The carriage rolled smoothly along the stone-paved road, its gentle sway doing little to soothe the displeasure written plainly across Sumeragi Rin's face.
"I don't wanna," he muttered, slumping forward in his seat like a child being dragged to a tedious lesson.
Across from him, Harumi sat properly, hands folded on her lap—though the amused glint in her eyes betrayed how little sympathy she truly felt.
Seated comfortably behind them, Duchess Sumeragi Nao hummed softly to herself, clearly enjoying the atmosphere far more than her son.
"Rin," Harumi said, reaching out and poking his cheek lightly. "Stop sulking."
"I am not sulking," Rin protested weakly, even as his cheek puffed slightly from the poke. "I am… emotionally protesting."
Nao chuckled. "You say that every time you have to leave the estate."
"This is different," Rin insisted. "This isn't even fun. It's clothes. Formal clothes."
"Yes," Nao replied pleasantly. "For the imperial party."
Rin groaned dramatically.
The imperial party.
In a few months' time, the Imperial Capital would host a celebration unlike any other—the sixteenth birthday of Crown Prince Hoshimi Kazuo. Not just a birthday, but a coming-of-age ceremony, marking his formal entry into adulthood.
And adulthood, in noble terms, meant only one thing.
Marriage.
Or rather, the beginning of the process that would lead to it.
Sixteen was the age at which the empire acknowledged one's eligibility to stand as an adult before gods and law alike. It was also the moment whispers turned into negotiations, and negotiations into political maneuvers.
Consorts would be chosen.
Fates would begin to align.
But for now, this outing had nothing to do with the plot—or at least, that was what Rin told himself.
"This is a once-in-a-lifetime event," Nao continued. "You cannot attend wearing your usual attire. Nobles will be watching. The Crown Prince himself will be watching."
"I'm fine with my current clothes," Rin mumbled. "They work. They're comfortable."
"And completely unacceptable for an imperial coming-of-age ceremony," Nao said gently, yet firmly. "You are the heir of the Sumeragi Dukedom. You must represent your family properly."
Harumi nodded in agreement. "She's right, Rin. And… you should also consider making connections."
Rin shot her a look. "You're siding with her?"
"I always side with reason," Harumi replied smugly.
Rin slumped further. "Connections are exhausting. Nobles talk too much. And they never listen."
Nao raised an eyebrow. "That sounds suspiciously specific."
Rin groaned. "Last party I attended, some noble misunderstood what I said. I told him the food wasn't to my taste—not the taste, the food itself! I didn't like that kind of dish!"
Harumi blinked. "And?"
"And he assumed I was criticizing the chef," Rin continued bitterly. "Next thing I knew, one of the maids was fired. I hated that. I really hated that."
Harumi's expression softened.
Without hesitation, she leaned closer and wrapped her arms around him in a gentle hug.
"It wasn't your fault," she whispered. "And… you know we already hired her here at the Sumeragi estate, right? She's doing really well."
Rin froze for a second.
"…You did?"
Harumi nodded. "She's happy. She even says the work environment is much kinder here."
Rin relaxed almost instantly, leaning into the hug without resistance. "Good…"
Nao watched the scene with a quiet smile, eyes thoughtful.
He really is different around her, she mused.
After a moment, she cleared her throat. "Alright, you two. Behave. We've arrived."
The carriage slowed to a stop.
Outside stood a refined yet welcoming building, its exterior adorned with elegant carvings and banners bearing the crest of the Sumeragi family. Though modest in size compared to imperial workshops, the craftsmanship was undeniable.
"This is…" Harumi murmured, eyes widening slightly.
"Our family's personal tailor shop," Nao said proudly. "Located near the Sumeragi Capital. Convenient, isn't it?"
Rin nodded slowly. "Pierro's place."
Harumi blinked. "Pierro?"
"The most famous tailor in the empire," Rin explained. "He designs formal wear for the imperial family themselves."
As if summoned by the mention of his name, the shop's doors burst open.
"NAOOOOO!" a flamboyant voice rang out.
A tall man with sharp features, stylishly tied hair, and measuring tape draped around his neck strode forward dramatically.
