"…This is a nightmare."
The words slip out unbidden. If only it were a dream—something I could wake from, a mistake I could undo. But it's no dream. The proof stares back at me from the full-length mirror: my reality.
My face, etched with world-ending exhaustion. Bedhead-tangled hair, shabby sleepwear, and dark circles under my eyes. In over five hundred years, this is undeniably my worst morning.
(How did it come to this…!? It's all that damn hero's fault…!)
My groggy mind recalls last night's ordeal. Goaded by Himmel, I ended up reading through his entire stack of grimoires. That alone would've been bad enough, but the real problem was him. He babbled nonstop beside me—where he got each grimoire, what they do, an endless parade of useless trivia. It was harassment, plain and simple. Eventually, he must've sensed my rising temper and went to bed, leaving me alone. I could've stopped then, but it felt like admitting defeat. Who knew what he'd say next? If he ordered me to keep going, it'd be even worse. So, I wrestled with those grimoires until dawn.
(He's… not here. Good. Seeing that face first thing would make me sick…)
A glance around confirms Himmel's absence. He must've woken early and left. A stroke of luck. For a moment, I entertain fleeing, but I dismiss the thought. Azeliyuze's bindings make it impossible—leaving the village is likely beyond my reach, though I haven't tested it. That means Himmel's still nearby. I'm a beast on an invisible leash, too pathetic to even be a proper pet. Shoving that reality aside, I head to the washbasin to get ready. I wash my face, tame my hair, and slip into clothes—a human disguise, no different from my usual act to deceive them. Except now, I'm not even allowed to deceive.
(Is this… breakfast?)
Finished with my routine, I notice food on the table: fruit and a glass of water. Given the sunlight streaming through the window, it might be lunch, but whatever. I grab a piece of fruit and bite into it. Not bad, but not delicious either—just something to chew and fill my stomach. Compared to my true prey—humans—it's utterly unsatisfying. My demonic instincts crave more, but eating humans is forbidden. We don't need human flesh to survive; we won't starve without it. But what happens if I go too long without it? Even I don't know. I'm not hungry for this, but I have no choice. I eat in silence until—
"Good morning, Aura! Finally awake, huh?"
The one person guaranteed to ruin my appetite appears. It's infuriating—almost like he timed it.
"…Thanks to someone, I slept great," I retort, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Even if it's already noon."
"No worries!" he says, brushing off my jab. "Thanks to Frieren, starting the day at noon was par for the course."
He doesn't even register my sarcasm, yet he manages to needle me. He's clearly decided mentioning Frieren will rile me up after yesterday. Infuriating. Why should I be compared to that elf? How did their journey even function? I want to snap back but focus on finishing my meal instead.
"? Done already?" he asks. "Didn't like it?"
"No," I say curtly. "My appetite just vanished."
"Hm… maybe you prefer meat? Got any favorites?"
"…None. It's edible, so don't worry about it."
He misreads why I stopped, muttering to himself as he drifts into his own world. I nearly blurt out human children as my favorite, but I bite my tongue. Even with this hero, careless words are risky. Better to stay cautious, late as it is.
Then I notice his outfit—different from yesterday. It's such a trivial detail I almost missed it.
"Finally noticed, huh?" he grins, striking a pose. "Pretty handsome in this getup, right?"
"Sure," I deadpan, clearing away my breakfast. "Check the mirror. I'm sure it'll show something fascinating."
I ignore his theatrics. Waking up to this is torture. It's trivial, but if I don't engage, he'll never stop, so I grudgingly play along.
"So… what's with the ridiculous outfit?"
I take another look. Gone are his usual clothes, replaced by a villager's simple attire. No Hero's Sword. Most glaring is the straw hat perched on his head—utterly ill-suited.
"It's not ridiculous," he insists. "I told you yesterday—work! This is for that. Come on, let's go!"
He urges me along, heedless of my opinion. I have no choice but to follow, dragged out of the room like a dog on a leash, clueless about our destination or purpose.
"It looks like everyone's already gathered."
Before I know it, I'm pulled from the inn to the village outskirts. A sprawling, overgrown wasteland stretches before us, though traces of human cultivation are visible. Villagers surround it—not just a few, but men and women, young and old, practically the entire village.
