Sunlight slowly slipped through the little window beside my bed, sending a narrow beam across my face.
I frowned and pulled the blanket over my head.
“No…”
Unfortunately, the sunlight seemed determined to find me.
I turned toward the wall and buried my face into my pillow.
“Five more minutes…”
Outside my window, Cresent Roseville had already begun to wake.
I could hear footsteps passing along the road, wooden shutters being opened, and a rooster crowing far too proudly for that early in the morning.
Somewhere nearby, two villagers were already arguing about something that probably wasn’t important.
It was an ordinary morning.
Yet somehow, it felt different.
My eyes slowly opened again, and I stared at the ceiling for a few moments before remembering why.
My birthday.
My journey.
The farewell celebration.
A smile gradually formed on my face.
“Two more days…”
I rolled onto my back and stretched both arms above my head.
Turning eighteen sounded strangely grown-up, although I wasn’t entirely sure I felt ready to be eighteen.
I had spent the last few weeks pretending that I wasn’t particularly excited about my birthday, but whenever someone mentioned the celebration, my eyes would light up before I could stop myself.
I was terrible at hiding my emotions.
“Only two more days in Cresent Roseville.”
The thought made me smile, but a strange heaviness followed almost immediately.
I turned toward the window.
Beyond the glass were the familiar rooftops of the village, with thin trails of smoke rising from chimneys as the morning sunlight slowly warmed everything around them.
I had seen the same view almost every day of my life.
Perhaps that was why it suddenly seemed so precious.
I wouldn’t be waking up to this view every morning once I left.
“I think I’m going to miss this place.”
I hugged my pillow for a moment before shaking my head.
“No.
I’ll come back.”
I said it firmly, as though saying it aloud could make it a promise.
My hair had become a complete mess during the night.
I tried smoothing it down with both hands, only to make it look worse.
When I glanced at myself in the small mirror hanging beside my bed, I was greeted by a sleepy girl with tangled hair and slightly swollen eyes.
“Elegant traveler, huh?”
I laughed quietly at my reflection.
“Very impressive.”
Eventually, I climbed out of bed.
The wooden floor felt cold beneath my bare feet, and I immediately regretted not putting on my slippers.
My room wasn’t anything special.
There was a simple bed, a small wooden table, an old chair, a wardrobe that had seen better days, and several shelves filled with little things I had collected throughout my childhood.
A smooth stone from the lake.
A dried flower Grandma Martha had given me.
A tiny wooden animal carved by one of the village craftsmen when I was eight.
A ribbon from the first birthday celebration I could remember.
None of them were valuable, but each one carried a memory.
I picked up the little wooden animal and turned it over in my hand.
“Should I bring you?”
I smiled before placing it carefully on the bed.
Then I opened my luggage.
The empty space inside stared back at me.
I stared back at it.
“Right…”
Packing.
I had imagined this would be easy.
It wasn’t.
I needed clothes, food, medicine, a few books, some money, cooking utensils, a water flask, and perhaps a blanket.
Then I noticed my favorite cup sitting on the table.
I picked it up.
“Do I need this?”
I looked at it.
Then at the luggage.
Then back at the cup.
“…Probably not.”
I put it down.
A moment later, I picked it up again.
“Maybe.”
After a brief internal argument, the cup went into the luggage.
The wooden animal followed.
So did the ribbon.
I stared at my belongings and sighed.
“At this rate, I’m going to bring my entire room.”
My stomach suddenly growled.
I froze.
Then it growled again, even louder.
I placed a hand over it.
“…Breakfast.”
With that, I grabbed my outer coat and hurried outside.
The morning air was cool and refreshing.
I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, enjoying the familiar scent of the village.
Fresh bread.
Wood smoke.
Damp earth.
And something sweet drifting through the air.
My stomach immediately reacted.
I knew exactly where that smell came from.
Grandma Martha’s house.
Her kitchen was famous throughout Cresent Roseville, although she would probably smack me with a wooden spoon if I called her a famous chef.