"Ah! My dear Duchess!" Pierro exclaimed, flourishing a bow. "You grace my humble establishment once again!"
Nao laughed softly. "You never change, Pierro."
"Fashion never waits!" he declared, then turned his keen gaze toward Rin. "And this must be the young master! My, my—he's grown!"
Rin stiffened slightly. "Good afternoon."
Pierro clapped his hands together. "Oh yes. I can already see it. The posture, the shoulders—such potential!"
Harumi shifted awkwardly, trying to stay slightly behind Rin.
Nao noticed immediately.
"And Harumi," she added casually, "you'll be getting formal attire as well."
Harumi froze. "…Me?"
Rin turned sharply. "Wait—Harumi's coming too?"
Nao smiled. "Of course."
"But… the party is only for nobles," Rin said.
"Which is precisely why she's coming," Nao replied calmly. "For your safety."
Harumi opened her mouth to protest, but Nao raised a gentle hand.
"She is part of the Sumeragi family in all but name," the Duchess continued. "And I trust her far more than most guards. Rin—stay by her side. Protect her."
Rin hesitated.
Then nodded.
"…Alright."
Internally, his thoughts raced.
This works out. Perfectly, actually.
Having Harumi beside him at the party would make communication easier. Planning easier. If anything went wrong—plot-related or otherwise—he wouldn't be alone.
Help was close.
Harumi glanced at him, then smiled faintly.
"I'll do my best," she said.
Pierro beamed. "Wonderful! Then let us begin! Minimal extravagance? Or bold elegance?"
Rin sighed quietly.
So this is how it starts…
Threads of silk, choices of color, and a future inching ever closer.
And somewhere beyond this shop, fate watched patiently—waiting for the first stitch to be sewn.
Time passed quickly beneath the attentive hands of Pierro.
The renowned tailor moved around Rin and Harumi with a precision that bordered on reverence, a thin measuring tape draped around his neck like a priest's stole. He circled them, knelt, rose again, murmured numbers under his breath, and occasionally paused to squint as if their very proportions were a riddle begging to be solved.
"Hmm… posture relaxed, but your frame is deceptive, young master," Pierro muttered as he measured Rin's shoulders. "You look slender, but there's strength hidden there. Dangerous for cloth. Very dangerous."
Rin blinked. "Is… that bad?"
Pierro's eyes gleamed. "On the contrary."
Harumi stood patiently beside Rin, hands folded in front of her apron as Pierro moved to her next. He measured her waist, shoulders, and arms with professional courtesy, though even he could not fully hide his intrigue.
"And you, young lady… balanced. Graceful. You wear discipline naturally," Pierro said. "Clothes will cling to you obediently."
Harumi smiled politely. "Thank you."
Once the measurements were complete, Pierro straightened and clapped his hands once, sharply. "Now then—preferences."
Rin answered first, without hesitation. "Nothing that stands out too much."
Harumi nodded almost immediately after. "The same for me, please."
The room fell into an odd silence.
Pierro stared at them as if they had just insulted his ancestors.
"…Not stand out," he repeated slowly.
"Yes," Rin said, relieved that at least Harumi shared his sentiment. "Something practical. Clean. Refined, but subtle."
Harumi added gently, "Something appropriate for accompanying the young master without drawing unnecessary attention."
Pierro turned away, pressing two fingers to his temple.
Most of his creations were meant to dominate rooms, to command attention, to turn heads and steal breath. Subtlety was not his usual battlefield.
But after a long pause, his shoulders began to shake.
Then he laughed.
"Hah… hahahaha…!"
Rin stiffened. "Did we say something wrong?"
"No, no," Pierro said, spinning back toward them, eyes burning with passion. "You've given me a challenge."
A dangerous glint danced in his gaze.
"To create garments so restrained, so unassuming… that people cannot help but look anyway." He pressed a fist to his chest. "Ah, my blood sings."
Rin smiled in relief. "Then… thank you."
The misunderstanding was complete.
Rin believed this would help them avoid attention.
Pierro believed he would redefine it.
