I woke up early, just as I always did.
I couldn’t say when exactly this had become natural for me, but my body had long grown accustomed to waking shortly before sunrise without anyone needing to call me.
There was no appointment demanding an early start, no mission waiting for me, not even a clear reason to rush.
Just…
that faint sensation that the day had already begun, and time would not wait, even while the sky remained gray.
I stayed lying there for a few moments, my eyes fixed on the cracked white ceiling above me.
Silence filled the room, yet it was never truly empty.
It was filled with sounds only I could hear—my steady breathing, the slow rhythm of my heartbeat, and countless thoughts forming and dissolving like clouds in the early morning sky.
Some were clear enough to name.
Others refused to take shape, remaining as things that could be felt but not described.
I let out a quiet sigh.
Then I slowly sat up, stretching my arms forward and feeling the pleasant crackling of my shoulder joints.
Yesterday’s strain was still speaking through my body.
As I had done every morning for many years, I began my stretches.
Not as random exercise.
As a ritual.
A full fifteen minutes that I never sacrificed for anything.
One movement after another.
One posture after another.
Slowly tightening and loosening muscles until each part of my body woke in turn.
My back.
My legs.
My shoulders.
My neck.
I treated my body like a finely crafted tool that required preparation before use.
When I finished, I felt that familiar sensation I had always loved—the feeling that everything was where it belonged.
The feeling of readiness.
My morning routine gave me more than physical flexibility.
It gave me control.
As though, during those quiet moments, I reclaimed myself before the day stole me away and dragged me wherever it wished.
I dressed quietly.
The light gray shirt.
The dark trousers suited for movement.
The leather belt supporting the twin sword sheaths at my sides.
Familiar.
Comfortable.
Me.
I headed downstairs into the inn.
The place was still quiet at this early hour, nearly empty except for a man sleeping on a corner table with a cold mug sitting before him.
The pale morning light slipped through the wooden-framed windows, reflecting off the tables and painting faint golden lines across the stone floor.
The scent of old wood lingered in the air, mixed with the last traces of smoke from a dying hearth.
This place…
Despite its simplicity, it had always given me a feeling I could never properly name.
Not merely safety.
Something deeper.
As if it remembered me every time I returned.
I washed my face in the basin near the entrance.
The water was colder than I expected.
For a brief moment, my breath caught in my throat.
I raised my head and looked at my reflection on the still surface.
The same face.
The same short brown hair, slightly unruly from sleep.
The same green eyes that I could never decide whether they revealed too much—or hid everything.
Nothing had changed.
And yet…
I felt different somehow.
In a way I couldn’t put into words.
I sat at my usual table.
The same seat.
The same chair with armrests.
The same spot near the window where I could watch the alley outside.
I wasn’t sure why I always chose this exact place.
Perhaps because people searched for stability whenever everything around them seemed to be moving.
Only a few minutes passed before Sarah emerged from the inner doorway.
She wore her familiar white apron, still marked by traces of yesterday’s work.
Her silver-gray hair was neatly tied behind her head.
And on her face…
That smile.
A smile unlike any other in the world.
The moment she saw me, it widened automatically, as if she had been expecting me all along.
Sarah wasn’t merely the owner of the inn where I stayed.
She wasn’t simply a kind woman who had welcomed us warmly.
She was much more than that.
After my mother died when I was still young, Sarah had filled that silent void.
She taught me.
Supported me.
Made sure I always felt that someone knew my name and was happy to see me.
She never allowed me to feel alone, no matter how much I had lost.
I loved her.
In a way that never needed to be spoken aloud.
But at the same time…
There was a quiet ache hidden beneath the surface.
The thought of Sarah running this entire place alone.
Carrying all that weight by herself.
That was never easy for me to witness without something inside me hurting.
Sarah sat across from me as she always did, gently placing a cup of hot tea on the table.
And the conversation began.
But this time…
Something was different.
I noticed it within seconds.
The smile on Sarah’s face wasn’t her usual warm one.
