The sky stretched clear over the outskirts of Seiryuu City. The gentle forest breeze swayed the treetops, carrying the murmur of leaves brushing against one another as part of a newly born routine. It was early—early enough that the air still held a hint of chill and the sunlight was not yet harsh on the eyes.
Satoru walked at the front, not looking back, parting the undergrowth with steady, unhurried steps. Behind him followed three smaller figures: Tama, Pochi, and Liza. All three carried their weapons openly—Tama and Pochi each bore a sword and shield of plain but well-kept steel, while Liza walked with a sturdy spear in her hands. These were not improvised or cheap arms. Though lacking enchantments, they were functional pieces, brought from the world of YGGDRASIL by their master. Designed for low-level users, yet durable, effective, and well-balanced.
No words passed between them. This outing had become part of their new normal, though none of the three knew whether to call it training, a test, or simply patrol.
Upon reaching a clearing covered in tall grass and loose soil, Satoru stopped. He raised his hand slightly, as if sensing something. His fingers moved faintly in a short, almost careless gesture.
"Your opponents will arrive soon."
And as if obeying that sentence, two figures emerged from the brush: two wolves, one slightly larger than the other. Both had dark fur, eyes lit with aggression, and teeth bared.
Satoru observed them with a neutral expression. He knew exactly what they were—not mere wild beasts, but creatures located through his lesser summons. And as a precaution, both were under a silent domination spell. Not to make the fight easier, but to ensure that if things went wrong, he could intervene without casualties.
"Tama, Pochi. One for you. Liza, the other."
He did not specify which was for whom. There was no need. Liza stepped forward without hesitation and faced the larger one. The other two exchanged a brief glance, swallowed hard, and stood side by side before the other.
Satoru took a few steps back, his hands behind his back, and observed in silence. He had no intention of intervening—not unless it became necessary.
At a glance, the difference in skill was obvious. Liza didn't panic. She moved with caution but also with determination. Her stance was firm, her strikes measured. When she briefly glanced toward Tama and Pochi, the wolf took the opportunity to slash her arm with a shallow cut. She clicked her tongue, stepped back, and refocused—as if promising herself it was better to finish her task before worrying about others.
Tama and Pochi, by comparison, moved more awkwardly. Not that they were bad—their reflexes were good, and their natural talent was evident—but they were not at Liza's level. Above all, they were scared. The enemy before them felt real. It growled, lunged, clawed. Unlike their training, there was no safety net—or so they believed.
Satoru watched without changing his expression. There was no disappointment in him. In truth, he didn't expect great results. This was their first time facing a real monster. Fear was normal. Clumsiness, inevitable. What mattered was to observe how they reacted.
They did not know the wolf was restrained—that Satoru could stop it at any moment—that their lives weren't truly in danger.
In the original story, one of them had fled in the face of a similar danger. It was a weakness that had to be corrected.
That was why Satoru preferred this approach: no mortal pressure, but realistic enough to push them to respond—at their own pace, little by little.
What Satoru didn't notice was the silent weight of his presence. The pressure both felt knowing he was watching them. The fear of not living up to his expectations. The unspoken thought that failure might mean abandonment.
Soon after, Liza's fight came to an end. She stepped back, spun her spear with precision, and delivered a final strike. The wolf fell. She took a deep breath, looked toward the other two—but also toward Satoru. She received a slight shake of the head from him. She was not to interfere.
Liza nodded and held her position.
Perhaps motivated by that look, Tama and Pochi redoubled their efforts. Their movements became sharper, their attacks less erratic. Finally, it was Tama who drove her sword into the wolf's head.
It was brutal. If someone from a modern world saw it, they might question the sanity of whoever had led two girls to do such a thing.
But in Death March, there was no room for that kind of sensitivity. Monsters, bandits, and death were part of daily life. Satoru didn't think he had done anything wrong. He was training them. Preparing them. Because in this world, as in any other, power is the key that lets you decide who you are.
And he, who understood that, had no intention of denying it to his followers.
Tama and Pochi were panting. Their bodies were covered in scratches and dust, but their faces showed no fear. They looked at each other and smiled sincerely, an innocent, childlike laugh escaping their lips—completely detached from the brutality of the scene. Their ears twitched, and their tails swayed with pure energy.
Liza also looked at them. She gave them a small, proud smile that faded as soon as she felt Satoru's gaze upon her. She regained her composure instantly.
