The two of them spent a month in the jolting carriage.
For Eurelia, this month was a constant struggle of physical pain and exhaustion, yet her mind became exceptionally clear from observing the young boy beside her.
The image of the fierce youth from the warehouse, who carried thorns even when near death, gradually faded during this long journey, revealing an inner self that was closer to his actual age.
Hellen was indeed clever. He had a good memory and was knowledgeable in noble etiquette, mineral identification, basic swordsmanship, and even the distribution of power across the continent. He had clearly received a strict and System-based education.
However, his way of thinking, his understanding of worldly affairs, and even certain emotional reactions still carried a directness and clumsiness belonging to a fourteen-year-old boy, hidden deep within his heart.
That aristocratic way of life—of cold analysis and assessing the situation—was more like a shell of feigned strength he tried to wrap around himself. Because of his age and experience, it often looked ill-fitting and full of holes.
Sometimes, while spacing out as she watched Hellen’s profile, another face would abruptly flash through Eurelia’s mind—the red-haired young man who had not yet awakened the Hero’s Bloodline.
Before everything happened, that man had been a presence as reassuring as a mountain. He was gentle with others, steady in his work, and very close to her.
When she stayed up late organizing supplies, Loranster would conveniently place a cup of warm milk by her hand and express concern for her health.
He would call her Lia. The tenderness in his voice had been her best solace when she was tired, giving her a sense of intimacy that belonged only to her—even more so than Vera’s calls.
His calmness and decisiveness were like those of a lead surgeon on an operating table, incredibly precise after weighing all the pros and cons.
Under him, you always knew your position and task. Even if it was dangerous, there was a sense of security knowing someone had your back.
That once-reliable Guard Captain… she didn’t know when those calls of “Lia” had vanished, replaced by the four detached syllables of “Eurelia.”
It was also from that time that Loranster became taciturn and cold, displaying a sense of neglect and rejection toward her that came from the bottom of his heart.
Finally… there were those two merciless sentences that had completely shattered her heart into pieces.
And now… she had to create that once-reassuring sense of security with her own hands. For herself, and for the boy beside her who was trying so hard to imitate an adult.
***
When the carriage jolted violently and he accidentally bumped his wound, tears would instantly spring to his eyes, but he would quickly suck them back in and pretend to look at the scenery outside.
When the driver handed over a piece of rye bread so hard it could break a tooth, Hellen would instinctively show a look of disgust. He would then immediately realize something, restrain himself, and awkwardly struggle to take small bites.
Occasionally, he would wake up from a nightmare at night, shrinking into a corner and hugging his knees. His orange eyes would widen blankly in the darkness for a long time before finally refocusing and regaining his composure.
He also completely stopped calling her “Eurelia,” instead becoming thoroughly accustomed to the name “Sister Lia.”
As this title came from his mouth, it gradually shed its initial hesitation and caution, becoming more natural and even carrying a hint of dependency that he hadn’t noticed himself.
Now, this dependent call of “Sister Lia” felt like a burden suddenly dropped onto her shoulders. She had become the person to be relied upon, yet the image of Loranster’s broad and reassuring back always surfaced in her mind.
He had once been her pivot point, but now, she had to become someone else’s pivot point without having one of her own.
The realization brought not just heaviness, but also a sourness mixed with resentment and grievance.
Why did the person who once gave her the strength to lean on eventually become the reason she had to face all this alone?
“Sister Lia, it looks like the water skin is almost empty.”
“Sister Lia, those clouds outside look like it’s going to rain.”
“Sister Lia, does the wound on your neck still hurt?”
Hellen’s questions were very trivial and his tone was ordinary, but he asked them quite frequently.
Sometimes, when Eurelia was resting with her eyes closed or concentrating on her plans for Twilight City, she could feel that gaze from beside her quietly falling on her.
He would hesitate to speak, and in the end, it would only turn into a soft call.
At first, Eurelia wasn’t quite used to it. Thoughts like “Why does this kid have so many questions,” “Can you let my brain have some peace,” or “Are you getting more and more practiced at calling me that?” would occasionally pop up in her mind.
But she soon realized that this was perhaps Hellen’s way of expressing trust and seeking a sense of security.
After losing his family, his guards, and everything familiar, Hellen had instinctively reached out for the only thing he could grasp on this displaced, uncertain road of flight.
That was her—the strange girl who had appeared halfway and saved him, asking for nothing in return, and whose words were free of excessive hypocrisy or pleasantries.
[I’ve been hearing this kid call me “Sister” every day lately, and I’ve… actually gotten a bit used to it? Clearly, I was the one who used to do the calling!]
Eurelia couldn’t help but think of Vera again. Her eyes darkened, and she hurriedly shook the thought out of her head.
[…I hope I don’t run into anyone from the Holy Radiance Sword in the future. Otherwise, that old bastard will definitely start yapping again, trying to tempt me to fall into depravity in my head…]
Thus, she turned her gaze back to the boy who was leaning against the window, staring blankly at the scenery outside.
She had to admit that seeing that youthful face, combined with the increasingly pleasant sound of “Sister Lia,” her initial intention of keeping him steady purely for the sake of benefit had unconsciously settled into a more concrete… sense of responsibility.
Even if she didn’t yet have the strength to protect others or an environment to provide warmth, as long as she worked hard and was willing to believe…
[Hard work pays off! The Ancestor’s words are definitely correct!]
***
So, after Eurelia had repeatedly fed herself a month’s worth of “chicken soup for the soul,” the carriage finally drove into a relatively flat valley. The towering silhouette of Twilight City was clearly visible in the fading twilight, far more oppressive than the blurry shadow it had been a few days ago.
The grayish-black city walls were high and ancient, stretching toward both ends of the horizon, with countless buildings growing haphazardly upward within the walls.