As preparations continued, Pierro glanced between Rin and Harumi. "One more thing," he said casually. "Should their designs… match?"
Before Rin could open his mouth, a cheerful voice cut in.
"Yes."
All heads turned.
Duchess Sumeragi Nao had answered without a shred of hesitation.
"They are partners," she continued brightly. "Their attire should reflect that."
Rin froze. "M-Mother—"
"And not merely in color," Nao added, already moving closer to Pierro and examining fabric samples. "Silhouette, accents, intent. Anyone with eyes should understand their bond."
Harumi's lips parted in surprise—but she quickly recovered and bowed slightly. "If that is your wish, Duchess."
Nao beamed. "Good girl."
Rin knew better than to argue. Once his mother decided something, resistance was pointless.
Nao's enthusiasm only grew from there. She selected accessories, subtle emblems, small design elements that tied the two outfits together like an unspoken promise. She looked delighted, humming softly as she worked with Pierro.
By the time everything was finalized, the sun had begun its descent.
Late afternoon light filtered through the windows as they prepared to return to the Sumeragi estate.
The carriage ride began uneventfully—until it didn't.
The horses slowed.
Then stopped.
One of the escorts rode ahead, then quickly returned, expression tense. "Duchess. There's a blockage on the road."
Nao frowned. "A blockage?"
"Yes. It wasn't there earlier."
That alone made the air heavier.
"What's blocking it?" she asked.
"A broken merchant carriage," the escort replied. "It appears abandoned."
Rin leaned toward the window and carefully pushed the curtain aside, peering out. Sure enough, a shattered carriage lay across part of the road, one wheel snapped clean off, the wooden frame splintered as if struck repeatedly.
"…That looks deliberate," Rin murmured.
"I want to check it," he said after a moment.
Nao sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Be careful. This region is… troublesome."
"I'll just take a look," Rin assured her.
The moment he stepped down from the carriage, Harumi followed.
"You don't need to come with me," Rin said quietly.
Harumi smiled and stepped closer, her presence calm and unwavering. "I wouldn't be your personal maid if I didn't."
Rin exhaled, resigned.
Escorted by several guards, they approached the broken carriage. Harumi crouched slightly, examining the damage.
"The wood is fractured in multiple places," she observed. "Not from impact alone. It was struck repeatedly… perhaps with blunt weapons."
One of the guards nodded grimly. "This is a known tactic."
Another added, "This area is dangerous. Young master, we recommend returning immediately."
Rin nodded. "I've seen enough—"
The bushes rustled.
Every guard moved at once.
Steel sang as blades were drawn.
From the undergrowth, figures emerged—cloaked, armed, eyes sharp with hunger.
Bandits.
Rin felt Harumi shift closer to him, her hand subtly ready, her posture protective.
"So," a rough voice sneered, "a noble carriage after all."
Rin's gaze hardened—not with fear, but calculation.
The road had become a trap.
And it was already sprung.
The guards reacted instantly.
Steel flashed as five knights moved in perfect unison, forming a tight protective ring around Rin. Their bodies became walls—shields angled outward, blades poised low and ready. Harumi stood within the circle, close enough that she could feel Rin's sleeve brush against her arm.
She trembled.
Not from weakness—but from recognition.
"These ones…" one of the knights muttered, teeth clenched. "It's them."
The bandits had stepped fully into view now, spreading out with practiced ease. Their movements were not frantic, nor reckless. Each step was measured, each position chosen with intent. They did not rush. They surrounded.
Harumi swallowed. She had heard stories—every merchant, every traveler passing near the undeveloped borders of the Sumeragi dukedom had.
"They're the Ashroad Fang," another guard said quietly. "The ones who raid caravans clean. No bodies if they can help it. Ransom specialists."
Kidnappers.
Professionals.
Hit-and-run tacticians who struck fast, vanished faster, and left behind only empty roads and broken wagons.
This region was infamous for it.
Dense forest pressed close to the road on both sides, its canopy thick enough to swallow sunlight. Though the land officially belonged to the Sumeragi dukedom now, development had not yet reached this far. It lay between the empire and a neighboring country—an unpoliced seam where law struggled to take root.
