She's probably laughing right now.
I glance at the constellations with a tired grin. At least I still remember the place Uriel told me to look for. And well, not being a baby might be for the best.
"That would've been awkward for everyone," I mutter to the wind.
The smell of salt clings to the air — sharp, alive. I must be near the kingdom's borders.
I recall the map she drew before sending me here and start walking toward the sea. The air grows heavier with every step, and the dull ache in my legs reminds me this body isn't used to hiking yet.
When the horizon finally opens before me, I stop dead in my tracks.
"Is that… Clairmarche?"
The city sprawls along the coast like a painting that can't decide what it wants to be — elegant or dangerous. White walls gleam in the sun, red roofs flash like embers, and balconies jut over winding streets that sparkle with life. The scent of baked bread and saltwater mingle in the breeze. It's almost perfect — until you look closer.
Beyond the main road, the city darkens. Narrow alleys twist between sunlit streets. Shady figures linger by broken fountains, and laughter carries an edge sharper than comfort. Money talks in Clairmarche, but the rules aren't posted anywhere. They're whispered in the shadows, traded in coin and silence.
I trail behind a few merchant carriages rumbling toward the gates, trying not to draw attention. The guards barely glance at me — too busy waving the merchants through. I keep my head down, blending in with the bustle until I'm swallowed by the city's noise and color.
Up close, Clairmarche feels alive in a way that borders on feverish. Kids dart through the crowd clutching stolen fruit. Traders shout over each other. Somewhere, a bard strums a tune that drowns under the clatter of wheels and footsteps. I shake my head. Fancy and filthy all at once — the perfect place to start a life… or ruin it. Probably both.
By the time I find the building I'm looking for — the Explorers' Guild — the sun has started to dip behind the rooftops. A boy about my age sits on the stairs outside, staring blankly at the ground. His clothes are worn, his face pale. Not sad exactly — just empty.
Before I can say anything, a deep voice rumbles beside me.
"Hey, kiddo. Where do you think you're going? This place isn't somewhere you should even look at."
I turn to find a mountain of a man watching me — broad shoulders, scarred hands, eyes that have seen too many close calls. Definitely a veteran explorer.
"Good evening, sir," I say carefully. "I just arrived in town. I'm looking for information."
The man's eyebrow furrows. "Information, huh? Your clothes aren't noble, and you look awfully soft. I'm telling you, kid, that place is dangerous. Whatever you're after, you won't find it here—"
"Do you happen to know where I can get a map of the surrounding areas? A compass would help too."
He sighs, clearly giving up. "Lost, eh? Ah, what a bother… Here, take my compass. I barely use it anyway."
He presses it into my hand. His palm is calloused, warm — grounding in a way.
"Where are you headed?"
"The Timeless Lake. Do you know where it is?"
The man bursts into laughter. "You're really crazy, kiddo. I tried to warn you. The rest's on you."
He steps toward the guild doors but pauses, glancing back. "Just know… if you're really looking for that place, it'll be the last you ever see."
He disappears inside before I can answer.
As I pocket the compass, I notice the boy from the stairs watching me again. His eyes are sharp now — not empty at all. He stands, brushing dust from his clothes, and for the first time, I see the faintest curve of a smirk tug at his lips.
"What's your name?" he asks.
My name…?
For a second, everything blurs — like my thoughts are slipping through my fingers. Then instinct takes over.
"You can call me… Will."
"Why are you looking for that Mystery Dungeon, Will?"
His tone is curious, but there's something testing underneath it — like he's measuring the kind of fool I might be.
"There's something I need there," I answer. Simple and true enough.
"I know where it is. Want me to tell you?"
"You do?" I can't help the skepticism in my voice.
He grins faintly. "You don't mind if I tag along, right? I've had a rough few days, and it looks like you're heading for trouble. I could use a little excitement."
I study him. He doesn't look like a thief — no twitchy hands, no darting eyes. Just… tired. His posture says he's been running from something longer than I've been alive.
"Fine," I say. "But you still haven't told me your name."
"Ah, manners." He flashes a small, crooked smile. "I'm Yun Lockhart."
Lockhart? That sounds noble.
Though his ragged clothes and casual tone say otherwise.
"You're not good at hiding your thoughts, are you?" Yun says, smirk deepening.
I sigh. "So… you're a noble?"
He laughs, a rough, genuine sound that echoes off the guild wall. "Well, barely. I'm the last of my household. A fallen noble, if you want to be poetic about it."
I nod slowly. A fallen noble — a man with nothing left to lose.
He doesn't seem bitter though. If anything, he seems amused by it all. His eyes are sharp but unfocused, like someone who's learned to make jokes out of grief.
"It's my turn now," he says, eyes glinting. "Tell me why a guy who looks neither noble nor commoner wants to go to the Timeless Lake."
I hesitate. He's oddly cheerful for someone I found slumped on a guild's doorstep. Still, there's something magnetic about him — that mix of recklessness and warmth. Against my better judgment, I find myself answering his questions more easily than I should.
We walk together as the sun fades, trading questions and stories. I vaguely learn about Yun's past, his family, the fall of his house. Beneath the humor, there's quiet weight — the kind that doesn't need words.
In turn, I tell him only what I must. About the lake. About my awakening and the loss of my memories. He doesn't pry — though his sideways glances say he wants to.
The journey stretches on, the road narrowing into wild paths lined with reeds and the distant echo of birds chirping. For a while, neither of us speaks. The silence isn't uncomfortable — just heavy, like the air before rain.
By the time we reach the Timeless Lake, the moon has risen — pale and still. The lake itself is unsettlingly calm. No ripples. No wind. Just water like polished glass.
According to Yun, the real Mystery Dungeon lies at its center, on an island no one's ever reached. Any boat—or person—trying to cross simply vanishes, swallowed by the water as if the lake itself refuses to be disturbed.
"No life stirs here. Time doesn't seem to pass. And those who enter never return," Yun murmurs. His voice is steady, but I can see the faint tension in his jaw — like even he doesn't quite believe what he's saying.
I stare at its motionless surface, heart pounding. Somewhere beneath that water lies the first mystery Uriel wanted me to solve. Or at least I'd like to believe so.