Hiori sipped her soup slowly, calm and methodical like a monk lost in meditation. Across from her, however, Barnard was more like a storm eager to be unleashed.
"Oi, Hiori!" he barked, his breath rich with the scent of malt. "Why won't you ever try beer?! It's one of the world's greatest pleasures, you know!"
Hiori glanced at him without enthusiasm.
"Oi! Are you even listening!?" Barnard continued, and—as if the world belonged to him—he propped one foot up on the table, making the dishes tremble slightly.
"Your foot, Barnard… Off the table. This isn't some barbarian family dinner," Hiori sighed long, as if bearing the sins of the world.
"I don't like getting drunk, okay? It ends up being a burden to the people around me," Hiori said flatly, staring directly at Barnard.
Barnard took a long swig of his ale and grinned. "A burden? What nonse—"
Before he could finish, the tavern door burst open with a loud bang, accompanied by a gust of damp wind and the earthy scent of rain. A young woman stepped in quickly, her cloak soaked through, though her expression remained composed. Her right hand faintly glowed—a trace of magic.
"Whew... Good thing I activated the Barrier in time," she muttered to herself. Droplets dripped from her hood as she walked toward the innkeeper.
Barnard and Hiori turned in unison.
"Something's off," Hiori whispered, gripping her spoon like she might turn it into a weapon at any moment.
"What's off? She's clearly just a traveler," Barnard mumbled, raising his mug and winking at Hiori.
"Cheers to bad luck."
And in the dim corners of the tavern, the night quietly began to weave its web of mystery.
"What the hell…" Hiori muttered under her breath, too tired to care. She went back to her soup, trying to enjoy the warmth of the broth amidst the rain that refused to stop. But from the corner of her eye, she saw the girl glancing left and right—eyes sharp and restless, like a small animal desperately searching for shelter from a predator.
Her footsteps were light but hurried, until she finally stopped in front of their table.
"Um… excuse me… would it be alright if I sit with you?" she asked, her voice soft but laced with the remnants of panic.
Hiori and Barnard exchanged a quick glance. Just a flicker of the eye was enough to share many things—suspicion, alertness, and a slowly growing curiosity.
"Sure, go ahead," Hiori said at last, her voice flat but polite.
"Really? Thank you!" The girl sat down beside Hiori right away, pulling down her hood with a careful motion.
Beneath it, her face was younger than they had expected—but her eyes… her eyes looked like they had witnessed far too many things no girl her age should ever have seen.
Silence settled over them once more, broken only by the rain tapping against the roof and the occasional clink of glass. A subtle tension filled the space—like the moment before a storm, or just before the truth begins to unravel.
"Ahem…" Barnard suddenly let out a deep breath, his voice heavier now, the playful tone he usually carried sharpened slightly—tinged with suspicion, yet still wrapped in the warm familiarity of an old man's manner. He took a slow sip of his beer, then placed the wooden mug back on the table with a loud thok that echoed briefly in the quiet.
"So… where are you from?" he finally asked, his eyes fixed on the girl—not threateningly, but more like a father checking to see who his daughter was speaking to. "No offense meant, it's just… this village feels off. And then you show up alone, with active magic. That's not exactly normal."
The girl—her hood now resting around her shoulders—lowered her gaze, both hands wrapped around a warm mug of milk she hadn't touched. Her eyes stayed on the table, as if searching for the right words to spill first.
"I'm… no one," she said quietly.
Barnard raised an eyebrow, then chuckled softly. "Hah! That's usually what people say when they've got the most to hide."
Hiori leaned back against the bench, folding her arms across her chest. She said nothing, but her attention was locked in.
The girl—Yhera—bit her lip briefly before continuing. "I'm just… passing through. Looking for a safe place. Maybe somewhere to rest for a bit."
"Alone?" Hiori asked now, finally speaking. Her tone wasn't accusatory, just neutral—like someone who knew what it was like to travel the world without a hand to hold.
Yhera nodded, then lifted her mug and took a small sip. "Alone."
Silence followed.
Barnard slowly spun his mug on the table, nodding slightly. "Alright then. That makes three of us—strangers who ended up in this village, not even sure it's on any real map." He gave a light chuckle, though his seriousness hadn't completely faded.
Yhera offered a small smile, her face finally softening just a little. "My name is… Yhera," she said at last. "I'm not an adventurer. Not a noble. And definitely not some grand mage from a tower in the North."