Her croissants were the reason.
They were golden and crisp on the outside, soft and buttery inside, and somehow tasted better than anything sold by the traveling merchants.
I reached her door and knocked twice.
Before I could knock a third time, it opened.
Grandma Martha stood there with flour on one cheek.
She narrowed her eyes at me.
“You’re early.”
I smiled innocently.
“Good morning, Grandma.”
“You’re here for food.”
“I came to visit you.”
She stared at me.
I stared back.
Her expression became increasingly suspicious.
“…Food.”
I burst out laughing.
“Okay, okay.
Maybe a little.”
She stepped aside.
“Come in before the food gets cold.”
I happily entered the house.
The warmth of the kitchen immediately surrounded me.
The table was already covered with breakfast—bread, eggs, fresh fruit, and, most importantly, several freshly baked croissants.
My eyes widened.
“Grandma…”
She immediately pointed a finger at me.
“Don’t.”
“I haven’t even said anything.”
“I know that look.”
I slowly sat down, trying to look innocent.
“What look?”
“The look of someone preparing to ask me for something.”
I pressed my lips together to stop myself from laughing.
She knew me too well.
“Fine.”
I picked up a croissant.
“Could you bake some more of these?”
“For what?”
“For my journey.”
Her hands paused for just a moment.
The teasing expression on her face softened.
“So it’s really happening.”
I nodded.
“Two more days.”
She sat across from me and watched quietly while I took another bite.
“You’ve been talking about leaving for years.”
“I know.”
“And now that it’s finally happening?”
I lowered the croissant.
My fingers began picking at a small piece of pastry.
“I think I’m excited.”
I smiled, but my voice became quieter.
“Although I’m a little scared too.”
Grandma Martha’s expression softened.
“That’s normal.”
“What if I don’t know what to do?”
“You’ll learn.”
“What if I get lost?”
“You probably will.”
I looked up sharply.
“Grandma!”
She laughed.
“What?
You asked.”
“You’re supposed to encourage me.”
“I am encouraging you.”
“By telling me I’ll get lost?”
“Yes.”
She pushed another croissant toward me.
“Because you’ll eventually find your way again.”
I stared at her for a moment before smiling.
“You’re weird.”
“So are you.”
I laughed, and soon she joined me.
For a while, we simply ate together.
There was something comforting about mornings like this.
No grand conversations were necessary.
I didn’t need to explain how much the village meant to me, and Grandma Martha didn’t need to tell me that she would miss me.
We both knew.
When breakfast was nearly finished, Grandma Martha disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a cloth bag.
“Here.”
I looked inside.
Croissants.
A lot of them.
My eyes widened.
“Grandma, that’s too many.”
“They’re for your journey.”
“All of these?”
“Unless you plan to eat them before you leave.”
I hugged the bag against my chest.
“I promise I’ll save them.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“You ate three while I was talking.”
I froze.
“…That was before the promise.”
She laughed so loudly that I couldn’t help laughing with her.
After helping her clean the table, I returned home to finish preparing my luggage.
But the village was already much livelier than it had been earlier.
Today was the day the traveling merchants and travelers passed through Cresent Roseville.
They usually arrived every few weeks, bringing cloth, food, tools, jewelry, books, herbs, and all kinds of strange things I had only heard about from travelers.
For someone preparing to leave the village, today was perfect.
I hurried toward the village square.
I heard the sound of wagon wheels before I reached it.
Several caravans were entering through the main road, their horses moving slowly while merchants called greetings to the villagers.
Children immediately gathered around them, pointing excitedly at colorful decorations hanging from one of the wagons.
I smiled as I stepped into the square.
It felt completely different from yesterday.
Busy, noisy, and alive.
I walked between the stalls, looking at everything with curiosity.
“Maybe I should buy a proper map.”
I stopped at a merchant’s table where several maps were spread across the wooden surface.
I leaned closer.