There was something else in it.
Something sly.
Something that made every instinct in my body wake up as though it sensed danger.
I narrowed my eyes slightly.
“Daron is still asleep…”
Sarah said casually while blowing across her tea.
“…He’s certainly an energetic young man.”
I paused.
Daron?
Why was she suddenly bringing him up first thing in the morning?
I tried to keep my voice calm.
Natural.
“Well…
he works harder than anyone else every day.”
Sarah smiled.
The smile of someone who had found exactly what she was looking for.
Then she lowered her voice slightly.
“He’s a strong man.
Skilled, too.
Someone you can truly rely on.”
Something tightened inside my chest.
I didn’t understand it.
“Well…
he’s always striving to become stronger.
His growth is honestly frightening.”
And then…
Sarah smiled differently.
It was the smile of victory.
Calm.
Controlled.
But unmistakable.
With a hint of hidden amusement, she said,
“He seems quite popular with women.”
I froze.
“What…?”
The word escaped before I could stop it.
Caught off guard, I stammered in a way completely unfamiliar to me.
“What are you talking about, Auntie?
He hasn’t even been here for a month!”
But Sarah didn’t retreat.
If anything, she leaned slightly forward, folding her hands atop the table.
That familiar gleam shone in her eyes—the look of someone who knew more than she was saying.
“Well…
I was certainly surprised when my daughter returned from war with a man.”
Amy’s eyes widened.
“It’s not what you’re thinking, Auntie!
He simply didn’t have a place to stay, and I just showed him here!”
“I see…”
Sarah replied in a suspiciously calm voice.
“But you seem much more lively whenever he’s around.”
…
Silence.
Heat rushed to Amy’s face instantly.
She felt it in her cheeks before she could do anything about it.
Words abandoned her.
So did excuses.
She couldn’t even form a complete sentence.
So she did the only logical thing.
She stood up.
“I just remembered I have work to do today!
Goodbye, Auntie!”
And fled before she could even finish the sentence properly.
But before she made it three steps outside the entrance…
She heard Sarah’s amused whisper behind her.
“Kids these days…
they’re certainly bold.”
Amy stopped for a brief moment.
Her heart was beating far faster than it should have been.
Then she walked even faster.
The cool morning air hit her flushed face the instant she stepped outside.
That helped.
A little.
The streets were still mostly empty at this hour.
Only a few merchants arranging their goods and workers hurrying silently through the alleys.
She began walking without any particular destination.
Or so she told herself.
In reality…
She was running away.
And she knew it.
Running from that conversation.
From that mischievous smile.
From those simple words that had settled somewhere uncomfortable inside her chest and refused to leave.
Every time she pushed them away, they returned.
Sarah’s smile.
“You seem much more lively whenever he’s around.”
Amy shook her head firmly.
“No.”
She kept walking.
But the thoughts wouldn’t stop.
Instead, they grew louder in an irritating silence, like water slowly coming to a boil.
Why did everyone keep associating her with him?
Why had his presence beside her become such an obvious assumption in the minds of everyone who knew them?
Was it really like that?
Had his presence become so natural that she no longer noticed when he started occupying a place inside her…
Inside her…
“No.”
This time she said it out loud.
A nearby old man sitting outside his shop glanced at her strangely.
Amy immediately looked away and quickened her pace.
Eventually, she arrived at the blacksmith’s workshop on the southern side of the market.
The familiar stone building radiated heat from its large window.
The rhythmic sound of hammer striking metal could be heard before she even opened the door.
She stepped inside.
The elderly blacksmith stood near his forge.
His weathered face glistened with sweat.
A small pair of metal spectacles rested on the edge of his nose.
When he saw her, he smiled.
“Welcome—”
Then he stopped.
He looked behind her.
Then back at her.
“What?
You came alone?
Where’s Daron?”
…
Something inside Amy’s patience snapped.
“Why do I always have to be with Daron?!”
The words came out far sharper than she intended.
Though she didn’t apologize.