"So who are you?" Hiori asked calmly.
"Someone running away from something," Yhera replied, still staring into her cup.
And for a moment, the only sound was the rain falling outside—wrapping the table in a hush, as if the world itself was holding its breath for what this night would reveal.
"Running from what? Are you alright?" Hiori asked, her voice gentle but still sharp—like someone who had seen too many lost souls trying to hide their wounds.
Yhera didn't answer right away. Her fingers played with the handle of her cup, turning it slowly. The steam from the warm milk framed her face, which trembled—not from the cold, but from something deeper, something that had lingered too long.
"I'm… fine," she replied softly, but too quickly—too defensively.
Barnard simply watched her, silent at first, then let out a slow breath and took a small sip of his beer. With a heavy voice, more like a life lesson than a question, he said,
"Kid… 'I'm fine' is sometimes the worst lie you can tell yourself."
A brief silence. Thunder rumbled faintly in the distance, tearing through the gray sky.
Barnard continued, his voice lower now, gentler. "You don't have to tell us everything. But believe me… if something—or someone—is chasing you… a memory, a past, or a future you didn't ask for… right here, at this table… you're safe."
Yhera finally looked up. Her eyes met Barnard's, then Hiori's. And for a moment, the outside world faded. All that remained was this wooden table, the sound of rain on the windows, and two strangers offering a kind of trust she'd never received—not even from those who had known her longer.
"I…" Her voice was almost a whisper. "I'm running from a place where my life was decided for me. From a system… from rules… from somewhere that told me I had no right to choose my own fate."
She paused, taking a shaky breath. "And now… they're looking for me."
Hiori didn't respond immediately, but her gaze sharpened—not with suspicion, but with understanding. She knew that feeling. She had once rejected a fate forced upon her, too.
Barnard gave a slow nod. "Then you're sitting with two people who've also turned their backs on the past. The world's too big to be shaped by just one hand."
Yhera smiled—faintly, but this time, it was real. "Thank you…"
And that night, in a small tavern in a village that seemed to appear out of nowhere, three souls adrift in the tides of fate began to build something stronger than mere companionship: trust, in the silence between them.
Yhera lowered her head, both hands trembling faintly as she held the cup—now only half full. Hiori and Barnard watched her—not with pressure, but with patience. Like two parents waiting for a lost child to find the courage to speak.
"I… I'm from the Vireth Clan," she said quietly.
Hiori furrowed her brows. "Vireth? That sounds familiar…"
"The pure-blooded nation from the Eastern Dusk Plains," Yhera continued. "They believe only chosen bloodlines are worthy of wielding high-tier magic. Women in our family aren't trained—they're caged. Prepared for arranged marriages. And me… I was called a 'failure' because I preferred learning defensive and protective magic."
Barnard tapped the table lightly. "Protective magic? So that's why you mentioned a Barrier spell when you came in earlier?"
Yhera nodded. "I ran away… that night, during the engagement ceremony. I threw a seal, broke through the family gates, and fled as far as I could. But they're looking for me. My father sent the Shadow Hunters after me… they may already have my trail."
Hiori let out a long breath, staring out the window now veiled in a misty rain. "And now you're afraid they're close?"
"I know they're close," Yhera said softly. "Because my nightmares have started coming true. I can feel him—the family's lead hunter—he's caught the scent of my magic. His name is Kaien. He won't stop until I return… or die."
Barnard narrowed his eyes. "Kaien Vireth… Word is, he once burned down an entire Guild tower just because a single apprentice disobeyed him."
"True…" Yhera nodded, her voice shaking. "And now, I'm that apprentice."
The air at the table shifted. Tension crept in—not born of fear, but resolve. Hiori set down her spoon and looked at Yhera with unwavering eyes.
"If they come," she said flatly, "they'll have to go through us first."
Yhera froze. Her eyes widened slightly, then began to well up with tears.
"I don't know how to repay your kindness…"
Barnard chuckled softly and took another sip of his beer. "Easy. If we survive the shadow hunters, you pay for my drink tonight."
The three of them laughed—quietly, but not because the joke was funny. It was a laughter born of necessity, the only shield they had left against the reality that was fast approaching. And somewhere out there, beyond the trees or in the ruins of a forgotten village, a black-cloaked figure might already be tracing Yhera's magical trail… carrying an old grudge from a family that never learned the meaning of mercy.