“Well, have fun, Miss Mashiro,” Ai chimed cheerfully, her voice small and musical as she stood on my shoulder, balancing the two lunch boxes with surprising ease. Then, without another word, she leapt into the air and disappeared into the folds of my cloak like a falling leaf vanishing into mist. It was seamless, one moment she was there, and the next, nothing but a faint shimmer remained where her snowy white form had been. I felt the faintest tug of magic across my shoulder, like a cool breeze slipping into my clothes. Then it was gone, quiet, still, as if she had never existed outside of a dream.

  “Tell Yuki I said hi,” I muttered to the quiet space Ai had vanished into. My hand touched the inside of my cloak, where the warm texture suddenly felt… hollow, strange. Like the fabric wasn’t entirely there anymore.

  “Whoa, what happened?” Lyra asked, blinking in wide-eyed amazement. Her steps slowed as she stared at my cloak with a mixture of awe and mild suspicion. “The Sivelle spirit squirrel just disappeared into your cloak! How big is it inside there?”

  “She’s not a squirrel,” I corrected calmly, smiling a little at the common mistake. “She’s a fox spirit. And she just went home.”

  “H-home?” Lyra echoed, still clearly trying to piece it all together as we continued walking side by side. The cobblestone streets of the village clicked softly beneath our boots, and the morning sun filtered through the fluttering banners and paper lanterns overhead. We were headed toward the adventurer guild, not because I had any real plans, but mostly because Lyra seemed like she could use the company, and I didn’t really have anything else going on.

  “Oh,” she said after a moment, nodding as understanding began to dawn on her face. “So that’s the famous fox spatial magic, huh?”

  I gave a half-shrug, half-nod. “More or less.”

  The streets bustled with life as we walked a few hundred meters from the restaurant, our footsteps light against the cobbled path. The town had that familiar early-day rhythm, merchants setting up shop, people bartering for breakfast items, and the faint sounds of a bard playing a lute somewhere in the distance.

  Eventually, we reached our destination: a modest two-story building with a large wooden sign hanging above the entrance. Though I couldn’t read the words engraved in the fantasy script, the symbol of a sword crossed over a quill was enough of a giveaway. It was the Adventurer’s Guild.

  A small terrace extended from the front of the building, framed by a few neatly trimmed shrubs and colorful flowers blooming in rustic clay pots. To the side, there was a simple setup of a round wooden table with three chairs, worn from weather and use but still sturdy. I walked over and ran a hand along the surface before gently sitting down on one of the chairs, the wood creaking slightly under me.

  “Um, should I just wait here?” I asked, glancing up at Lyra as she adjusted the strap of her pouch.

  “Ah yeah, you can have breakfast first,” she replied with a casual wave, already halfway toward the double doors of the guild. “It won’t take long. Just wait for me!”

  I nodded as she disappeared into the building, then reached down to unfasten the wooden box I had ordered earlier. The bento was warm, and the faint scent of buttery eggs and caramelized onions greeted me the moment I opened the lid. My stomach grumbled in approval. I took the first bite, a soft, fluffy omelette with just the right balance of sweetness and savoriness. The texture was light and silky, melting against my tongue.

  While I sat quietly, savoring the last bite of the omelet, my gaze wandered around the bustling room. The steady stream of people coming and going from the building, some in gleaming armor, others draped in weathered robes gave the place a strange but exciting energy. I guessed they were adventurers, judging by the variety of weapons slung across their backs and the faint trace of magic that clung to a few. At first, I thought my dark cloak and solitary presence made me stick out like a sore thumb. But in the chaos of quests and chatter, I realized I wasn’t so out of place after all. This village had a way of making even strangers like me feel like just another piece of the puzzle.

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  Even so, as I finished the last bite of the meal, I felt a twinge of something in my chest. A quiet emptiness, maybe. This was the first time I’d eaten something without familiar company in this world. This time, it was just me. I let out a soft sigh and carefully closed the wooden bento box. Walking to the side, I spotted what looked like a trash bin near the corner, likely for food disposables. I tossed the empty box inside and dusted off my hands.

