Two years after the incident...
As time passed, Emberlyn's unconscious habits gradually faded. Her feet no longer led her to the kitchen each morning. She stopped buying ingredients at the market before coming home. The mysterious visits to the burned ruins after completing missions ceased. Everything that once puzzled her began to slip away as she created a new form of life.
Even the name of the man who had declared himself her husband had faded from her conscious memory, though sometimes in dreams, the syllables almost formed on her lips before disappearing with the morning light.
The only connection that remained constant was her relationship with Lucas. As time progressed, she grew more comfortable in his presence. She now considered him a friend, though nothing beyond that—despite his patient waiting and occasional wistful glances that suggested he hoped for more. Sometimes she caught herself studying his face, searching for something that might trigger recognition of their supposed closeness during those lost years, but the memories remained elusive.
She no longer actively pursued clues to her past. As the months stretched into years with no breakthrough, she had started to move on, accepting the void in her history as perhaps permanent. With her hunting team now a well-established part of her life, the loneliness that had once consumed her had diminished considerably.
***
Emberlyn stepped into the hunters' guild, her boots leaving muddy imprints on the worn wooden floor. For the first time in a long while, her presence didn't attract the attention of the crowd. Usually, heads would turn when she entered, whispers trailing in her wake—the legendary S-rank hunter known for completing missions with lethal efficiency. But today, something unusual was happening. The usual buzz of conversation had transformed into a concentrated hum as hunters clustered around the mission board, their backs to the entrance, completely oblivious to her arrival.
With measured steps, Emberlyn approached the mission submission counter, her fingers tightening around the small leather pouch she carried. The weight of the pouch felt lighter than the heaviness in her chest. Ever since Elise, Marcus, and Dren had left on their separate missions three weeks ago, she'd grown unaccustomed to the hollow echo of solitude. Having hunted with her team for nearly a year now, taking on missions alone felt strangely uncomfortable—a stark contrast to the lone wolf she had been for most of her remembered life.
Behind the counter sat Lina, a young woman with copper hair tied in a practical braid and eyes that held wisdom beyond her years. Lina looked up from her ledger, a flash of recognition crossing her face as Emberlyn placed the pouch on the counter.
"Back already?" Lina asked, untying the pouch. "That was supposed to be a three-day hunt at minimum."
Emberlyn shrugged, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. "The giant snake wasn't particularly interested in hiding."
Lina carefully emptied the contents onto the counter—pearlescent fragments of bone that caught the light in an opalescent shimmer. She examined them with expert eyes, turning each piece over with slender fingers.
"Giant snake vertebrae... and in perfect condition," Lina nodded appreciatively. "Not many hunters bring back specimens this intact. The alchemists will be pleased." She reached under the counter and produced a small leather purse that clinked with the satisfying sound of coin. "Your payment, as promised. With a bonus for the quality."
Emberlyn accepted the payment with a silent nod, securing it within an inner pocket of her leather jacket. The weight of the coins against her side should have brought satisfaction, but lately, every completed mission left her feeling strangely empty. Perhaps it was the solitude of her recent hunts that diminished the victory.
As she tucked away the payment, Emberlyn's attention drifted to the unusual commotion at the mission board. Normally organized and methodical, the hunters now resembled a swarm of desperate bees, shoving and arguing over scraps of parchment.
"What's happening over there?" Emberlyn asked, tilting her head toward the crowd. "I've never seen them this... frantic."
Lina sighed deeply, leaning forward on her elbows. Dark circles under her eyes suggested she'd been dealing with this chaos for some time.
"Rank A missions and below have become scarce," she explained, lowering her voice. "Everyone's fighting over what little remains, especially the lower-ranked ones."
Emberlyn's brow furrowed, creating a small crease between her eyes. "That's unusual. The spring season typically brings a surge in missions of all ranks with the mountain passes clearing."
"Normally, yes," Lina replied, tucking a stray strand of copper hair behind her ear. "But there's this new rank A hunter who's been finishing missions at an impossible rate. He's cleared almost all the rank B and C missions, and even tackled several rank A ones in just one week—all solo runs."
Something cold settled in Emberlyn's chest. Even at her peak efficiency, she had never managed to deplete the mission board so thoroughly.
"Who?" The question came out sharper than Emberlyn intended, betraying her carefully maintained indifference.
"Goes by the name of Ethan," Lina answered, watching Emberlyn's reaction closely. "Just promoted to rank A, but rumors say he was holding back during his assessments. The missions he's taking—even the lowest ranked ones are completed with remarkable speed and precision."
"Ethan..." The name whispered from Emberlyn's lips like a forgotten melody. Something stirred in the recesses of her mind—a shadow of recognition, a flicker of an image that vanished when she tried to grasp it.
THUD!
Her heart seemed to beat louder as the name echoed in her mind. Was this the Ethan who had claimed to be her husband? The man whose eyes had held that unwavering hope, whose declaration had haunted her thoughts for so long?
Lina leaned closer, lowering her voice further. "Between you and me, the guild masters are concerned. Nobody's ever seen him rest or return injured. It's like he knows exactly what he's facing before he even begins."