The girls turned toward Satoru. Their eyes shone—a mix of expectation and fear—as if awaiting a verdict that would define their worth.
"The result is as expected," he finally said. "There are many areas you must improve, and mistakes to address. But this time, I can accept it. It was your first real battle."
He paused.
"Don't get overconfident. From now on, it won't be easier."
He shifted his gaze toward Liza, and she, as if understanding a silent signal, stepped toward the two smaller ones.
Satoru didn't notice the expressions that passed over their faces. His mind was elsewhere—wondering if he should keep using the domination spell in the future. Not for their sake, but for the efficiency of their training. He decided he would consult Hans about it.
Guiding his hand, Satoru took the necklace he was wearing —an excessively flashy one— and recited a spell with it:
"[Heavy Recover]"
A light shone on the three of them, and their wounds healed instantly. This was only a Third-Tier spell, but due to the alignment of his magic, Satoru could not use this kind of healing spell unless he employed items to compensate for it.
Once finished, he gave them a new order.
"Find the magic cores inside the wolves," he ordered without raising his voice. "Then wrap them in these."
He extended his hand and conjured two pale gray stone-like pieces of fabric.
They were [Preservation Cloths], YGGDRASIL items that prevented corpse decomposition by blocking negative energy. They were mainly used to preserve bodies meant to be revived or sold in good condition. In this case, Satoru needed them to fulfill a deal with the owner of the restaurant that accepted demi-humans.
The three responded with a short "Yes, Master!" in unison and quickly set to work.
That clear response brought him back to the present.
While Satoru stepped away to check the surroundings, the three gathered near the bodies. Tama was the first to break the silence, wearing a proud but somewhat forced smile.
"Hehe… We did it, Pochi! We won! Did you see how I did it? Slash, slash! Although… Master didn't look happy…"
Pochi, kneeling by the fallen wolf, lowered her gaze as she searched for the magic core.
"Maybe it's my fault… I froze when the wolf charged us. If Liza hadn't advised us last night, I think I would've screamed…"
"Really? I didn't notice that…"
Pochi's voice grew even softer.
"I don't want him to think I'm useless… I don't want him to leave us."
Liza approached them, her spear now secured on her back and her expression calm.
"You did well. It was your first battle, and you didn't fail."
Tama turned to her, her ears perking up with energy.
"Really? We did well? But Master didn't smile at all…"
Liza briefly glanced toward where Satoru stood, his back turned.
"He's not someone who smiles… but he saw everything. He wouldn't have said those words if he didn't think you'd made progress."
Pochi sighed and nodded timidly. Tama crouched again and resumed working on the wolf's body with renewed energy.
"Well, if Liza says so, it must be true! Come on, Pochi! Let's get that shiny core!"
While the two younger ones worked together, Liza silently watched them. There was something in their movements, in their voices, in that mix of fear and joy, that made her think.
"I still don't understand what kind of master he is… but so far, he hasn't treated us badly. Though… he seems like someone who doesn't think much about others."
The thought crossed her mind without being voiced. Then she returned to her work. Once finished, they presented Satoru with the now-wrapped wolf corpses.
Satoru nodded and spoke a few words in an unknown language before reciting a spell.
"[Dimensional Pocket]"
This magic was not from YGGDRASIL but came from the magical knowledge Satoru had obtained from the Black Demon and other mages he had killed. It had a weight and space limit, but it could store corpses perfectly well. This was something Satoru's Inventory lacked, though this magic had the drawback that time passed normally inside it.
"Let's go," Satoru said briefly as he turned away. Now that they had finished their business for the day, it was time to return to the city.
***
Since their first visit, the restaurant had become a routine stop after morning training. That morning, for the first time, Satoru brought with him the monsters they had hunted, which were received by the owner with a smile, grateful for the goods.
The inside of the place was the same as always: simple but clean. Wooden tables were partially occupied, and the smell of cooked fat and spices filled the air.
A waiter approached out of habit, without needing confirmation. The question was mere formality.
"What would you like to order today, sir?"
Until now, the answer had always been the same: "Everything." But this time, Satoru calmly raised his hand.
"Bring me the menu."
The waiter blinked in surprise but said nothing. He nodded and quickly left.
Tama and Pochi exchanged a quick glance. They weren't used to that gesture.
When the food arrived, they quickly noticed something strange. The amount was smaller—not the usual banquet. There was space on the table, gaps where before there had been stacks of assorted dishes.