Perfect hunting grounds.
The bandits' gazes lingered on the carriage first.
Then… on Rin.
The moment they saw the crest embroidered subtly into his clothing, the atmosphere changed.
"…Jackpot," one of them whispered, awe barely concealed.
The Sumeragi emblem.
Not worn by distant relatives. Not worn by retainers.
Only heirs.
Only blood.
The bandits had almost ignored the carriage at first—noble transports were usually more trouble than they were worth. Too many guards. Too many complications.
But Rin stepping out himself had rewritten the equation entirely.
A boy.
Young.
An heir.
And beside him—
A beautiful maid.
Light-haired, refined, clearly cherished.
The bandits grinned.
"Well now," one called out mockingly, lowering his weapon just enough to sneer. "Didn't your parents teach you better, little lord? Stepping out like that?"
Another laughed. "Guess nobility really does make people soft."
Rin said nothing.
His gaze moved calmly, taking in numbers, spacing, posture.
Fifteen bandits.
Five guards.
Bad odds.
The first clash erupted near the carriage.
Two bandits rushed the rear guards, blades slashing low to prevent retreat or reinforcement. The knights responded instantly, locking them down with brutal efficiency. Metal rang through the forest as sparks flew.
"Don't let them regroup!" a bandit shouted.
The real battle, however, was here.
Around Rin.
Three bandits lunged forward—but were immediately pushed back by the guards' tight formation. Shields slammed, swords cut precise arcs, forcing the attackers to retreat a step.
They couldn't reach him.
Not yet.
Minutes stretched into a tense stalemate. The knights held firm, their formation disciplined, every movement calculated to deny access to the young master at its center.
Harumi watched everything with wide eyes, her hands clenched tight against her apron.
Rin stood slightly in front of her without thinking.
She noticed.
And for a brief, irrational moment—her fear softened into something warmer.
"Tch," a voice clicked in annoyance.
The bandit leader stepped forward.
He had stayed back until now, observing.
Unlike the others, he wore no visible armor—only layered cloth and a dark mantle that crackled faintly, as though charged with static. His eyes glowed faintly blue.
"So tight," he sighed. "You're wasting time."
The bandits near the carriage were beginning to falter—two already wounded, forced to withdraw.
The leader frowned.
"Enough."
He raised a single hand.
The air changed.
Rin felt it first.
A pressure—not physical, but heavy. The hairs on his arms prickled. Harumi gasped softly as a sharp scent filled the air, like metal before a storm.
Magic.
In this world, people were divided from birth by a single, unforgiving line.
Those with magic.
And those without.
Magicians were born with their techniques already etched into their souls—unchangeable, limited, but powerful. They could not learn new spells, but what they had… they mastered.
The bandit leader was one of them.
"Control Thunder," he murmured.
Lightning snapped into existence around his fingers.
Not wild bolts from the sky—but controlled arcs, precise and lethal.
He slammed his palm into the ground.
Crack—!
Electricity surged outward in a rippling wave, crawling along the earth like a living thing.
The knights cried out.
Their bodies seized as lightning danced across their armor, muscles locking, nerves screaming. They did not fall—but they slowed. Their formation wavered.
"Ngh—!"
"Damn it—!"
Magicless knights could not resist it.
Their movements became sluggish, reactions dulled just enough.
That was all the bandits needed.
They surged forward.
Blades slipped past shields. One knight was knocked aside. Another barely deflected a strike meant for Rin's throat.
"Run!" one of the guards shouted. "Young master—escape! We'll open a path!"
They fought desperately, pushing back with sheer will, carving a narrow opening toward the forest road behind them.
"Go!" another yelled.
Rin took one step—
And stopped.
Three bandits broke through.
They moved fast, coordinated, ignoring the guards entirely.
One came from the left.
One from the right.
One straight ahead.
Harumi inhaled sharply.
"Rin—!"
He moved without thinking.
Rin stepped forward, placing himself fully between Harumi and the advancing blades.
The world seemed to slow.
He could hear his own breath.
The crackle of residual lightning.
The bandits' boots crunching against gravel.