"What's this?" I ask.
"Can't you tell? Farmwork," Himmel says. "The whole village is pitching in to clear a new field."
"Hm…"
He's holding a farming tool now—when did he grab that? It suits him better than his hero gear, honestly. As I muse—
"Thank you for coming, Hero!" an elderly man shuffles over, addressing Himmel. "We're grateful, but are you sure? Your presence in our village is already an honor."
"Of course," Himmel replies. "Monsters and bandits have been trouble around here lately. Since you're letting us stay, it's only fair we help out."
Their exchange is irrelevant to me, utterly uninteresting. Wait—I recognize this old man. The village chief, right? Humans are hard to distinguish, like animals to them. Normally, I wouldn't bother remembering prey that's gone in a bite, so I don't care.
"That's…?" the chief asks, glancing at me.
"Oh, doesn't she look different?" Himmel says. "I'm having Aura help with the work. That's alright, isn't it?"
"Of course, if you say so, Hero. I'll inform the others."
They whisper conspiratorially. What's he plotting now? But I'm powerless to act. Then—
"Did you sleep well last night?" the chief asks me.
"…What?"
I'm baffled. This man was enthralled by me yesterday, nearly killed, yet he's chatting like it's nothing. Does he have no sense of self-preservation? Even as a predator, his stupidity worries me.
"He's showing concern," Himmel whispers, his tone commanding. "Answer properly."
I bristle but comply. No choice.
"…Sadly, I barely slept," I say, smirking. "Someone kept me up."
"Aura, what're you—!?" Himmel sputters.
"…Hero?" the chief asks, confused.
It's the perfect jab—truthful, as demons shouldn't stoop to lies here. Himmel's flustered reaction is deliciously satisfying.
But then I notice the villagers' stares—not like the chief's or Himmel's, but filled with suspicion and disgust.
"Look at those horns… She's really a demon."
"What's the chief thinking? And the Hero, letting a demon into our village?"
I hear their whispers, whether they know it or not. Relief washes over me. So the chief's the odd one out. This is the true human-demon dynamic: hunter and hunted, predator and prey. If I were at full strength, I'd strangle and devour them all. But that's impossible now. Infuriating.
"Aura…"
Himmel's back, his expression wary. I let my guard down—my attitude must've shown. Before I can cover it up—
"Hey, it's that lady!" A straw-hatted boy runs up. I can't forget him—one of the foolish humans who doesn't grasp I'm a demon, like the chief.
"Yeah," I say. "You're here for this 'work' too?"
"Not 'you'—I'm Stroh!" he chirps. "You made up with the Hero, right? That's great!"
"Made up…?"
His words make no sense. Not the phrase itself, but why it applies to me and Himmel. Is this kid even alive with a brain like that?
"Oh, yeah," Himmel cuts in. "Me and the lady made up and became friends. She promised not to do bad things anymore. She's helping with the farmwork today!"
"What're you—"
"Really!?" Stroh interrupts, waving as he darts off to the other villagers. "Everyone said I shouldn't be friends with her, but if the Hero says it's okay, it's fine, right? Let's do our best!"
His carefree energy leaves me stunned. What's he so happy about?
"…Fine," I sigh, turning to Himmel. "I just need to do this farmwork, right? Hand me the tools."
I give up. Arguing's a waste of time. Better to get it over with. But—
"Tools? You don't need those," Himmel says, looking at me like I'm the crazy one. "You're a mage."
"What? Are you mocking me again?"
"No way! Magic, Aura, magic. Why do you think I gave you those grimoires? To use them for farmwork, obviously."
"—What?"
I'm speechless, floored by my own wasted effort and his sheer audacity.
"The Spell to Uproot Weeds and The Spell to Till Soil," he says. "They were in the grimoires, right? Use those, and you're set."
It clicks. That's what he wanted. But who'd think to use magic for farmwork? No demon would. Maybe humans, but still. It's degrading to sacred magic, but I can wrap my head around it. What I can't grasp—
"Then why did I need to learn all those spells!?"
Why did I stay up all night mastering that mountain of grimoires? What was the point?
