Seven days had passed since I'd "become" a deity—hahaha. Even now, it felt strange to think about. Everyone in the village was talking about me, whispering stories like embers carried on the wind. In that time, I'd learned much about these people. This wasn't the only human settlement. There were others—small, scattered—and each governed by an elder. But above them all was a single man they called the Human King, leader of these settlements. He lived in a nearby village, and the settlements existed to serve him.
The one I now stayed in was a hunting and gathering settlement, responsible for feeding the king's family. Two of the other settlements practiced a rough form of agriculture, and from what I gathered, they produced food for trade or tribute.
I also began to notice differences between the people themselves. In the settlement where I lived, the people were around five feet tall, muscular, with black hair. In another, the people were said to have golden hair and were considered almost unnaturally beautiful. In yet another, they had black hair but long, narrow faces with tiny eyes. Only my settlement wore crude clothing of leaves and fur; the agricultural ones used some kind of primitive thread to stitch their garments. Despite these differences, all were ruled by one man—the strongest among them, the so-called Human King.
I had been kept hidden all this time, allowed to see only a handful of people: Chief Goro, the old man with the garland; his wife Haru, a kind but watchful woman; and their daughter Hana, who moved with quick curiosity and soft eyes. The five hunters who had first found me were now part of my service as well, though "service" felt like the wrong word—they acted more like guardians than servants.
Word had already started spreading to the other settlements. I could feel it in the air, in the way Goro's eyes lingered on me.
I won't be hidden for long.
"Master Ryuma, your food is ready," Hana said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "But before that… do you want to take a bath?"
She was still shy, her gaze never lifting to meet mine. I didn't know if someone had told her that looking at my eyes could turn her to stone—or maybe it was just her nature—but I had never seen her face fully. Always down, always careful. I never asked her to look at me; somehow, it didn't bother me. Did it mean I didn't care, or that it simply didn't matter? I wasn't sure.
Evenings here were long and quiet. The villagers slept early and woke before dawn, leaving a veil of darkness that gave me the chance to move around unseen. Tonight, I could sneak without anyone noticing.
I'll take the bathfirst, I decided.
Apparently, in this settlement only the chief's family was allowed a proper bath every day. The rest were restricted, allowed water only for drinking. A rule from the king's family, I was told. Honestly, I couldn't understand what kind of foolishness governed them.
And the "bath" itself was nothing like I knew. I couldn't go to the river—it would expose me to anyone passing by, defeating the whole purpose of hiding. Instead, Hana brought a pot of water, gently pouring it over me while I stayed still. I only had to remove my clothes and let her work, careful not to move too much or make a sound.
The water was cool against my skin, a quiet ritual in the middle of the dark village. Hana worked silently, and for a brief moment, the outside world—hunters, beasts, gods, and kings—didn't exist. It was just the two of us, in the shadows, carrying out a simple, human routine.
After the bath, I slipped back into my clothes and walked to the main hall—the heart of Goro's house. Compared to the huts outside, his home was practically a fortress. Its walls were thicker, its roof more solid, and it carried an air of permanence in a place where everything else looked temporary.
Goro was a respected man here, not because of brute strength but because of his story. He had once been a slave in another kingdom and, when he grew old, he was released. Everything he knew—his customs, his discipline, even the way he led this small settlement—came from that time in captivity. His mind was sharper than most around him, a quiet blade honed by experience.
He even had a map.A map of the world.
When he first showed it to me, I was stunned. The entire supercontinent was drawn out in ink and symbols. It wasn't some crude sketch; it was organized, detailed. The landmass was divided into many different kingdoms, like cracks in a giant slab of stone. The Sapien Kingdom, where we lived, was marked on the edge—a tiny state in terms of landmass, nothing more than a pinprick on the parchment.
According to Goro, the largest and most powerful kingdom wasn't even ruled by a human but by a woman from some other species entirely. He had spoken of her in whispers, as if even her name carried power. I still didn't know much about her, but even the way Goro described her was enough to tell me she wasn't someone ordinary.
"Master Ryuma, please come. Your food is ready," Hana's soft voice broke my thoughts.
I moved toward the dining area, but as soon as I stepped inside, something felt… off. The spiritual energy around the three of them—Goro, Haru, and Hana—was different tonight. Not warm, not neutral. It was heavy, sagging, like a storm cloud pressing down.
Sad. Upset. Troubled.
They tried to hide it with small gestures and polite expressions, but to me, it was like staring at a canvas splashed with dark paint. Something was wrong.