Tama tilted her head, sniffing the air.
"There's… less food today," she whispered, as if afraid that saying it out loud might be dangerous.
"Maybe… because we didn't do well this time," Pochi replied, lowering her ears, her voice so faint it was barely audible.
They didn't mention specific dishes. They had never seen the menu and couldn't read, so the names were as foreign to them as their preparation. They only saw less. They felt there was less. And in their world, "less" had always meant one thing: punishment.
Liza said nothing. For her, even if it was punishment, they should eat in silence. That was how she had been raised. That was how the world worked for those who lived in chains.
As on previous occasions, she prepared to search for the dishes Tama and Pochi usually disliked—those she often ended up eating herself to avoid waste. However, this time… she didn't find them.
Instead, she found repeats of the dishes Tama and Pochi usually finished quickly. The quantity was still generous, but there was a clear difference compared to previous visits. At first glance, it looked like just another meal. But she noticed.
And she couldn't help but wonder if it was a coincidence.
"Was it intentional…?"
She didn't dare look at Satoru, who sat a few meters away from them, eyes closed, focused on his own thoughts. As always, he didn't join them at the table.
He offered no explanation. He simply gave the order and attended to his personal matters, paying no attention to any of them—like a distant, uninterested master.
The girls ate in silence, confused, their doubt stuck in their throats. Liza ate as well but couldn't stop thinking about the choice of those dishes, about the possibility that their master might not be as indifferent as he seemed.
While they ate, Satoru remained still, eyes closed, back straight. He wasn't meditating, but his mind was absorbed, immersed in silent reflection.
From the start, his intention had been clear: to build a powerful image. To be seen as someone mysterious, of immense potential and restrained will. Someone who stood on humanity's side, who rose against demons, yet unexpectedly showed a kind face toward demi-humans. That contrast had to become his trademark. That was the strategy.
And for that, he needed more than strength—he needed followers who admired him, who were blindly and absolutely loyal. Just as they were to Satou.
He had reviewed the events: Satou had earned the devotion of the same girls in just a few days. They hugged him, sought him out, followed him with joy. They slept beside him, called him "master" with genuine affection. He hadn't done much—just been kind—but the result had been clear.
In contrast, Satoru had already given them food, clothing, protection. He had accepted their existence without prejudice. He trained them. Guided them. What more was he supposed to do?
And yet, what he received in return was rigid respect, fear disguised as discipline. They didn't hug him. They didn't smile at him. They didn't act affectionately. They behaved like soldiers awaiting orders… or punishment.
It wasn't that Satoru wanted affection. He didn't feel anything particularly strong toward them. But that didn't matter. What mattered was the image. How could he appear as a charismatic leader, an admirable protector of the despised races, if his own subordinates showed no emotional bond?
He didn't understand. He didn't realize that, in this world, he already projected exactly what he needed. From the outside, he was the ideal master—just, serious, compassionate within the limits his figure allowed. The girls ate, lived, trained. They were respected.
But he could only compare himself to the original material he knew. He could only see his failure to replicate what another had achieved… without even trying.
***
"This time he asked for the menu—think something happened?" the waiter murmured while cleaning some glasses, glancing toward the back of the restaurant.
The cook barely looked up, raising an eyebrow.
"You mean that guy?"
"Yeah. He always ordered the same. Not today. Something's going to happen."
"Bah. If anything's going to happen, it's that the table will groan under all the food he orders, same as my hands," the cook said, returning to his duties. "Besides, I doubt anything's wrong. You've seen how he treats them—or have you forgotten how many masters bring slaves here? Hundreds. And most, even the kindest, would never give so much to a slave—let alone a demi-human.
If you could have a solid meal every day, you'd be in heaven as a slave."
"Seen that way, he's a very strange person."
"Of course he is. Who orders a full menu for others? Only those who like to show off, or someone who really wants to give those people the best."
"That's true… and they wear decent clothes too."
"That's right—they dress better than you."
The waiter frowned at the comment but didn't deny it. They had been watching that eccentric group for several days, and of course they had noticed how each day the girls wore different clothing from the day before.
Only someone with surplus supplies would bother to wear something different every day, especially if the previous outfit had suffered no mishap.
"You think he's a noble?"
"From here? Not a chance. But he's definitely someone important—he has that aura only someone with power can give off."
This time it was the cook's turn to frown—the first time he had seen Satoru, he had thought he was a debt collector coming to tear down his business and had almost fled the place.