Their eyes were greedy now—focused, intent.
Cornered.
No guard between them anymore.
Just him.
Rin raised one hand.
Palm outward.
A simple gesture—like asking the world to stop.
And his expression—
Calm.
Unflinching.
Ready.
The forest held its breath.
Rin Sumeragi.
Within the Hoshimi Empire, that name carried weight far beyond the borders of the Sumeragi Dukedom. To the common people, the Sumeragi were not warriors celebrated in ballads nor conquerors etched into monuments. Instead, they were something far more terrifying in its own way.
They were indispensable.
Health administration, disaster response, infrastructure repair, judicial oversight, logistical coordination—anything that ensured daily life continued without collapse was, in one way or another, touched by Sumeragi hands. When plague threatened, it was the Sumeragi who mobilized healers. When roads broke and bridges fell, it was Sumeragi planning that restored them. When corruption surfaced, it was Sumeragi auditors who unraveled it.
Half the empire moved because they allowed it to move.
That was why people whispered that the Sumeragi were the second imperial family—not because they sat on the throne, but because if they ever stopped working, the empire itself would fall apart within a single night.
And Rin was their heir.
Few outside the inner circles understood how the Sumeragi sustained such an impossible workload. The answer lay in two truths.
The first was brutal discipline. Every Sumeragi child, from the moment they could read, was trained in administration—law, economics, engineering, medicine, governance. They did not "inherit" authority; they were forged for it. By the time they were adults, taking over their parents' duties was not a leap but a continuation.
The second truth…
Was magic.
In this world, magic was the great divider of humanity.
Those born with magic techniques—magicians—stood on a different axis of power entirely. They did not learn magic. They were born with it. A fixed set of spells tied to a single technique, immutable and absolute. They could never gain more techniques—but what they had, they could refine endlessly.
Common magic techniques were widespread. Many could be born with the same one. Like the bandit leader's.
Control Thunder.
A technique granting authority over a narrow aspect of lightning. Enough to paralyze, to strike, to dominate those without magic—but limited. Constrained.
Rare magic techniques were fewer, granting not only spells but enhancements—sharper minds, stronger bodies, faster casting, heightened perception.
And then there were the unique techniques.
The kind that bent the rules so badly that they might as well have been a separate existence.
The Sumeragi family possessed one such technique.
A technique whose buff alone was enough to reshape an entire bloodline's destiny.
The buff was called—
Limitless.
The effect was simple, terrifying, and absolute.
A Sumeragi could not feel physical fatigue.
Their muscles did not tire. Their stamina did not drain. Their bodies could operate indefinitely, limited only by injury or death. This was the true reason the Sumeragi could shoulder half the empire's burdens. Where others collapsed, they continued. Where others needed rest, they worked on.
And that was only the buff.
The full name of their magic technique was—
Limitless Space.
Magic techniques followed a strict naming structure:Buff and Action : Element.
The first term defined the nature of the technique.The second defined its scope.
"Control Thunder" meant dominion over a fraction of lightning.
"Limitless Space" meant—
Everything.
Every spell.Every manipulation.Every concept tied to space itself.
For Rin Sumeragi, space was not an environment.
It was a tool.
That truth settled into the three bandits' bones a heartbeat too late.
They had broken through. They had reached him. Their blades were already mid-motion when Rin raised his hand.
Palm outward.
His expression was not fear.
It was boredom.
"Did you really think," Rin said calmly, "that you could touch me so easily?"
He waved his hand aside.
Space warped.
The bandits didn't feel pain at first—only the sensation of being moved. The world folded, twisted, and then—
CRASH.
All three were slammed into a tree as if thrown by an invisible giant. Bark exploded. Leaves rained down. Their bodies crumpled to the forest floor, unconscious before they even understood what had happened.
Harumi's breath caught.
She had seen Rin use magic before—controlled, measured, restrained.
But this—
This was effortless.
The bandit leader's eyes widened only for a moment before hardening.
"A magician…" he hissed. "Then you die first."
Lightning surged again, brighter, more violent. He thrust his hand forward, unleashing a bolt meant not to stun—but to kill. It screamed through the air toward Rin's chest.
