Fumika splashed water onto her face, the soft sound echoing in the small room. She leaned over the basin, rubbing sleep from her eyes, then straightened with a quiet sigh.
"Morning already feels weird here," she muttered.
Akiha, sitting on the edge of his bed, watched her from the corner of his vision.
She looks… normal.
Like yesterday never happened.
That alone made his chest tighten.
She turned and sat on her bed, legs tucked in, facing him. "So. What do we do today?"
There it was.
He inhaled and explained—carefully, exactly as he'd planned. Training first. Getting used to their skills. Waiting until later to go out. Fewer people. Less pressure.
He kept his voice steady. Kept the details shallow.
The conversation blurred even as it happened—his words, her brief responses, a pause here and there. At one point, she tilted her head slightly.
"…Are you sure?" she asked.
He nodded. "It only makes sense. We both hate crowds anyway."
She didn't argue. But her eyes lingered on him just a moment longer than usual.
She doubts me, he realized.
She's not saying it—but she feels it.
"Alright," Fumika said at last. "Then… we train here?"
She glanced around the room. "Is that safe?"
"It should be," Akiha replied. "Our skills are weak—according to that damn priest, at least. I don't think we'll break anything."
After a brief hesitation, she nodded.
They sat on the floor.
"Okay," she said. "I'll go first."
She held out her hand. "Storage."
The air warped.
A thin, soundless tear opened—like reality had been peeled back—revealing a dark, depthless space beyond. It was small, no larger than a backpack opening.
They stared.
"…Did you really need to say the skill's name out loud?" Akiha asked.
"Yeah," she replied. "The activation just… came to me. Like muscle memory. It's weird."
"Same here," he murmured, leaning closer. "…That's unsettling."
"Tell me about it," she said. "I don't even like looking at it—and I'm the one who summoned it."
Several seconds passed.
"You want to try?" she asked.
Akiha swallowed. If I hesitate now, I'll hesitate forever. And we're definitely going to rely on this skill a lot.
"Yeah."
He extended his hand.
The moment his fingers crossed the boundary, a strange sensation washed over him—not pain, not cold.
Absence.
Like his hand no longer existed.
He pulled it back.
"…No resistance," he murmured. "It's like my hand wasn't there—but it was."
He reached for his coin pouch, then paused.
If this works…
He tossed it into the rift.
The pouch vanished.
"There," he said. "it should be safer there."
The rift closed.
Fumika blinked. "You trust it that much?"
"I trust you," he said without thinking.
She looked away way too quickly.
"…About the storage," she said after a moment. "It seems it only uses mana when I put something in or take something out. Once it's stored, it doesn't drain anything. I can feel it."
"That's… incredibly useful," Akiha said. "More than you realize."
She gave a small, uncertain smile.
"…Hey," he added, casual on purpose. "Can you open a status window?"
"A status window?" she repeated. "Like the appraisal crystal?"
"Yeah. But on command."
She frowned. "Status open."
Nothing happened.
She shook her head. "Nothing happened."
A pause.
"…Why you asked?" she asked.
The word landed heavier than it should have.
Akiha felt it immediately—his chest tightening, thoughts scrambling.
"W-well," he said slowly, eyes sliding away, "maybe it's different for everyone. Or maybe it's because I'm a mage."
"That doesn't really answer it."
He forced a laugh. "This world's weird. Maybe I just got lucky. Maybe it thinks I'm the main character or something."
She didn't laugh.
Her gaze stayed on him—quiet, searching. Not accusing. Just waiting.
I'm not lying, he told himself.
Not really.
Carmen's voice echoed faintly in his mind.
"...Do not speak of me to anyone unless you can trust them completely…"
If this status window really the results of her doing… I'm just not ready yet.
It wasn't that he didn't trust Fumika.
That was the problem.
He trusted her too much.
He just don't want her to get involved with his problem.
"…Let's go eat breakfast," he said abruptly. "We'll think better on full stomachs."
She hesitated, clearly wanting to say something—but then nodded.
"Okay."
They ate downstairs in near silence.
Training resumed afterward.
Akiha practiced Blood Magic—biting his thumb, drawing only a little blood, shaping it into thin threads and hardened droplets. Nothing flashy. Nothing dangerous.
He found out that he doesn't need to say his skill's name to use it and told Fumika about it. She finally did it too, after a few try.
At some point, Akiha noticed his thumb.
The place where he'd bitten himself earlier—hard enough to draw blood—no longer hurt.
He turned his hand over slowly.
Nothing.
No scab. No mark. Not even lingering tenderness.
…Already healed?
A quiet chill slid down his spine.
He remembered it clearly now—biting down during their desperate run from the horned rabbit, the sting sharp and real.
And now it was gone. Completely.
My body really does regenerate passively… at inhuman rate, that is.
The thought didn't comfort him.
It unsettled him.
Across the room, Fumika continued practicing. She summoned and dismissed her storage rift a few times, then shifted to her Thread manipulation magic—guiding a napkin into the air, folding it, stretching it thin, making it flutter like a clumsy paper bird.
After a while, her movements slowed.
She pressed a hand to her temple. "I feel dizzy…"
Akiha looked up. "Yeah. Me too."
He opened his status window.
"…I see."
"What is it?" she asked.
"I don't think what I felt last night was anemia," he said. "When I used Blood Magic against that rabbit, it wasn't blood loss—it was my mana running low."
—————————————————
Mana: 6 / 55
—————————————————
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Almost an hour passed.
Akiha checked again.
"…That's fast," he muttered.
"What is?" Fumika asked.
"My mana. It's back to full."
She blinked. "Already?"
"Yeah. It dropped to six earlier. Took less than an hour to recover."
When the sunlight outside grew brighter, Akiha stood.
"Can you go order lunch below for us?" he asked. "I'll stay here."
She narrowed her eyes slightly. "You're not hungry?"
"I will be. I just… need to test something first."
A pause.
"…Alright," she said at last. "Don't do anything reckless."
He smiled. "I won't."
She slipped on her glasses, grabbed her cardigan, took out the coin pouch from her Storage skill, and left.
As the door closed behind her, silence rushed in.
Akiha turned toward the window.
Sunlight streamed through—soft, indirect. Even that made his skin prickle, a faint burning sensation crawling along his arm.
So it really is sunlight.
His throat tightened as he reread one of his Racial Traits effect—
—————————————————
Direct sunlight exposure causes severe burn damage.
—————————
I just need to know how bad it could be.
Slowly—hesitantly—he raised his hand, stretched it out the window.
Just one finger should be enough.
The instant his index finger crossed into direct sunlight—
It vanished.
No blood dropped.
No delay needed.
The joint disintegrated into ash and drifting smoke.
Pain detonated all at once.
"Agh—!"
The scream tore out of him, raw and uncontrolled—
'Severe burn damage' my ass!
It's not even damage, it's gone!!
—at the same time the door flew open.
"Aki-kun?!"