“I only came to pick up my things!”
The old blacksmith didn’t seem affected in the slightest.
Instead, he looked at her with the eyes of a man who had seen far too much in his life.
Then he smiled and turned around.
From a shelf behind him, he retrieved two leather sheaths with silver fittings.
Her swords.
He placed them on the counter without a word.
Then returned to his work.
“Give my regards to young Daron.”
…
Amy grabbed the swords.
Said nothing.
Left a silver coin on the table.
The air outside somehow felt colder than before.
“Why…”
she muttered without finishing the sentence.
Why did everyone assume that?
She continued walking until she reached the Mercenary Guild.
The massive building stood as imposing as ever, built from dark gray stone with its metal emblem hanging above the entrance.
She stepped inside.
The guild was already moderately busy despite the early hour.
Mercenaries studied the mission board.
Groups talked among themselves.
And then she saw her.
Mary.
Behind her desk as always.
Dark brown hair neatly tied back.
Official dark uniform.
Those sharp, organized eyes Amy knew so well.
Everything else vanished from her thoughts.
She rushed over and pulled Mary into a sudden hug from behind the desk.
“Mary!
I’ve missed you!”
Mary laughed warmly and returned the embrace with one arm.
“I missed you too…”
Then she pulled back slightly and looked Amy over.
Curiosity glimmered in her eyes.
“Are you alone today?”
Amy paused.
“What happened to Daron?”
…
She froze.
Again.
The same question.
The same name.
The same effortless assumption nobody ever seemed to question.
This time, irritation rose much more clearly inside her chest.
“Why does everyone assume I should always be with Daron?!”
Mary looked at her calmly.
Then smiled with an infuriating sort of affection.
“Because the two of you seem extremely close.”
“We’re…
just friends!”
“For now…
yes.”
Mary spoke with the calm certainty of someone giving testimony before a judge.
“But in the future?
Who knows.”
The redness spread all the way to Amy’s ears.
“Mary!
You too?!”
Without waiting for an answer, she turned and left with quick, determined steps.
She spent a long time wandering through the market without any real destination.
Gradually…
Things settled down.
Not because she found answers.
But because physical exhaustion eventually overwhelmed mental noise.
The sun climbed toward the center of the sky.
The market grew crowded.
Food aromas drifted from nearby stalls.
Voices filled the air.
She was hungry.
She was tired.
And she decided to return.
When she entered the inn, warmth greeted her immediately.
The smell of cooking filled the room.
Faint sounds of kitchen utensils came from the back.
Then she saw him.
Daron.
He sat at one of the tables, leaning comfortably against his chair.
His hands rested atop the table.
His gaze was directed toward the entrance.
The moment she walked in, he raised his calm gray eyes and saw her.
Then smiled.
A simple smile.
Natural.
Effortless.
“Hey, Amy.
I was waiting for you so we could have lunch together.”
She froze.
Not because he said anything strange.
But because he hadn’t.
He said it so naturally.
As though it were obvious.
As though waiting for her at lunchtime was simply something that always happened.
And that normality…
Was somehow more unsettling than any carefully chosen words.
She felt her heart.
Beating.
A little faster than usual.
“Can he hear it?”
The thought flashed through her mind like lightning.
For the fourth time that day, her face turned red.
A number she had never reached in her entire life.
“Right…
let’s eat quickly.”
She sat down.
Choosing the chair opposite him, she placed her swords beside her and immediately picked up the menu.
She stared at it with exaggerated concentration, as though studying an important document.
Avoiding his gaze.
But she failed.
She glanced up.
Just once.
Only for a second.
He was reading his own menu with that familiar quiet seriousness, his left eyebrow slightly raised the way it always was whenever he was thinking.
She lowered her head immediately.
And something inside her—
Something shy.
Something embarrassed.
Moved ever so slightly.
“Maybe…”
She stopped the thought before it could fully form.
Then, silently, where no one could hear it, she finished it.
I don’t think he’s that bad after all.