And then—
It stopped.
Midair.
Frozen.
Not dispersed. Not deflected.
Contained.
The lightning crackled helplessly, suspended in an invisible boundary like an insect trapped in amber.
Rin exhaled slowly.
"So," he said, eyes drifting toward the leader, "you were planning to disable me… and let the knights and my maid die in the process?"
The five knights felt it.
A chill.
Despite still fighting the remaining bandits, their instincts screamed danger—not from the enemy, but from the young master behind them. Space itself seemed to listen to him.
Rin flicked his fingers.
The trapped lightning shattered—fragmenting into dozens of smaller arcs that shot outward with surgical precision. Each bolt struck a bandit—not enough to kill, but enough to numb, to paralyze, to drop them where they stood.
Twelve bodies collapsed almost simultaneously.
The knights didn't waste the opening. They moved instantly, disarming and restraining the incapacitated bandits with brutal efficiency.
Only one remained standing.
The leader.
He took a step back.
Then another.
"…This isn't worth it," he muttered.
He turned and ran.
Harumi's heart leapt—but Rin had already moved.
He raised both hands, palms facing each other, rotating them slowly as if molding invisible clay.
Space screamed.
The air compressed, folding inward, mana condensing into a dense, shimmering sphere. The forest floor trembled as everything nearby—leaves, dust, even sound—began to pull toward it.
"Limitless Space," Rin said quietly."First technique."
The sphere stabilized.
"Attraction."
He hurled it.
The ball of compressed space tore through the air, warping everything around it. Trees bent inward. The ground cracked. When the bandit leader felt the pull, it was already too late.
"No—!"
His body was yanked backward, dragged violently through the air, slammed into the collapsing gravity well. The sphere unraveled an instant later, depositing him unconscious but alive onto the dirt.
Silence fell.
For a moment, no one spoke.
The forest slowly returned to stillness.
The knights stared.
Harumi stared.
Rin lowered his hands and sighed.
"…What a hassle."
For a fifteen-year-old, controlling magic at this level—precision, restraint, battlefield awareness—was nearly unheard of. Even among Sumeragi, whose very bloodline was shaped by Limitless Space, such mastery took decades.
Rin's father, Sumeragi Arata, had once watched his son practice in silence.
Afterward, he had spoken only one sentence.
"He is not merely a genius."
"He is a genius among Sumeragi."
Rin, however, knew the truth.
He wasn't a genius.
He was reincarnated.
That secret was known to only one person.
Harumi.
As she watched the unconscious bandits, the warped trees, the space that still felt wrong around Rin, her chest tightened. Once again, she was reminded—
The man she served.The so-called side character of the novel.
Was the most dangerous person she knew.
And that was exactly why she had warned him.
Because someone this powerful didn't need to try to change the plot.
He only needed to exist.
The aftermath came quietly.
With the fall of their leader, the bandit group unraveled faster than Rin had expected. Some fled into the forest the moment the pressure lifted—cowards who knew when the hunt had turned against them. Others weren't fast enough.
More than twenty bandits were captured alive.
Ironically, the majority of them were the very ones who had rushed toward Rin, believing they could snatch a noble heir and vanish into the trees with a fortune's worth of ransom. Their confidence had been shattered just as completely as their plans.
As the sounds of clashing steel faded and restraints were secured, Rin turned his attention back to the five guards who had stayed by his side.
"Are you all alright?" he asked.
The knights straightened despite their condition. A few were still shaking from residual numbness, muscles slow to respond, limbs heavy as if wading through mud—but none were critically injured.
"We can recover, Young Master," the lead guard answered, breathing steadily. "The lightning numbed us, but it didn't linger."
Rin nodded. "Good. Once reinforcements arrive, I want you all to rest. Properly. That's an order."
The guards exchanged brief looks—then smiled.
"Yes, Young Master."
Only after confirming their safety did Rin turn to Harumi.
She was standing close behind him, hands clenched tightly at her sides, shoulders stiff. He already knew the answer—but knowing didn't stop the worry from creeping in.
