Two years after the Demon King's defeat, in the Brett region of the Central Lands.
"All done," Eisen says, snipping the bandage with scissors.
Linie, her wounds tended, moves her arm blankly, as if unsure what's happening. She seems fine, at least.
"Impressive, Eisen," Himmel says. "If Heiter were here, he'd have healed her instantly."
"It's a warrior's duty," Eisen replies.
"…?" Linie tilts her head.
Himmel's admiration and Eisen's matter-of-fact response confuse me. What's a warrior got to do with it? Linie, sharing my confusion, glances between them. What's going on?
(We've reached our destination… but this is going to be trouble.)
I sigh, recalling the journey. Leaving the capital, picking up Linie—a demon child—in that village, and arriving here. Linie's the problem. Annoying, clingy, mimicking "mother" and following me. Shooing her does nothing. Is she drawn to my mana or just surviving? Either way, she's a hassle. Himmel carrying her spared me temporarily, but if this continues, it's a nightmare. I thought she'd be useful—clearly a mistake.
(And then there's this guy…)
I refocus on the dwarf. Not just any dwarf—Eisen, a warrior of Himmel's party, once my enemy. I barely remember him, but he's called humanity's strongest warrior. Stronger than Himmel? I asked once; he dodged. Like that priest or that elf, he's a monster.
I glance around Eisen's home. A large axe rests in the corner, alongside armor and weapons—marks of a warrior. Nothing else stands out. No other residents. He lives alone, I deduce, too familiar with human ways. Another nightmare.
"…What?" I say.
Eisen's staring at me, silent, for the umpteenth time. Creepy. Unlike that talkative priest, he's the opposite—taciturn to a fault. Part of Himmel's party? Really? He spoke earlier, mostly Himmel pleading about something trivial. After, he stared at Linie and me, then led us inside and treated her wounds without a word. Unnerving. I can't read him. Demons don't grasp human minds, but we learn their habits. With him, that's useless. He's as troublesome as Heiter, differently. I can't ignore him—my life's at stake. As I think—
"…Mother," Linie says.
"Again?" I snap. "Enough. I'm not your mother."
"It's fine," Himmel says. "We're not in the forest anymore. She trusts you."
"You're doing this on purpose," I say.
"What do you mean?" he says, feigning innocence.
Linie clings to me again, maybe wary of Eisen or done with treatment. I try to shake her off but give up—it's futile. Humans endure this constantly? I'd add a "stay away" command, but Himmel wouldn't allow it. He likely sees through my plan to use Linie. This is his petty revenge. Infuriating.
"Wait here," Eisen says.
"What?" I say.
He retreats to the back of the house. Even demons act more human. Are all dwarves like this?
"Is he always like that?" I ask Himmel. "I can't read him."
"Really?" Himmel says. "Seems normal to me."
Normal? I thought he was the sane one in their party, but apparently not. The craziest—Himmel—plays with Linie, who dodges him. She's not attached to me either, just acting. Himmel gets no pretense, judged by mana or otherwise. To outsiders, he's a suspicious creep.
Eisen returns, holding clothes—small, child-sized. He went to fetch them.
"Eisen, what's that?" Himmel asks.
"Clothes my late family wore," Eisen says. "Give them to her. Torn clothes won't do."
He shows them, expressionless. His family's, gone now. Linie's clothes are tattered—forest life or the village chase. Eisen noticed. Typical do-gooder, like Himmel's party.
"Are you sure?" Himmel says. "They're keepsakes."
"It's fine," Eisen says. "Leaving her like that would upset them more."
I don't get it. Giving Linie clothes makes sense—human kindness. But why care about people who're gone? Keepsakes? Pointless.
"Why worry about them? They're dead."
I almost ask but stop, shocked at myself. An unconscious reflex—demonic instinct or experience? I'd have asked without hesitation before. Something warns me not to speak. Why?
"…Something wrong?" Eisen asks.
"Nothing," I say, masking my unease.
He sensed my shift. I hide my demonic deception, but it feels different. Who am I deceiving? First time he's spoken to me directly.
"Here," he says, handing me clothes, a towel, and a bucket of water.
"What's this?" I say.
"A bath would be best, but her wounds can't handle it. Wipe her down."
"Why me?" I say. "Do it yourself."
"She's a girl," he says. "You're better suited. It's a mother's job."
"I'm not her mother," I say.
He wants to clean Linie—her hair's a mess, body filthy from the forest. Fine. But why me? He should do it. Gender doesn't matter to demons. That "mother" word again—I'm sick of it.
"Let me," Himmel says.
"I'll do it," I say.
"Stop, Himmel," Eisen says.
"Why?" Himmel asks.
For once, Eisen and I agree, leaving Himmel out. I reluctantly clean and dress Linie, as ordered—
(Finally done…)
I hang the towel, dispose of her old clothes, and sigh. Linie's clean, the clothes fitting perfectly. Only exhaustion remains. Cleaning a child is grueling—especially her long hair. Cutting it might help. A spell for this would be nice. It was that taxing.
