The morning light crept softly through the wooden shutters, nudging Kael awake. He blinked a few times, surprised at how quickly he had grown used to the bed the townsfolk had offered him. It wasn't luxurious, but compared to the cold stillness of the pod, it felt almost unreal. The warmth of the room was comforting, but his first thought wasn't about the bed, or the inn, or even himself.
It was about Lusia.
He hurried to the window, expecting to see her bounding across the street, curls catching the morning sun. But the streets below were filled with other faces instead—children in neat uniforms rushing to the schoolhouse, shopkeepers arranging baskets of fruit, townsfolk pausing to greet one another. No Lusia.
Confused, Kael slipped into his shoes and made his way toward the small shop where he had first met her. The familiar smell of herbs greeted him before the door even creaked open.
Granny looked up as if she had been expecting him. She was a small woman with a face the sun had lined but not hardened. Her hands moved slowly, with the kind of accuracy that comes from many years of doing the same small tasks. When she smiled, it reached her eyes first and then softened everything else.
"Good morning," Kael greeted politely, bowing slightly, copying the gesture he had noticed others use.
The old woman's lined face softened into a smile. "Ah… the young one. Slept well, child?"
"Yes," Kael said quickly, then hesitated before asking, "Um… where's Lusia?"
Granny paused in her stacking. Her fingers brushed against a bundle of mint before she set it down with care. "Busy, of course. She has her studies in the morning, and afterward she lends me her hands. Yesterday was the Festival of Lanterns. The schools closed, the markets slowed, and children ran free. That is why she had time to take you to the town."
Kael's eyes widened. "So… she spent her holiday with me?"
The old woman let out a quiet laugh, one that carried neither mockery nor surprise, only warmth. "That girl's heart has always been soft. She chooses where to spend her time, and yesterday it was with you."
Something flickered inside Kael. A warmth that was both strange and unfamiliar. He looked down, embarrassed by how much the thought mattered to him. "I… see."
Granny tilted her head kindly. "Do not trouble yourself with guilt. She does what she wishes. Just remember—she won't always be free to walk beside you. Learn to stand on your own too."
Kael nodded, though the reassurance lingered with him long after he left the shop.
Kael wandered the streets on his own. The town was alive in a way that fascinated him. Merchants called out, their voices rising and falling like a melody. The smell of bread drifted from a bakery, warm and sweet, making his stomach rumble.
At one stall, a kindly fruit-seller noticed his hesitant gaze. She held up a small orange, its skin glistening in the sunlight.
"You look curious," she said, smiling. "Not from around here, are you? Go on, taste it. Welcome to Origin."
Kael fumbled with the peel, juice dripping onto his fingers. He laughed awkwardly, trying to wipe it on his sleeve, but the woman handed him a cloth with a chuckle. "Don't worry, boy. Everyone makes a mess the first time."
Everywhere he went, people seemed patient with him. Curious, yes, but not unkind. It felt as though they could sense something in him—an innocence, or perhaps simply his unfamiliarity.
He noticed small details too. Strange symbols etched into doorframes, carved onto posts, and glowing faintly on the gates of the schoolhouse. Children tapped small pendants against them before entering, and the marks lit up softly before dimming again. It was orderly, deliberate, as if unseen rules guided every step.
By midday, Kael sat near a fountain at the town's center, watching. A baker knelt to hand a loaf of bread to a stray dog, who wagged its tail gratefully. Merchants worked together to haul a crate too heavy for one. Teachers herded children with patient words rather than harsh shouts.
It was different from anything he had known—though, in truth, he wasn't even sure what he had known before. But something about this place hummed with balance, as if each piece knew where it belonged.
Soon after wandering in market and taking a nap it was afternoon. Kael thought of going to the places he has been to with Lusia yesterday, and so he got ready to walk to the fountains and to the temple to make time pass quickly.
When the sun dipped low and lanterns began to glow, Kael finally spotted her.
"Kael!" Lusia's voice carried across the square. She came running up, curls bouncing, a basket of laundry balanced against her hip. Her cheeks were flushed from the day, but her smile was as bright as ever.
"There you are," she said, catching her breath. "Did you manage to survive without me?"
Kael grinned, a little sheepish. "Barely."
She laughed and plopped the basket beside the fountain before sitting down. From it, she pulled out small wrapped snacks, handing him one without asking. "Here. Payment for your bravery."
He took it gratefully. They ate together, trading small jests. She teased him for his earlier orange fiasco, mimicking his clumsy peeling with exaggerated gestures until he had to protest through laughter. He tried a poor joke in return, earning a burst of laughter that made his chest ache in a good way.
For a while, the confusion of his life faded. It was just the two of them, sharing bread and laughter under the lantern light.
Then, as their talk drifted, Lusia leaned back on her hands and spoke more casually. "You know, without an identity, you can't do half the things here. School, markets, travel… even something as simple as buying fabric. Everything is tied to it. Makes life easier, though."
Kael, mid-bite, froze briefly. The word rang in his head, heavy and unfamiliar.
"My… what?" he asked.
"Your identity," she repeated lightly, as if it were obvious. But then she leaned closer, her smile playful. "Don't tell me you've been wandering around without using yours?"
Kael blinked, cheeks warm, and gave a vague nod. He didn't want to admit his ignorance so openly.
She only chuckled and let it pass, returning to a story about her classmates. Kael listened, though the word lingered at the edge of his mind.
The following day, Kael rose earlier than usual, half-expecting to wander alone again. But Lusia surprised him, appearing at his door with her curls tied back, no basket in hand.
"Good news," she said brightly. "It's Worship Week. No school. Which means—" She poked his shoulder with a mischievous grin. "You're coming with me."
Kael tilted his head. "Coming where?"
"To the Transfer Department," she answered, as if that settled everything. "You can't keep roaming around without using your identity. Time to fix that."
She led him through winding streets until they reached a tall stone post, its surface etched with glowing veins that pulsed softly like a heartbeat. It looked ordinary in shape—like an oversized postbox—but carried an undeniable weight.
"Alright," Lusia said, gesturing to it. "Go on. Use your identity here."
Kael froze. His eyes darted between the strange structure and Lusia's expectant face.
"My… my what?" he stammered.
"Your identity," she repeated, matter-of-factly, as though nothing could be simpler.
Kael blinked. His mind scrambled, reaching for an answer that didn't exist. The weight of her words pressed against him until, unable to hold back his confusion, he blurted out—
"Identity!?"
And in that moment, as the sound echoed softly against the stone, it felt as if the world itself had paused—waiting for an answer he did not yet have.