Nixon led Michael and Chris out of the forest. His steps were steady, as if he knew every twist of the trail. On the way, he told them he had no relatives. He lived alone. His parents, before passing away, had left him a small house and about two to three kathas of farmland. Nixon's eyes seemed to soften when he mentioned them, though he quickly looked away. With that small land, and by collecting various herbs from the forest—bundles often tied with rope and hung on his shoulder—he somehow managed his living.
Chris sighed, brushing off the dust from his clothes. "Ah… your life is full of struggles. But tell me, how do you spend your days like this? Why not move to the city?"
Michael immediately replied, his gaze lingering on the lush greenery around them, "Leave this beautiful place for the city? Chris, only you would think like that."
Nixon smiled lightly, almost proudly. "I could've gone, true. But I'm living just fine here. What's the point of moving to the city? Here I can earn freely, I don't need to pay for food or rent. When I'm a little older, I'll look for a good, homely girl and get married." His voice carried a quiet determination, almost as if he had dreamed about this future countless times.
Hearing this, Michael let out a weary sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. "You're right, Nixon. Beauty alone isn't enough. What matters is if she can handle a home."
Chris quickly understood, from the weight in Michael's tone, that maybe in Michael's past world his married life hadn't been a happy one.
Michael looked at Nixon with a softer expression, a rare trace of warmth in his usually calm face. "It's better to marry young. At least, when you're old, you'll get to see your grandchildren."
Chris smirked, shaking his head. "You idiot, elves live long lives. And though Nixon looks like a boy of twelve or fourteen, his real age is way beyond ours."
Michael blinked, taken aback, then turned back to Nixon. "Hey kid, how old are you, really?"
Nixon didn't know what "kid" meant, but he understood Michael was addressing him. So he answered simply, though his eyes flickered with a memory, "My mother died ten years ago. Back then, I was nineteen. Add ten more years… so, twenty-nine."
Michael was stunned. He stared for a moment, his lips parting slightly. This boy was only three or four years younger than him!
Chris then asked, leaning slightly forward, "Nixon, is there any way out of this mountain region? Or any information you can share?"
Nixon thought for a moment, his brows furrowed as he considered the risks. "From what I've heard of your story… no outsider can just enter the Grand Mountain Region of Ikidna. And even if they do, going this deep without passing through the main city is almost impossible. The best I could do for you is talk to the village chief and try to arrange something. But I'm not sure… unless you have ties with the royal elf, dwarf, or other royal families…" His tone grew serious, and the quiet rustling of leaves around them made his words even heavier.
Michael frowned, the lines on his forehead deepening. "That makes it difficult."
Chris nodded, exhaustion weighing in his voice. "Alright, let's rest first."
Following Nixon, they walked past jhum fields toward his village. On one side, tea was grown on sloping hills, the neatly planted rows shimmering under the sun. On the other side lay the jhum cultivation plots, dotted with green shoots. Along the roadside were trees that looked like banana plants—but weren't—strange mountain flora with broad leaves swaying gently in the breeze.
As they walked, Michael and Chris noticed the place seemed empty. "Nixon, isn't there anyone in the village?" they asked.
Nixon replied, "If people don't have work, they usually hang around at the market or near the river. It's early summer now." His words carried a matter-of-fact tone, as though he had explained this routine countless times before.
Michael chuckled, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Then why isn't it hot? With all these trees, the heat should be unbearable."
Nixon shook his head, his expression calm. "Even if this forest were to burn down, the weather here never gets too hot. That's just how the climate is."
By then, poor Chris had fallen asleep while walking, his steps faltering. Michael also began to feel the need for rest, his eyelids heavy.
Michael thought quietly, glancing at the simple wooden huts in the distance, The villagers here are really simple people. So helpful… so pure.
Meanwhile—
Catherine and the others hadn't been teleported, but they had ended up far away from the previous place. The uneven ground beneath their feet told them they were nowhere near familiar paths.
Nihar's condition had worsened—she was going mad worrying about Chris. Her usually composed face was pale, her fingers trembling as she clenched them into fists. At this point, she realized she truly loved him. She couldn't propose to him because of her past, but his sudden disappearance was something she couldn't accept.
Her anger was now boiling against Michael. She thought everything that happened was his fault.
Catherine muttered angrily, her eyes blazing, "Damn it! We went out for a hunt and ended up against priests! Ugh, if only I could've killed them all…"
So far, Catherine had been fuming and hadn't noticed the others properly. But now she realized—Chris, Michael, Lily, and Louis were gone.