"Good work," Himmel says. "Drink?"
"No," I say. "If you're so impressed, help next time."
"You refused," he says. "Eisen stopped me too. He wanted you to do it."
"Doesn't make sense," I say.
He offers a drink, sensing my mood. I ignore him, watching Linie scamper about, like Stroh or Lily. She looks human, but her horns betray her. She's assessing her surroundings, lulling humans—a demon's act. Even knowing this, Himmel and Eisen treat her like a human child. Why?
(What's that…?)
Linie stops near me, not clinging. Her gaze locks on Eisen's axe—huge, taller than her. She approaches, reaching for it. I'm transfixed. As her hand nears—
"Don't," Eisen says, scooping her up. "You'll get hurt."
"Sorry, Eisen," Himmel says. "Thanks."
"My fault for leaving it out," Eisen says. "Himmel, keep your sword and valuables out of her reach. Kids touch everything."
"Got it," Himmel says.
They tidy the room seamlessly, as if planned. Humans need such care for kids? So fragile—maybe that's why they need "family." Pointless.
"Why didn't you stop her?" Eisen asks me.
"Why should I?" I say. "That's my line."
He's beside me now, asking nonsense. I'm not her mother. Why's he protecting a demon child? It's unnecessary—demons aren't fragile like humans. Linie's move had purpose, likely tied to her magic. Doesn't he see that?
"Calm down, both of you," Himmel says. "Aura, help out. We're staying here a while."
He's right, though it grates. I join the cleanup, feeling an odd, alien unease—
"All set!" Himmel says, pleased.
I relax, glancing at him. The house is clean, our belongings moved in. Himmel plans to stay, meaning living with Eisen. As bad as Heiter? Trouble, regardless.
"Where's Linie?" Himmel asks.
"Sleeping over there," I say. "Lucky her."
Exhausted from scampering, she's out on a bed. Enviable. At least she's not clinging while asleep.
Eisen's gone to fetch water and firewood—oddly considerate, covering our share. Like Himmel's party, all do-gooders. Only Himmel and I remain. Perfect.
"I've got a question," I say.
"For me?" Himmel says. "What?"
"About Eisen," I say. "Why's he hung up on his family? They're gone."
It's been nagging me—why care about dead people's clothes? And why did I stop myself from asking earlier?
Himmel freezes, his expression new—stunned, like I said something unbelievable. Was it that strange? Asking him was a mistake.
"…What's your angle?" I say.
"I'm praising you," he says. "Not asking Eisen was right. Only you know why."
"What's that mean?" I say. "Stop patting my head. Annoying."
He strokes my head, infuriatingly natural, grinning like an idiot. What was that look? He claims ignorance but brims with confidence. I swat his hand away.
"I can answer the other part," he says. "Eisen—and I—feel memories in things the dead left behind. Keepsakes."
"…I don't get it," I say. "They're gone. It's just stuff. Worthless."
Why obsess over the dead? Death ends everything. Their things are just objects. Valuing them doesn't bring them back. Why cling?
"Maybe," Himmel says. "But what's worthless to you means something to others. Things left behind let us remember those we can't see. That's what matters."
"Remember…?" I say.
"Yeah," he says. "Like that accessory you wear. You always keep it on, right?"
"It's jewelry," I say. "What else do you do with it?"
"Fair," he says. "But seeing it, you'll think of me, even when I'm gone. You'll remember. Everyone wants to be remembered."
I touch the freesia on my chest. He gave it so I'd remember him? What a hassle. It wasn't just the flower's meaning? Human customs are illogical, wasteful. What's the point of remembering? It's useless, a waste of time.
"So you gave me this for something so pointless," I say. "Sorry, but it'll be long gone by then."
"Then I'll give you something else," he says. "Something you can't lose. But cherish gifts—they carry the giver's feelings."
"Feelings?" I say. "It's just a thing."
"Not to us," he says. "Gifts convey feelings words can't."
Gifts—a new, alien concept. Like bartering, but not. Incomprehensible. Irrelevant to me—I have no one to give to, no reason. Besides—
"Why not just say it?" I say. "Words are for that."
Demons mimic voices, but humans use words to communicate. Just say it. Why don't they see that?
"…Maybe Eisen and I are just clumsy," Himmel says, smiling wryly.
He really didn't realize. What an idiot.
"What's with that creepy face?" I say. "Got a problem?"
"Nothing," he says. "I was worried, but you're fine. Unlike Frieren, you've got Linie."
"What's that about?" I say.
"The future," he says.
He nods to himself, mentioning that elf and Linie. Before I can ask, Eisen returns, and Linie wakes. Too many unknowns. All I know is this life will be a nightmare.
Himmel watches Aura, pondering a distant future without him—
--+--
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