The waiter nodded silently, casting another glance toward the table at the back.
"Well, if all beasts had a master like that… things would be different."
The cook let out a grunt that might have been a brief laugh.
"You bet—they'd all want to be slaves just to get that treatment."
***
After leaving the restaurant, Satoru didn't return directly to the inn. Instead, he walked through the city with the three girls following him in silence. The urban bustle accompanied them: merchants' shouts, hurried footsteps, distant voices.
Satoru wasn't sure how much it could change things, but he considered that spending time outside of combat—a walk, a shared routine, something that wasn't just orders and obedience—might bring them a little closer. It was a simple variable, but one he hadn't tried until now. Maybe simply sharing space would be enough to start closing the gap.
However, he gave no explanation, and the demi-humans didn't ask either.
They walked through side streets, crossed a couple of plazas, and passed by a more open residential area. It was then that Satoru slowed his pace, took a few coins from his inventory, and handed them to Liza.
"Buy something to eat," he said simply, nodding toward a nearby street food stand.
Liza nodded, taking the coins seriously. But noticing Tama and Pochi's barely-contained excitement at being useful, she crouched and gently handed them the money.
"You two go. Pick something for everyone."
The girls blinked in surprise but quickly smiled, accepting the coins with restrained joy.
"Thanks, Liza!"
"Pochi won't fail!"
Both trotted off toward the stand. Liza kept her eyes on them, making sure nothing happened. But she didn't neglect her master either—she had learned from the first day that he never moved without a clear purpose, and that his silence, though constant, was not empty.
That day, however… felt different.
Rather than simply quiet, he seemed distracted—not by the surroundings, but by his own thoughts.
It was then that Liza noticed him subtly turn his face toward the opposite street, and following his gaze, she saw a group of children.
They played in the middle of an empty lot, wielding wooden swords as they shouted and laughed, lost in their imaginary world of knights and monsters. Some pretended to fall wounded, others raised sticks like banners. It was chaotic, clumsy… and joyful.
Liza didn't understand what interest they could hold for her master, but she didn't look away.
Then Tama returned at a trot, holding a skewer of meat in each hand. Her hesitant smile revealed something beyond simple happiness.
"Master, here… this is for you."
Satoru opened his eyes. He was about to say no. His body didn't require food, and eating was only a formality he maintained for protocol. But… this was the first time one of them had offered him something.
He thought about it. Had the walk worked? Was this simple gesture a sign that shared space was having an effect?
He entertained the idea before discarding it. Of course it wasn't because of that. He knew they had bought something for everyone because Liza had told them to. It wasn't a spontaneous decision, much less an affectionate gesture, but one of duty.
And yet…
He looked at Tama. Her ears were lowered, her posture stiffer than usual. There was doubt in her eyes, as if she feared immediate rejection.
Satoru didn't sigh. He simply extended his hand and took the skewer carefully.
"Thank you."
Satoru resumed walking seconds later without further comment. But something had been planted in his mind.
***
That night, Satoru stood by the window of his room. The full moon shone between the clouds, suspended over Seiryuu's rooftops—cold, white, distant.
But his thoughts were not on the sky.
He silently revisited the same doubt he had carried since morning.
How could he shorten that emotional gap?
Since increasing shared time hadn't worked, he was now searching for another possibility.
And then he thought—perhaps… perhaps the children had something his subordinates had never experienced. That purposeless play. That spontaneity. Maybe the key was there.
After considering it for a moment, he turned to Hans, who was obediently waiting at his side in complete silence.
"How common is it for the children of this city to play with wooden weapons?" he asked bluntly.
Hans, already used to his master's direct manner, simply replied calmly.
"Very common. You see them in the plazas and streets almost every day. They imitate soldiers or adventurers. Some even use brooms as spears."
Satoru gave a slight nod, as if confirming a pending hypothesis.
"I see."
Hans remained silent, but this time he did not immediately withdraw. After a brief pause, he spoke carefully.
"Would you like me to acquire some of those weapons, sir?"
"No need," Satoru replied, turning his head slightly. "I already have several in my inventory—practice weapons made of wood. They're even enchanted to cause no real harm."
With that, he straightened fully and walked toward the nearby desk.
"Now we can turn to more important matters."
Since obtaining his first fragment of demonic magic during the fight against the Black Demon, Satoru had been experimenting with it in a controlled manner. Hans, for his part, handled the selection of suitable subjects: criminals, murderers, smugglers—people whose disappearance would raise no suspicion.