"…"
"…"
Silence. Himmel's eyes widen, as if he's just realized something. No doubt—he didn't think this through.
"Alright, let's get started!" he declares, shouldering his tools and heading off, pretending nothing happened.
I'm left behind, speechless.
(You'll pay for this.)
I swear to settle this grudge someday.
(Finally done…)
It's nearly evening. I let out a heavy sigh, rubbing my shoulders. The once-wild field is now a neatly tilled plot, free of weeds. I'm not sure if it's right, but the villagers' reactions suggest it is.
It was a whirlwind. I thought magic would make it quick, but I was wrong.
Folk magic's trickiness was the culprit.
Magic relies on imagery. Mana and skill matter, but without a clear image, it's unusable. My tasks were weeding and tilling—simple enough, except I couldn't distinguish weeds from crops, uprooting everything. My magic gouged holes in the field, too. Himmel teased me relentlessly. Stroh, that straw-hatted kid, taught me weed identification and tilling techniques, but Himmel turned it into a competition. Who's the child here? His work was terrifyingly fast, leaving the villagers in the dust. In the end, he and I did most of the work.
"You're pretty good!" he says, nodding approvingly. "You almost outdid me there. A tie, maybe?"
"Do whatever you want," I mutter, too drained to care.
Reading grimoires all night would've been easier. I just want to rest. Then—
"Um…"
"Hm?"
A girl's voice, hesitant. I look to see the chief and a young girl peeking from behind him, about Stroh's age. I'd felt her gaze during the work but ignored it, assuming she was harmless. Maybe I was wrong.
"Here…!" she says, nervously holding something out.
"…What's that?"
A flower. A plain white flower, like ones I saw in the field. Why's she giving it to me? To plant? I stare, unable to grasp her intent.
"She's giving it to you, Aura," Himmel says, grinning. "A thank-you for helping, right?"
The girl nods shyly. I'm even more confused. Why thank me? I only worked because Himmel ordered me. This kid has nothing to do with it. Without answers, I take the flower as instructed—a small, white bloom fitting in my palm.
"You say 'thank you' in times like this," Himmel explains.
"Thank you…?"
"It's a word of gratitude."
Gratitude. Thank you. Words I've never used. I understand the concept, but why here? Why must I thank her for an unasked gift? It makes no sense.
The girl hides behind the chief again, maybe embarrassed, as Himmel notes. I don't care. I'm left with questions. What's the point of this flower?
"Thank you, Hero," the chief says. "On behalf of the village, we're truly grateful for today."
"No problem," Himmel replies. "Let me know if you need help again."
Their exchange is another mystery—neither commands the other. Is that gratitude? Or something else? I'll never understand human emotions as a demon.
"Alright, let's head back…" Himmel starts.
Then I remember—
A field of white flowers blooms in an instant.
"—"
I gasp, or maybe I forget to breathe. The flowers are breathtaking. Ordinary, common blooms, yet their petals shimmer in the sunset's glow. Their sheer number amplifies their beauty. My magic, used for the first time, must've been poorly controlled, creating a flower field that engulfs the village.
"—Beautiful," I whisper.
Two memories surface. One, from my childhood, lost in a forest, shown a flower field by a cherished mage. The other, a field seen with my companions, shown by that same mage.
She's not here now. Who knows where she is, still collecting magic, no doubt.
I glance at the mage beside me—not her, but Aura, staring at the field with bored indifference. She probably tried the spell on a whim, with the flower in hand. She must be disappointed.
The Spell to Bloom a Flower Field.
A grimoire I collected to give her someday, knowing she'd already mastered it but unable to let it go.
To Aura, it's meaningless. But to me, it's the spell that made me see magic's beauty—the spell that led me to her, Frieren. So—
"Thank you, Aura," I say. "This is my favorite spell."
I express my gratitude, hoping to convey even a fraction of what it means to me, though it's nothing to her.
"What a weirdo, liking a spell like this," she mutters, exasperated.
No matter. There'll be more chances. Someday, we'll laugh about how trivial this moment seemed.
This was the end—and the beginning—of Aura and Himmel's first day in the village.