There were drawings of mountains, rivers, cities, forests, and kingdom borders.
My eyes widened.
“This world is really big…”
I traced one of the roads with my finger.
Cresent Roseville looked incredibly small compared with everything surrounding it.
A mixture of excitement and nervousness stirred inside me.
“Where should I go first?”
The merchant noticed me.
“First journey?”
I looked up.
He was a middle-aged man with a large beard and a friendly smile.
“Is it that obvious?”
He laughed.
“Only travelers look at maps like they’re trying to memorize the entire world.”
I scratched my cheek.
“Maybe I am.”
“Then don’t.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Trying to memorize everything.”
He pointed toward the map.
“Choose one place.”
“One?”
“One.”
His finger stopped over a large city several days away from Cresent Roseville.
“Start there.”
I leaned closer.
Silvermere City.
The name immediately caught my attention.
“What is it like?”
“Large.
Busy.
Plenty of markets, adventurers, inns, mages, and travelers from all over the kingdom.”
My eyes widened.
“Mages?”
The merchant smiled.
“Now you’re interested.”
“Of course!”
I leaned over the table.
“Are there really magic academies?”
“There are.”
“Real adventurers?”
“Many.”
“What about dragons?”
The merchant paused.
“…Eventually.”
My eyes sparkled.
“Eventually?”
“Don’t chase dragons on your first day.”
I laughed.
“I wasn’t planning to!”
He gave me a doubtful look.
I laughed even harder.
Perhaps traveling really would be fun.
After purchasing the map, I continued exploring the market.
I bought a small leather notebook, a compass, a sturdy water flask, and a few healing herbs.
Then, after nearly twenty minutes of arguing with myself, I finally bought a small silver hairpin shaped like a rose.
I held it up toward the sunlight.
It wasn’t particularly expensive, but I liked it.
The merchant smiled.
“Good choice.”
I carefully pinned it into my hair.
“Does it look okay?”
“Very.”
I touched the little silver rose with my fingertips.
For some reason, I liked the thought of carrying one with me.
A rose from home.
A tiny reminder of Cresent Roseville.
My gaze drifted toward the lake.
From the market, I could barely see it between the houses.
The dream suddenly returned to my thoughts.
The fallen woman.
The two figures.
The man dressed in black.
My fingers unconsciously touched the silver rose in my hair.
Why did that dream keep returning?
Why did I feel such sadness whenever I saw the fallen woman?
And why did the sight of the mysterious man make my heart ache?
I frowned.
“Not today.”
I didn’t want to think about it.
Not when everything around me was so peaceful.
Not when I had only two more days left in the village.
I wanted to remember Cresent Roseville for what it had given me.
Warmth.
Laughter.
A family.
Not nightmares.
So I continued walking through the market.
One familiar face after another greeted me.
“Luciana!”
“Don’t forget to visit us before you leave!”
“Come by tomorrow!”
“I made something for you!”
“Your birthday cake is already being prepared!”
I laughed as I answered everyone.
“Really?”
“Of course!”
My cheeks began to ache from smiling.
Maybe leaving really was going to be harder than I thought.
But perhaps that wasn’t a bad thing.
It meant I had something worth missing.
Something worth returning to.
I looked around the village square once more.
For seventeen years, this had been my entire world.
Soon, it would become the place I had left behind.
And somewhere beyond those familiar hills, a journey was waiting for me.
I didn’t know what I would find.
I didn’t know who I would meet.
I didn’t know how far I would travel.
Most importantly, I didn’t know that my journey had already begun long before I ever decided to leave Cresent Roseville.
Far beyond the noisy village square, beneath the shadow of the trees, a pair of dark eyes quietly followed the girl wearing the silver rose in her hair.
The man remained completely still.
He did not approach.
Not yet.
For now, he was content simply knowing that she was alive.
After waiting a thousand years, a few more days meant nothing.
But this time…
He would be there when she finally stepped beyond Cresent Roseville.