And to avoid drawing unnecessary attention, these targets were not limited to Seiryuu. Using the Bone Vultures and Shadow Demons as a surveillance network, Hans located and transported individuals from neighboring cities and smaller settlements, dispersing the disappearance patterns.
In a commercial city like Seiryuu, where rumors and maps were abundant, tracking criminal activity hotspots was surprisingly easy.
"Yes, my lord. I have located new candidates," Hans added in a neutral tone. "They are spread across three nearby cities. They should not pose a problem."
Satoru simply nodded. "Lead me."
***
The next morning, while the girls waited for their training routine, Satoru appeared carrying a plain backpack. He stopped in front of them and, with a calm gesture, pulled a smaller bag from inside and handed it to Liza.
"It's for you. Use it as you wish."
Liza took the bag with both hands, and though her expression remained serene, inside she wondered what kind of item her master had entrusted her with. She didn't dare open it immediately, but considering his tone, it was unlikely to be food or another simple supply.
"Should we take anything in particular into account?" she asked in a neutral voice, like a soldier awaiting orders.
"Just be responsible," Satoru replied without hesitation. "Don't hit anything—or anyone—unnecessarily."
It was a logical warning. For him, handing over something as simple as a wooden weapon required no further explanation. Common sense was enough.
With that said, he turned calmly.
"I'll be busy the rest of the day. If you need anything, there's money in the bag."
And with that, he walked away, leaving them behind.
Liza looked down at the bag. She had no idea what it contained exactly, but she trusted it must serve a purpose. Slinging it over her shoulder, she walked with the girls to an open space near the inn. When she finally opened it, she found inside several wooden weapons: swords of different shapes, a pair of shields, a short spear, even a mace.
"Is this… training?" Pochi asked hesitantly.
"Is he testing us again?" Tama added, her ears tilted.
Liza didn't answer immediately. She kept looking at the contents of the bag, recalling what had happened the day before. She wasn't sure if what she was thinking was real or not. There was something odd about all this.
"Maybe he just wants us to keep practicing," she finally said, not very convinced.
"Then let's practice! Pochi wants to do well next time!"
"Tama too—we won't fail the next hunt!"
The girls took the weapons with enthusiasm. Liza, with no other instructions to follow, also took one and began guiding them through basic movements. If that was what her master wanted, then she would comply.
He had left early because he believed that a true day off would let them relax, spend time "as a family," and settle in first. If they grew accustomed to their environment, then they could grow accustomed to him. At least that had been the plan—but watching from a distance through magic, Satoru realized he had failed again.
They hadn't understood his intention. To them, it was still an order, not a gift.
But at least… they were trying to improve for him, right?
Satoru didn't finish that thought.
While the demi-humans trained in the open area behind the inn, Satoru stayed inside the building, sitting silently by the window on the ground floor. His presence did not go unnoticed. Even without saying a word, the atmosphere around him grew heavy, intimidating. Customers avoided looking in his direction, and some even left before finishing their meals.
"I failed again," he murmured without raising his voice.
From the shadow cast at his feet, Hans's calm voice emerged without manifesting fully:
"Perhaps… another kind of gift, sir. Something symbolic, less associated with combat."
Satoru didn't respond immediately. Part of him wanted to blame Hans—it had been his suggestion. But he knew the mistake was his. Acknowledging this, Satoru sighed before considering what might make a good present. Before his mind could drift again into his memories, a voice addressed him.
It was then that Martha, the innkeeper's daughter, approached with measured steps.
"Sir…" she said cautiously, stopping at a respectful distance.
Satoru only turned his gaze slightly toward her, his expression unchanged.
"Yes?"
The young woman cleared her throat before speaking.
"Excuse me, but you're… intimidating the customers. Just a little."
Satoru turned his head at her words. Some patrons quickly lowered their gaze, as if caught stealing.
That made him sigh again.
"I'll retire to my room."
Planning to find a comfortable place to meditate, Satoru made to stand, but once again the young woman near him interrupted.
"Has something bothered you?"
Satoru stopped. He was about to deny it out of reflex, but something inside told him that a second opinion wouldn't hurt. It wasn't as if he or Hans had many to begin with.
"What can you give to a girl as a gift?" he asked directly.
Martha looked at him in surprise, but soon recalled the small demi-humans who always accompanied the man. Her expression softened in understanding.
