Then she asked something that sent a cold shiver down Ray's spine:
"Are you a reincarnate, little Ray?"
Ray's breath caught. For a brief second, his eyes widened and a flicker of panic crossed his face. He tried to steady himself, but the tremble in his fingers betrayed him.
Grandma watched him closely. Her eyes, sharp as ever beneath the soft wrinkles of age, softened slightly with understanding. Then, she smiled gently.
"You don't have to be afraid of being reincarnated. It doesn't change anything. I just wanted to know. Even if you didn't tell me, you've already given yourself away by coming up with so many clothing ideas—ideas no one here could dream of. Not unless they were reborn from a world far more advanced. Even genius has its limits."
Ray exhaled slowly, realizing there was no point in hiding it anymore. He gave a small nod, his voice low.
"Yes, I am reincarnated."
Grandma chuckled, the sound full of nostalgia.
"It wasn't difficult to guess. My husband was an Earthling too, you know. And the clothes you wear… those styles changed a few hundred years ago. I recognized the pattern. The way you talk about fabric, symmetry, and layering—he used to speak to me the same way when I made clothes for him. The fashion cycle turns again… and this time, through my hands once more."
Ray tilted his head curiously. "Grandma, how old are you?"
Grandma narrowed her eyes and gave him a mock scowl. "You're not supposed to ask ladies about their age. That's rude, you know." Then, her tone turned playful. "Let's just say I'm old enough to be older than a couple of your ancestors."
Ray couldn't help but laugh. It was a warm, genuine laugh that eased the tension hanging in the room. He didn't know what to say after that.
Then Grandma's tone shifted again, more serious now. "You've talked with Arisa, haven't you? And I suppose she told you about the spirit?"
Ray nodded. The flicker of mystery returned to his expression. "Yes. She said the spirit doesn't like the creatures surrounding her and told her not to speak of it to others. Told her to make up stories—ghosts, whispers, anything but the truth. But… she said the spirit likes me. That's why she shared it with me." He paused. "Anyway, Grandma, what's the story behind this village?"
The moment the question left his lips, Grandma's voice cracked like a whip.
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!" Her tone boomed louder than he'd ever heard it before.
Ray blinked, startled. "Uh… what's the story about the village?"
"BEFORE THAT!" she pressed, her voice urgent.
Ray realized what she meant. "Oh! She told me that the spirit likes me. That's why Arisa shared the secret."
Grandma's expression froze. For a brief moment, she was silent—too silent. Her eyes stared through Ray like they were trying to see something deeper. Then, slowly, a stunned look settled across her face.
She whispered more to herself than to him. "The spirit… liked you?" It was something she had never heard—not even from Arisa.
Then she straightened and looked Ray square in the eye.
"And you want to know about our village?"
Ray nodded eagerly, his curiosity bubbling to the surface.
Grandma took a deep breath, then turned her eyes toward the flickering lantern on the nearby table, its dim light casting soft shadows on the wooden walls. The room had grown quieter, as if even the night outside was listening.
"To tell you about our village, we need to go far back—back when even our ancestors first came to this continent."
Ray leaned in, attentive.
"They came from a different continent, far across the sea. They left behind a world they could never return to. One thing haunted them—the regret that none of them had the talent to see the spirits. If you cannot see them, you cannot control them. And without that, you cannot become a Spirit Tamer."
Her voice held a weight, like she was reciting something passed down over generations.
"Our bloodline… it began to fade. Each generation is weaker than the last. No one could awaken the power our ancestors once hoped to reclaim. That is—until Arisa."
Grandma's eyes glinted with fierce pride.
"We, the old ones, watch over her. You saw the villagers staring at you, didn't you? We are protective—overly so, perhaps. But Arisa must never come to harm."
She paused, her voice softening.
"Arisa's gift… is rare. Beyond rare. Most tamers either use technique, negotiation, or brute force to bond with spirits. But Arisa… she is chosen. The spirits follow her willingly. They love her."
A hush fell over the room.
"Now, about the ancestors. How did they come here? Through a long-distance teleportation formation. A one-time use. No one knows how it worked or how to replicate it. But they left us a direction—if we ever wished to return to that lost continent: go east."
She looked at Ray with a new kind of intensity.
"And why am I telling you all this?" She smiled knowingly. "Isn't it obvious? You helped the inventor Ricky Martin build the hot air balloon. You're the only one with ideas bold enough to dream of flight. And I believe… you can take us there."
Ray smiled faintly but raised an eyebrow.
"You're forgetting something big, Grandma. This village is cursed. How are you going to leave this place?"
Grandma exhaled, chuckled softly, and looked at the ceiling.
"Ah, the curse… yes. That was placed on us by our own ancestor—to protect us. To keep us hidden, safe from extinction. But we have our ways of lifting it. You need not worry about that."
Ray's voice turned serious. "When do you want to leave?"
Grandma's expression grew firm.
"When Arisa reaches the Silver Stage. That's when the preparations begin."
She hesitated before speaking again.
"You're supposed to awaken your cultivation at the academy next year, right?"
Ray nodded. "Yes, that's what my parents decided."
Grandma shook her head, clicking her tongue.
"You cannot go to the academy to awaken. Your potential would be halved there."
Ray frowned. "Then… where should I awaken?"
"Here," Grandma said without hesitation. "Arisa will awaken next year as well. With both of you here, surrounded by the spirits' love, your awakening will be something beyond even what your parents can imagine."
Ray hesitated, then asked quietly, "Can I bring my mother?"
Grandma's eyes softened again. She sighed.
"I want to say no… But I know she'll never agree to stay behind. You trust her more than anyone else. I can see that. She can come. But only her—and no one else."
Ray gave a grateful nod. "More than enough."
Grandma gave a nod in return and stood slowly, retrieving something from a carved wooden chest beside her. She handed Ray a thick scroll, its ends bound in cloth embroidered with ancient runes.
"Here. This is the spirit-taming technique passed down by our ancestor. Study it. Once you've memorized it, return it to me."
Her voice took on a somber tone.
"You still can't see the spirits, can you? That… you'll have to figure out on your own. I can't help you there."
Ray nodded, taking the scroll with reverent hands. As the evening wore on, Arisa and Freya were finally allowed to enter the room. The mood lightened, and they spent time discussing the business—new designs, fabric types, and seasonal wear. Arisa especially enjoyed trying out the games Ray had created, her laughter echoing like wind chimes through the cozy home.
But the moment didn't last long.
Ray's wristwatch buzzed urgently. His heart skipped a beat. He glanced at it, then stood up so fast his chair nearly toppled.
His father's voice came through—sharp, breathless. "Ray, your mother… she's been hurt. Come back."