Emberlyn straightened her posture, closing off the momentary vulnerability that had crept into her expression. She wasn't one for gossip or speculation. Her focus had always been singular: complete the mission, maintain her reputation. Yet something about this information disturbed the careful equilibrium she had established.
"Thank you for the information, Lina," she said with practiced neutrality, adjusting the strap of her empty pack.
"When will your team return?" Lina asked. "Perhaps you could tackle something together once they're back?"
"In another week or so," Emberlyn replied. "But idle hands invite idle thoughts. I'll return tomorrow for whatever's available."
She turned away from the counter, moving toward the exit. Outside, the afternoon sun filtered through new spring leaves, casting dappled shadows across the cobblestone path. A gentle breeze carried the scent of pine and distant rain, and Emberlyn filled her lungs with it, trying to ground herself in the present.
"Ethan," she whispered again to the wind, testing the shape of the name on her tongue. Though she had consciously let go of her search, something about this name tugged at the edges of her consciousness, like a half-remembered dream. She couldn't recall the face of the man who had approached her that day in the square—his features had blurred with time—but the emotion his declaration had stirred remained as a phantom sensation.
For nearly a year now, she had pushed aside the questions of her past, focusing instead on building a new life with her hunting team, allowing her friendship with Lucas to develop naturally. She had accepted that some mysteries might never be solved, some memories never recovered. Yet one spoken name had unraveled her carefully constructed peace.
With one last glance at the guild hall behind her, Emberlyn set off toward her small cottage at the edge of town. Tomorrow would bring a new mission, a new challenge. And perhaps, if fortune favored her, she might cross paths with this mysterious hunter named Ethan—a name that still resonated within her despite the passing years.
As darkness fell, Emberlyn found herself standing at her kitchen window, staring out at the forest beyond. Her hands, so steady in battle, trembled slightly as she touched the windowpane.
"Two years," she murmured. "Two years since I woke without those memories. And just when I thought I'd made peace with the loss..."
The mention of Ethan's name had awakened something she had thought long buried—a curiosity about those missing years that refused to remain dormant. Whether this hunter was the same man who had claimed to be her husband or merely shared his name, she couldn't be sure. But for the first time in months, Emberlyn felt a stirring of something beyond the comfortable routine she had established.
It wasn't just curiosity—it was hope. And hope, she knew from experience, could be the most dangerous emotion of all.
***
Ethan moved through the orphanage kitchen with quick skill, his hands moving fast as he flipped, chopped, and seasoned. A dozen children sat watching, their eyes wide with wonder as he worked with the food.
"How does he do that?" whispered Aiden, watching Ethan toss vegetables in a wok with one hand while simultaneously dicing herbs with the other.
Clang! Clang!
Metal pots and pans hit together as Ethan cooked. Steam rose up around him, making him look magical in the kitchen light.
Anna sat apart from the others, tucked into the corner. Her gaze hadn't left Ethan for even a moment, tracking every flick of his wrist, every smile he offered the younger children. When he caught her eye accidentally, she quickly looked down at her hands, a flush creeping up her neck.
"And now," Ethan announced with theatrical flair, "for my final trick!" He flipped the wok with a powerful motion, sending the contents spinning through the air. *Fwoosh!* Flames leapt briefly from the stove as he caught everything perfectly back in the pan.
The children erupted in applause.
"Dinner," he declared with a bow, "is served."
The soft clink of ladle against bowls accompanied Ethan's careful portioning of the aromatic stew. His movements were practiced and precise, ensuring each child received an equal share. The dining hall was filled with the sounds of genuine appreciation as the children tasted his creation.
Ethan's eyes crinkled with satisfaction as he watched them eat. Only after ensuring everyone had been served did he pause, looking around with a slight frown.
"Where's Grey?" he asked, wiping his hands on a cloth. "Don't tell me he's skipping another meal."
Ling, his mouth half-full, bounced enthusiastically in his seat. "He's still training!" he exclaimed, barely avoiding spraying food. He swallowed hurriedly. "Ever since you beat him, he's been training like crazy! That defeat made him work harder than ever!"
Ethan chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "Defeat can indeed be the best teacher," he said, setting aside a bowl for the absent boy.
"Uh, I wouldn't say that's true for everyone," Lily muttered, looking at Anna, who kept staring at Ethan.
Ethan noticed and turned to Anna with gentle concern. "Everything okay, Anna? You've barely touched your food."
Clunk!
The girl jumped, almost knocking over her water cup. "Y-yes! Everything's fine," she stammered, her face turning red. "Thank you for the meal, Uncle Ethan. It's delicious."
Lily's jaw dropped. "Wait, you're actually thanking him properly? Last week you just grabbed your bowl and ran!"
"Someone's learning manners!" Ling said.
"I—I just meant—" Anna began, mortified.
Ethan saved her from further embarrassment with a genuine smile. "It's nice to be appreciated," he said warmly. "Maybe you all could learn something from Anna's good manners."
The children exchanged sheepish glances, and then a chorus of "Thank you for the meal, Uncle Ethan!" filled the dining hall, followed by laughter as they returned to their food.