"Well… it depends. But a common choice is cloth dolls. You can find them at the market—they're very popular. Some prefer to make them themselves."
Satoru repeated the words to himself.
Cloth dolls.
Satou hadn't used cloth dolls to get closer to the demi-humans, but he had indeed made them himself later, during one of his travels. It had been just a brief, leisurely scene, but now that the idea had surfaced…
He rose abruptly. Martha flinched at the sudden movement, but Satoru turned toward the exit.
"Thank you."
And without another word, he left with a determined step.
That night, in his room, Satoru laid several freshly-bought materials on the table: fabric, thread, buttons, small scraps of leather. He had acquired them in the market without trouble, guided by Hans's research.
And yet…
The first attempt at creating a doll was a disaster. The second, even worse. The third even came apart in the middle of the process.
Satoru frowned.
"This isn't my thing."
"Shall I try, sir?" Hans asked from the corner, where he waited in silence.
Satoru hesitated, then nodded. He had nothing to lose.
Hans approached, sat before the table, and within minutes began working. His fingers were skilled—firm yet precise—and in less than half an hour, the first doll was finished.
Satoru took it between his fingers and examined it in silence.
Light, short white hair, triangular feline ears, a small tail, simple but cozy clothes—and most surprising of all: a cheerful, childlike expression, as if captured in a moment of play.
Yes. This was Tama.
Satoru was speechless as he looked at it. He inspected it twice more in search of some flaw, but his inexperienced eyes found none.
When he looked at Hans, who remained in his usual respectful position behind him, Satoru noticed that the ninja's chin was slightly higher than usual.
"…I'll rely on you for the rest," he said without raising his voice.
"Yes, sir!" Hans replied immediately, with enthusiasm, taking the remaining materials and setting about creating a new list of dolls.
And for the first time in these last few days, Satoru felt satisfied.
***
The morning had yet to fully settle in. A thin mist lingered over the rooftops of Seiryuu City, dissolving slowly under the gentle warmth of the sun, while the streets remained drowsy, scattered with solitary footsteps and distant voices.
Satoru stood in front of the three demi-humans. Tama, Pochi, and Liza held a formal stance, already accustomed to the pattern: early-morning departures, curt orders, training, or specific errands. But today, there was no set path. Not yet.
Without a word, Satoru reached for a small white pouch he carried. He opened it calmly and took out three carefully wrapped cloth figures.
With a simple gesture, he stepped toward Pochi first and handed her one of the dolls Hans had made the night before. She blinked, confused at first, but as soon as she took it, her eyes lit up.
"It's Tama! It's a mini Tama!" she exclaimed happily.
Tama, in turn, received her own replica with a mix of surprise and joy.
"Pochi! It's Pochi! Look, it's just like you!"
Satoru then turned to Liza. In his hand was a third figure: a small yellow chick with short legs and barely shaped wings. It had no spear, no armor—just a soft, round expression.
Liza took it without knowing how to react.
"What is this…?" she murmured, puzzled.
"They're gifts," Satoru finally said in a neutral tone.
"Eh? Then it's because of how hard we worked yesterday?" Tama asked, excited.
"Y-yes! It's for that! We were good!" Pochi added, hugging her doll.
Satoru was about to correct them. His mouth opened, ready to clarify that it wasn't exactly for that reason. But before he could speak, Liza stepped closer—not with rigidity or protocol, but calmly. Her eyes were serious yet warm. She held the doll close to her face with both hands, as if it were an unexpected treasure.
"Thank you, Master," she said simply.
She wasn't smiling in a childish way, but the quiet gleam in her eyes and the subtle sway of her tail spoke volumes. It was genuine gratitude.
Liza might not have possessed divine beauty that stole breath away, but there was something special in that moment. A girl normally reserved and serious, smiling with honesty while holding her gift with care. For an instant, her image was… captivating.
Satoru remained silent.
"As long as you understand," was all he said.
He turned around.
"Today we resume training. You have time to get ready."
"Yes, Master!" all three replied in unison.
On the inn's upper floor, Martha was spying through a crack in the window, her eyes wide open.
"See?! I told you!" she whispered with a teasing tone to her mother and a couple of customers she had dragged there.
But when Satoru looked up in her direction, Martha instantly turned away.
"You! I told you spying is wrong!" she shouted shamelessly at the nearest customer, who paled immediately.
Luckily for him, Satoru said nothing more and simply walked away without giving them attention.
That day had only just begun.