My name is Roxy Migurdia.
Forty years old. Physically looks about fourteen...
Hmm. Somehow, that sounds suspicious no matter which way you say it.
Anyway—I'm a demon.
So despite being forty, I'm actually still in the middle of adolescence by my race's standards.
In human terms, that would be...
Fourteen.
Yeah.
At fourteen, I ran away from home and became an adventurer.
Back then, I thought I was finally escaping the nightmare of not being able to use telepathy. I thought I was stepping into a world full of hope and freedom.
That was what I believed.
But in my race, physical growth stops at fourteen. So when I became an adventurer, my appearance—and my blue hair, which looked suspiciously similar to the infamously feared Superd—brought me nothing but trouble.
Fortunately, it wasn't long before I found a party willing to accept me. At twenty, I reached B-rank as an adventurer.
I was lucky.
But good fortune never lasts.
During a mana disaster, my party leader was killed right before my eyes, and our team disbanded on the spot.
I still remember his body, broken and bloody.
But when I returned to the Adventurers' Guild to report it, they barely batted an eye. That indifference made me realize one thing—
This is what it means to be an adventurer.
I was far too naïve back then.
Later, I left the Demon Continent and set foot on Millis.
My blue hair, which glowed green under firelight, and my short stature... brought me a whole new wave of discrimination.
Still, when I reached the port town, things were better than expected. The local guild even helped me out quite a bit, which helped restore my confidence.
When I was promoted to A-rank, I was thrilled.
Finally—I thought—I'd earned some recognition for my abilities.
Sure enough, the very next day, I was offered a mission. The requesting party said they absolutely needed me.
Apparently, A-rank adventurers were still held in high regard.
The mission?
To go undercover disguised as a little girl and get close to a lolicon merchant to investigate his illegal dealings.
...This must be what passes for a "typical adventurer job."
I blew up on the spot and prepared to refuse.
But they offered a price I couldn't turn down.
Four times the normal pay.
I said yes.
The disguise went smoothly, but I had to keep changing outfits and styling my hair into childish pigtails to keep up the act.
Every time, my companions teased me relentlessly.
Come on, I was rescuing people, wasn't I?
Of course, things went south. I was eventually discovered by the slavers, knocked out, and thrown into a dungeon.
Still, that put me right among the victims. I broke the window and, with the help of my companions, we rescued the girls.
Seeing them smile...
It made it all worth it.
I took the guild's follow-up request and escorted them back to Millishion.
Even though I knew full well I'd face discrimination there.
...There were so many unexpected trials. Just meeting people meant being judged. Prejudged.
That time was... bleak.
I gradually stopped wanting to interact with anyone.
Later, by chance, I met someone from my hometown. She invited me to work at a tavern, and I managed to save up a little money again. Eventually, I resumed my journey and headed to the Asura Kingdom—
My teacher's homeland.
He had visited our village when I was young. It was he who first taught me magic—and opened my eyes to how wide the world truly was.
It was because of him that I decided to become an adventurer.
But he left without saying goodbye. I figured he probably never wanted to see me again.
Then I received a commission: go to his house in the Asura Kingdom and urge him to finish writing "A Journey Across the World."
I hesitated for a long time, but eventually accepted the job.
We talked. About the past. And I learned that his disappearance had been a misunderstanding. He had left in a hurry and asked someone from the village to pass along a message.
But—being who he was—he'd forgotten that most of my people communicate through telepathy. His Demon Language was barely intelligible, so chances were, they didn't understand a word he said.
In the end, he went back to writing, and I resumed my travels—heading to Sharia, where I studied at the University of Magic for four years.
After graduating, I left the university.
The Asura Kingdom purged monsters every winter, so there were no steady commissions. My finances soon became strained again.
It was then that I saw a listing from a remote village. A knight's household was looking for a private magic tutor—for two silver coins a month.
I stayed there for two years.
The Greyrat family was kind. Warm. They made me feel something I'd almost forgotten: the comfort of home.
There, I took on my first disciple—Rudeus.
A brilliant child. But far too mature for his age.
I taught him everything I knew during those two years.
Life with the Greyrats was peaceful. Fulfilling. If I were to call that house my second home, I don't think anyone would object.
But every meeting must one day end in parting.
When I realized I had nothing more to teach, I made the difficult decision to leave that "home."
I had to keep moving forward. To embrace a wider world. To continue honing my magic.
Even alone, it would be okay.
After all—I had already experienced the warmth of family, hadn't I?
At least, that's what I thought.
Until I met—
A boy.
He was young, but full of dignity. Tall for his age, but with an earnest, boyish look in his eyes.
We made a promise.
That we would one day go adventuring together.
So then—
How far away is that "one day"?
Roxy blinked. Through the rising steam, a pair of dusky gray eyes appeared in her mind.
Narrowed, smiling.
She "watched" the memories in her head, lips pressed together in a faint, unreadable expression. Her small body leaned against the edge of the bath.
And slowly, slowly—
Plunged beneath the water.
A soft splash echoed. As her eyelids fluttered, a ripple spread across her vision.
Bubbles slipped from her lips, drifting between strands of her blue hair as they floated like seaweed around her face.
Maybe it was the lack of oxygen—but everything felt faint and distant.
Just flashes of memories.
Glimpses.
Shadows.
Roxy slowly closed her eyes.
SPLASH.
Two hands reached into the tub and pulled her out.
She should've snapped awake, but instead she blinked dazedly at the palace maid who'd "rescued" her.
"Miss Roxy! Miss Roxy! You can't soak in scalding water with the windows closed for an hour in the middle of winter! You'll get lightheaded!"
Roxy blinked, still woozy, and finally understood why her head had been flooded with memories just now.
Ah. It was oxygen deprivation.
The maids scrambled to dry her off, wrapping her flushed little body in a large bathrobe.
The robe was so oversized that only her head stuck out.
Her damp blue hair clung to her cheeks, contrasting with the bright red of her skin. When her small feet touched the cold tiles, she finally began to feel alert again.
And in her haze, a thought floated by.
Good thing Allen wasn't here. If he'd seen that, he'd definitely call me careless again...
Not that she stopped to consider—how could Allen have seen her in the bath?
Outside, the moon hung high in the sky.
Once she'd cleared her head...
It would probably be another night spent writing letters.