  Just as I was about to turn around, the door to the guild building swung open, and Lyra came bounding out with something clutched tightly in her hand. She looked unusually proud of herself, her blonde hair bouncing as she walked over to me.

  “I accepted the quest!” she declared, holding up a paper like a prized trophy.

  “Oh? What kind of quest?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

  Lyra grinned. “Cleaning the graveyards.”

  The way Lyra held the paper up like a trophy made me stifle a giggle. She was practically beaming with pride, as if she’d been chosen for a grand quest to slay a dragon or retrieve a mythical sword, not sweep leaves and pick up trash in a cemetery.

  “Cleaning graveyards?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound very… glorious.”

  “Every bit helps,” she puffed her cheeks, clearly defensive. “You wouldn’t believe how nasty some of them get! Besides, with all the ghost stories lately, this kind of job pays better than you think!”

  I tilted my head. “Ghosts?”

  Lyra leaned in slightly, her voice dropping into a whisper. “They say something’s been stirring around the old burial grounds. People hear whispers, footsteps when no one’s around… offerings go missing, and someone swore they saw glowing eyes in the dark.”

  I shivered despite the morning sun warming the village. “Sounds like a perfect quest for a brave elf.”

  She puffed her chest. “Exactly! And maybe a certain mysterious fox girl wants to come along and help me?”

  I crossed my arms, pretending to think hard. “Hmm… I don’t know. I might be too noble and rich to get my hands dirty with ghost-sweeping chores.”

  “Hey!” she pouted, jabbing me lightly in the arm. “You’re the one who looked lonely finishing breakfast all by yourself.”

  “…Touche,” I muttered, flicking her forehead.

  She yelped and rubbed it, but her grin didn’t fade. “So, what do you say?”

  I glanced up at the sky and smiled. “Sure. Let’s go clean some haunted graves.”

  The soft glow from the floating white figure shimmered like mist caught in sunlight. It drifted lazily above the old tombstones, too graceful to be a trick of the light, too solid to be imagination. My eyes narrowed as I leaned forward slightly. “Is that… a ghost?” I muttered under my breath, trying to convince myself that maybe, just maybe, it was just a fluttering sheet or a wayward laundry cloth stuck in the breeze.

  Next to me, Lyra’s voice trembled like a plucked harp string. “It can’t be… right? Ghosts don’t appear during the daytime… right?” She crept closer, then abruptly stopped as her eyes widened and her fingers twitched nervously near her cloak.

  “Wait, so do ghosts even exist?” I asked, squinting as I stepped forward cautiously. My feet crunched softly on the gravel path leading up to the graveyard, a modest, rectangular plot of land with crooked wooden fences and weather-worn tombstones, each one leaning slightly as if burdened by age and memory.

  “No. No, no, no. Ghosts don’t exist,” Lyra muttered to herself, as if saying it aloud could rewrite the rules of the world. She froze just short of the fence line, gripping the edge tightly with pale knuckles. “It must be an undead. That makes more sense. Undead make more sense.”

  I stopped beside her, my brows raised, unsure if I should be comforted or terrified. “Okay, so… what’s the protocol here?” My voice was quiet, trying not to draw the attention of the floating figure beyond the gate.

  “Isn’t that obvious?” Lyra muttered as she reached inside her cloak, fumbling around until she gripped something. With a swift motion, she pulled out what looked like an intricately carved stick, until she chanted a few words under her breath. In an instant, the stick shimmered and twisted, lengthening into a sleek silver bow that glinted ominously in the light.

  I took a step back and gulped. “W-whoa. That’s pretty cool.”

  “Cool?” Lyra hissed, eyes wide with panic. “RUUUUN!!”

  Without another word, she turned on her heel and bolted in the opposite direction, her cloak flapping behind her like a banner of surrender. I stood there dumbfounded for half a second, then instinct took over and I chased after her, kicking up dust and gravel as we sprinted away from the haunted graveyard.

  Behind us, the floating white shape continued to drift silently, completely unbothered by the chaos it had just unleashed.