one moved.
But the falling snow had disturbed him.
The figure in the sea turned, glancing back at the people on the ridge.
The twilight rimmed his silhouette in firelight. His face was obscured in the glow.
But his voice drifted to them, that same familiar lazy tone, rippling through the waves of blood like a breeze.
Soft. Distant.
And yet—loud enough to pierce the soul.
He said:
"Next year..."
"There won't be a monster tide."
Paul stared at Allen, then broke into a radiant grin.
Zenith's shovel slipped from her hands, swallowed by the blood. She stared blankly, hearing that familiar voice, smiling at first—only for the smile to fade. Her lips trembled.
She lifted her hands to her face.
Tears streamed through her fingers, one by one, rippling down into the sea.
Lilia clutched her shoulder, both laughing and crying.
And Rudeus—he stared at Allen, muttering words only he could hear.
"Saved... They're saved. Allen... Sylphy… they're saved…"
"I'm saved."
Laws glanced at Allen's side—Sylphy floated beside him, lying atop a clearly conjured slab of ice. Sunset kissed her hair, dyeing the strands a fiery red.
She waved at them all, smiling cheerfully from the valley's mouth.
"We're fine~ Sorry for worrying you! The monsters were just wiped out, and we were figuring out a way to get out—then you all showed up~"
Her deliberate soft tone quieted the villagers, who'd almost begun to cheer. One shout might trigger another avalanche.
So everyone held their breath, leaping and wading in the sea of blood to express their joy.
But then—someone was already running through it!
Rudeus! Zenith! Paul! Lilia!
One after another, they crossed the sea of blood, charging toward Allen—and in a flash, they threw their arms around him.
Each embrace slammed into Allen like a shockwave, sending his thoughts drifting high into the air—then crashing down from the clouds.
Hugs stacked on hugs. Warm. Fiery.
Zenith's tears splashed onto Allen's face, dripping endlessly.
He stared, dazed, his throat dry. The words he'd prepared to explain the situation evaporated before they could reach his lips.
No one seemed to care whether the monsters were really all dead… whether there might be another tide next year… none of the urgent things that needed saying.
What did they care about, then?
The warmth in their embrace made the answer obvious.
That night—interrupted by the monster attack—the feelings that had been left unspoken in Allen's heart finally surged into waves.
A flood of memories poured through him:
Paul and Zenith's defeated expressions after the revenge journey.
Zenith's careful conversations with Rudeus during her pregnancy, never letting Allen feel like an outsider.
The night of the infidelity incident, when they all wept and clung to him in guilt and gratitude.
The birthday gifts, each one carefully prepared.
The breakfast dishes arranged early in the morning, the nightly goodnights before bed.
Too many memories. Too much emotion.
How could anyone count it all?
A flurry of worried voices yanked him back to the present.
His eyes moved on instinct—toward Sylphy.
She was nervously stammering, trying to explain the change in her hair color. But the moment Allen looked at her, she felt it. Even in her mother's arms, she turned to meet his gaze.
Their eyes locked.
Her white hair floated in the air, catching the sunset—burning like fire.
Allen stared at her snow-colored strands. The thoughts in his head spun wildly, stirring the strings of his heart.
After a long moment, he quietly pulled his hands free from his family's arms.
Then, he opened his arms—
And embraced them in return.
As Zenith wept harder, Allen spoke.
His voice was faint, nearly drowned by the wind.
But Sylphy heard it clearly.
No clever words. No hidden motive. No charm or manipulation.
Just two simple words—
"Thank you."
The sound dissolved into the wind, like ash and smoke.
[Only when the distance between hearts is bridged can people become family.]
[You've become one of Paul's family.]
[Childhood Phase Involvement Increased.]
[Current Phase: Childhood. Total Involvement Score: 100. Reward Granted. Locator System Activated.]
[Evaluation: If the final step is merely a single chasm to cross—then you were already walking this road. Who needs to be told what they already know?]
[Allen—this is the meaning of your transmigration.]
[This is your own Jobless Journey!!]
[Congratulations, Host. Childhood Phase: Perfect Clear.]
The sunset spilled like blood over the red sea.
But Allen—
He smelled no blood at all.
...
Night.
Because they were all soaked in blood, it took over two hours for everyone to bathe in shifts and clean up. By the time they sat down for dinner, it was nearly ten.
Paul was drunk.
The only "real man" who hadn't cried all day clung to Allen now, sobbing and sniffling like a toddler.
Allen could only stare, utterly dumbfounded.
The worst part?
No one came to rescue him. Everyone just watched with big smiles on their faces.
Even Rudeus looked on with a sort of affectionate helplessness, like he was watching a child act out.
Allen's face twitched.
What the hell!? Who's your dad here, and who's the dad of whom?!
Eventually, Allen managed to escape from Paul's tearful clutches.
How?
Because Paul wore himself out. Somewhere between the sobs and the wails, he collapsed like a pile of mush in Allen's arms—
And fell asleep.
What the hell?!
After princess-carrying Paul back to his room, Allen returned to his own under the warm gazes of Zenith and Lilia in the hallway.
The door shut behind him. Their gentle voices followed.
"You must be tired, Allen. Go to sleep, okay~?"
"You don't have to wake up early tomorrow~ Sleep soundly. I'll save you some breakfast."
"Okay~"
Their footsteps faded.
In the dark, Allen moved.
He crossed the shadows to the desk.
Lit a candle.
Opened a drawer.
Pulled out a wrinkled, crumpled piece of paper.
And held it over the flame.
The ink turned to smoke, black wisps curling into the air. Word after word, dense as flies, twisted in the fire and vanished.
The "Future Sight" burned away before his eyes, inch by inch. Its marks trembled and danced, transforming into system prompts across his vision.
[Well? How do you feel?]
By candlelight, Allen grinned wildly.
"Fuck Future Sight."
No snow fell outside the window.
Because spring—
Was coming.