MTM 142

“Harto.”

Zed called his name as he stepped into the room. He immediately looked toward the window, and saw Harto sleeping with his back against the windowsill and the rabbit cradled in his arms.

Outside, night had fallen and it was pitch black; inside, only the soft glow of Spi’s flames illuminated the room like a campfire.

Zed approached cautiously so as not to disturb Harto’s peaceful slumber. Fortunately, the elementals made no commotion; instead, they simply followed Zed’s movements with their gaze.

Zed approached Harto and looked at his face. His skin was flawless and smooth, so much so that it was hard to believe he was the same age as Zed.

How could anyone call a being with such a pure and innocent soul… a “walking disaster,” as the Seeker had put it? To Zed, Harto was simply a precious soul.

“Hmm… Zed…?”

“You’re awake.”

Harto’s eyes fluttered open at the sound. Feeling guilty, Zed gently brushed his soft black hair aside.

“Did you have a good talk?”

When Harto asked in a sleepy voice, Zed smiled softly and pulled him into his arms. Startled by the movement, Sleepy, who had just woken up, jumped down to the floor.

“Yes, it’s a little late.”

“No. Leon’s writing a letter right now.”

Harto took Zed’s hand and pointed to the next room. He must be absorbed in his work, as no sound could be heard except for the light seeping through the crack in the door.

“Pipit!”

Just then, Spi recoiled in surprise upon seeing Sleepy approaching him. The curious Sleepy had sniffed his way right up to Spi. But because the distance was too close; the tip of Sleepy’s whiskers touched the flame and ended up getting singed.

“Pipit?!”

Flustered, Spi didn’t know what to do and tried to lower the flames, but Sleepy paid no heed and wiggled his hips to get closer to Spi again. Sleepy’s sparkling blue eyes were filled with nothing but curiosity.

“Pyut!”

“Krng!”

Mir and Krim decided this wouldn’t do, they stepped in front of the reckless Sleepy to block the way. Despite this, Sleepy continued to sniff the air and look for an opening. Since it didn’t seem particularly dangerous, Harto decided to just watch the scene unfold. In fact, the sight of the little ones huddled together and wrestling was simply adorable.

Zed, who had been watching the commotion alongside Harto, chuckled and said,

“That little guy looks just like you.”

“Huh? Me?”

Startled by Zed’s unexpected remark, Harto’s eyes widened and he turned his head. Zed poked his soft cheek with his finger and continued in a soft voice.

“You’re timid, yet you find the courage in the strangest places. Even the way you charge in without caring at all if you get hurt.”

“Is that… a, a way of calling me an idiot?”

As Harto pouted, Zed’s affectionate gaze lingered on his blue eyes.

“No. And people sometimes call such people ‘saints’.”

“A saint…?”

Harto’s cheeks turned bright red.

“W-well! I-I’m not really that kind of person…”

“To me, Harto is exactly that. Even if sometimes you’re so transparent it’s a problem.”

At the word “transparent,” Harto’s expression stiffened slightly. He knew that wasn’t what he meant. But he couldn’t help the stinging sensation in his heart.

‘Would Zed… say that even if he knew I was a Hartiros? Could he… truly understand me?’

Even though he knew it was a secret Zed must never discover, Harto found himself swept up in a dangerous impulse to confess everything while nestled in that warm embrace.

‘Maybe…’

Ever since he’d fallen in love with Zed, such thoughts would surface unexpectedly. The guilt of hiding his true identity from him always held him back. Moreover, now that he was peeling back the layers of the secret surrounding the Fragments of the Demon God, he wondered if it might actually be best for everyone if he spoke up first, rather than having Zed eventually face a truth he couldn’t bear.

Knock, knock.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door. When he opened the door, a priest announced that dinner was ready and would escort them to the dining hall.

“Huh? Zed, when did you get here?”

Leon, who had been engrossed in a letter inside the room, also came out. As the three of them followed the priest out of the room, Sleepy let go of his obsession with Spi and slipped inside the hood of Harto’s cloak. Then he chewed on the leftover carrot piece with gusto.

***

On a night shrouded in pitch-black darkness, at an inn on the outskirts of Carseon Castle. Allen flopped onto the bed. He was completely exhausted.

“Wow…! I never thought they’d be this stubborn…”

“What?”

In response to Allen’s sigh, Ser, who had just finished washing up, asked while drying his wet hair with a towel.

“The moonshine, the moonshine! I looked high and low, but there’s none to be found. They call it the Holy Kingdom, but does God not even drink wine? How can this be…?”

As Allen stamped his feet and grumbled, Ser glanced out the window; he gave him a look that suggested he keep his voice down in case someone outside might hear.

“It might be because we were out during the day. Things could be different at night.”

Ser spoke to Allen in a soothing voice.

As soon as they unpacked their bags at the inn, the two immediately set out to scour the area around the village. Fortunately, the area was safe, so there was no need for them to stick together. After a quick meal, they decided to split up and gather information on their own.

Their original objective was to find a clue regarding the “Fragments of the Demon God,” but for Allen, securing “moonshine” was just as important a matter.

“Is that so? Ugh, I have to drag this tired body out again at night…”

Allen sighed and rolled around on the bed, then suddenly turned his head and stared at Ser.

“What’s wrong?”

Faced with his piercing gaze, Ser raised one eyebrow.

“You said it yourself last time. Why don’t we actually try brewing alcohol using alchemy? You said it was possible.”

“…It’s possible, I suppose. But I doubt we can find enough ingredients here. And have you forgotten the original reason we came here?”

Allen reluctantly sat up, “I know, I know.” Then he pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his bosom and unfolded it. At first glance, it looked like a hastily scribbled map.

“What’s that?”

Ser’s eyes narrowed when the guy who’d been rambling about alcohol all night suddenly pulled out a suspicious-looking object.

“I took a quick look around outside earlier, and apparently there’s a huge vineyard nearby.”

“You really….”

He had expected as much. Ser frowned, wondering if Allen was planning to make his own wine this time.

“Hey, you should at least hear me out. Do you know who owns that vineyard? Good heavens… they say it’s run by a ‘witch’?”

“A witch?”

Ser’s hand, which had been brushing back his wet hair, froze. A witch? Weren’t they beings shrouded in mystery, as elusive as demons, whom one might encounter only once in a lifetime?

In the past, witches had been branded as subversive beings who committed blasphemy and were mercilessly hunted down; as a result, only a handful had survived. Since their presence anywhere on the continent was a cause for alarm, it was believed that the surviving witches lived in hiding deep within forests or on remote islands.

“Besides, the rumors about that witch are quite extraordinary.”

Allen fluttered the map and gave a meaningful smile.

“What kind of rumors? If you’re talking about alcohol again…”

“They say that witch has lived for nearly 300 years. And apparently, she’s been going around bragging that she personally helped seal the Demon King?”

Unexpected information came from Allen’s mouth, which had been rambling about alcohol just moments ago.