"Harumi," he said quietly. "Are you hurt?"
She looked up, startled, then shook her head. "No. I'm fine. Really."
Rin searched her face for another moment, then exhaled in relief. "Good."
With the sound of approaching hoofbeats and voices echoing from the forest path—reinforcements finally arriving—Rin gestured toward the carriage.
"We'll head back inside. The rest can handle things from here."
He reached out without thinking and took Harumi's hand, gently but firmly pulling her along with him.
A few of the knights froze.
Then one of them let out a low, impressed whistle before quickly coughing and regaining his composure.
The guards had long known one thing about Rin Sumeragi.
He treated people well—especially those without magic. He listened. He remembered names. He stood in front when danger came instead of hiding behind authority.
But those closest to him?
They were treasured.
Protected.
Cherished.
Seeing the young master walking back toward the carriage, hand firmly clasped around his personal maid's, made that truth clearer than any words ever could.
Rin and Harumi, however, walked as naturally as if this were nothing out of the ordinary.
Because for them… it wasn't.
They had done this countless times growing up. When storms came. When crowds grew too large. When fear crept in unexpectedly. Old habits, formed long before reincarnation, didn't disappear just because memories returned.
Harumi squeezed his hand back.
Just a little.
Rin felt it immediately.
"Hey," he said softly, glancing at her. "It's over now. You don't need to tremble so much, alright?"
She huffed quietly. "Easy for you to say. You're always like that."
"Like what?"
"Always the one standing in front of danger," Harumi replied. "As if it's nothing."
Rin smiled faintly. "What can I say? I am strong."
"And yet," she shot back, "the moment the word novel comes up, you panic."
"That's different," Rin said without hesitation. "Those things are written in stone. Either you escape them cleanly… or you face consequences you can't undo."
His expression darkened for just a second.
"One wrong move, and people end up dead for reasons that shouldn't exist in the first place. I don't like that. I don't like seeing people die because a story says they have to."
Harumi looked at him for a long moment.
Then she smiled—soft, fond, familiar.
"Hehe. I guess that part of you hasn't changed at all since the first time we met."
Rin sighed, but there was warmth in it.
They reached the carriage just as the door flew open.
"Rin!"
Duchess Nao wrapped him in a fierce embrace before he could react.
"You reckless child!" she scolded, voice shaking between anger and relief. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?! Leaving the carriage, confronting bandits—what were you thinking?!"
"I was thinking—"
"And you!" Nao turned sharply toward Harumi. "Following him into danger without hesitation!"
Harumi bowed her head reflexively. "I apologize, Duchess—"
Nao pulled her into the hug as well.
"…I'm just glad you're both safe."
The scolding continued for several more moments—concern layered over anger, anger melting into relief—until Nao finally took a breath and stepped back.
Then she noticed their hands.
Still clasped.
Her lips curved upward immediately.
"Oh?" she teased. "Holding hands now, are we?"
"It's just the usual," Rin replied flatly.
"Mhm," Nao hummed, clearly unconvinced. "Of course it is."
She smiled, eyes gleaming with far too much amusement.
The escorts requested time to rest and reorganize, and Nao agreed without argument. The carriage would remain stationary until everyone had recovered and the area was fully secured.
While the guards worked, Rin reached into a reinforced case within the carriage and withdrew a compact, metal device—etched with intricate runes, its surface humming faintly with contained mana.
He handed it to Nao.
"I'd like to test it now, if you don't mind."
Nao raised an eyebrow. "This is the device you were working on?"
"Yes. The barrier prototype. All it needs is a stable placement point and activation. If we mount it above the carriage, it should be enough."
Nao studied it for a moment, then nodded. "Alright."
She opened the carriage door and issued clear, precise orders. The guards complied immediately, setting the device into place as instructed.
They would not move until everyone was well.
Until the barrier was confirmed.
As the faint shimmer of magic began to form above the carriage, Rin leaned back against the seat, exhaustion finally catching up—not in body, but in mind.
Harumi sat beside him, close enough that their shoulders touched.
Outside, the forest was quiet again.
And for now…
They were safe.