“It really is an incredible city…” Eurelia sighed softly as she gazed at the massive, chaotic, and oppressive silhouette in the distance.
“Yes! Sister Lia!” Hellen, who had been leaning against the window, immediately turned his head. His face carried a surge of excitement and an eagerness to share his knowledge, his orange eyes sparkling in the dusk.
“This is Twilight City! It sits in front of the River of Loss. That river is very wide and leads all the way to the western ocean, so water transport is very convenient. Behind it is an open plain, and several important trade routes intersect here, leading to the borders and several other duchies…”
He spoke quite quickly. Even if he had only been here twice, his level of understanding was clearly more than the “little bit” he had claimed.
“It mainly survives on trade; it’s the largest merchant capital in this region! Many rare things, whether on the surface or in the shadows, can be found here if you know where to look.”
“However, because of that, there are many small mercenary groups and adventurer teams stationed or staying in the city and its surroundings. The population flow is huge, with tens of thousands of people entering and leaving every day.”
“Ah, but the guards are also very strict because of that, especially with new faces.”
Mentioning this, Hellen looked at Eurelia again and asked cautiously, “Sister Lia, did your former team… issue a Pope’s Pursuit Order for you? Or… some other kind of private bounty?”
“…Pope’s Pursuit Order? I haven’t… heard of anything like that.” Eurelia rubbed her long black hair, her face showing confusion. She could guess what it was, but after being driven out of the camp, she had run away immediately. Then she had run to the warehouse, met Hellen, and boarded this carriage.
Hellen looked at the mixture of confusion and indifference on Eurelia’s face, then at her coarse cloth dress, which had become even more tattered and stained with dirt during the long journey.
Given their current situation, Eurelia’s current appearance would be a major problem in a place as mixed as Twilight City.
A girl who looked destitute, disheveled, and so suggestive of misfortune was naturally prone to attracting unwanted gazes—whether from thugs, patrolling guards, or other ill-intentioned individuals.
“It’s a good thing there’s no public bounty. At least it saves us one layer of trouble.”
***
He paused, his gaze quickly shifting away from Eurelia. His ears felt slightly hot, but he tried to keep his tone calm and practical.
“But, Sister Lia, after we enter the city… I’m afraid we must find a way to change our outfits as soon as possible. Your clothes… are really too conspicuous. Walking around the city is neither safe nor… convenient.”
Eurelia followed his gaze and looked down at herself. She tugged at her sleeve, which was nearly falling apart, and let out a bitter smile.
“Ahaha… True…”
[This little brother has a point. In my current state, I might as well have a sign hanging over my head saying ‘I am a destitute girl, waiting for a kind soul to lead me astray.’ Although… I already have a plan for changing clothes.]
She then looked up, her gaze scanning the carriage before finally landing on several empty burlap sacks in the corner used for carrying cargo.
the sacks were large and made of thick, coarse material. Although they were covered in dust and unidentified stains, they were intact and… free.
Her eyes lit up. She reached out and grabbed two of the relatively cleaner sacks, shaking off the dust. “Let’s make do with these for now.”
Hellen looked at the burlap sacks, which emitted a smell of aged grain and dust. A flash of shock appeared in his eyes, followed by confusion. “Sister Lia, what are you…?”
“Temporary outfits.” Eurelia spoke succinctly as she began measuring with her hands.
“Look, cut a hole in the middle for your head to go through, then cut a hole on each side for your arms. Tie it at the bottom with a rope or strips of torn cloth, and isn’t it just a simple robe?”
“It might be ugly, but at least it covers everything up, and you can’t see the original figure or the tattered clothes underneath. Also…” She tugged at the burlap. “This thing can double as a blanket at night. Two birds with one stone.”
Hellen watched as Eurelia began trying to cut holes in the sack with her small knife. His lip twitched slightly.
Using cargo sacks to make clothes… this was completely outside his understanding of his past fourteen years as a noble, and it surpassed the lowest limits of anything he had ever done.
But logic told him that Sister Lia was right.
When penniless and facing an uncertain future, this was the most economical and inconspicuous solution. Ugly? Indecent? Compared to staying alive, none of that mattered, right?
“…Alright.” He suppressed the slight awkwardness stemming from his past upbringing and reached out for a sack, beginning to fiddle with it just as Eurelia was doing.
“Entering the city like this… won’t the guards find it more suspicious?” Two people in rags versus two people draped in burlap—it seemed the latter would be more likely to be stopped for questioning.
The knife in Eurelia’s hand sliced a hole in the burlap with a crisp, decisive movement. Without looking up, she countered with a question.
“Then do you think, in a place where tens of thousands of people enter and leave every day, a girl in rags together with a boy who is also in rags but still wearing the remnants of noble styles and embroidery is more suspicious? Or two teenage refugees who are so poor they can only wrap themselves in burlap and look like they have nowhere else to go?”
Hellen opened his mouth but then closed it. After a bit of thought… he finally nodded, abandoning the idea of not wearing the burlap sack. “…I understand.”
The carriage moved slowly through the twilight, getting closer and closer to that towering grayish-black wall. They could even see the flickering torches on the gate towers and the silhouettes of guards moving about. Scattered shanties and denser crowds of pedestrians began appearing by the roadside.
Eurelia signaled the driver to stop at a secluded corner a short distance from the city gate. “Mister, this is fine. Thank you for your hard work.”
The driver grumbled something, likely confused about why they were getting off early, but he didn’t ask much. After all, the fare had long been paid, and after tasting Eurelia’s varied cooking over the past month, he had nothing to complain about.
“Well then… you two stay safe. I won’t see you off.”
After thanking him again, the two of them hopped lightly off the carriage, moved quickly into the shadows, and headed toward the gates of Twilight City.
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