The rickety cart continued its slow, uneven journey toward Petita Village, its wheels groaning with each turn on the dusty, sunbaked road. The midday heat pressed down like an invisible hand, thick and stifling. Inside, the young man with messy black hair clenched his fists, focusing all his willpower on keeping his stomach under control. The last thing he wanted was to vomit on the girl still lying motionless across from him.

  The journey dragged on for another forty-five minutes before the cart finally neared the village gates. The scenery shifted from endless fields of golden crops and wildflowers to a more structured landscape—wooden fences lined the road, marking the outskirts of farmland. The scent of freshly turned soil mixed with the distant aroma of bread baking in stone ovens, signaling that civilization was close.

  As the cart came to a slow halt, the old driver let out a satisfied sigh before climbing down, stretching his back with a soft groan.

  “We made it before one o’clock. Good timing, don’t you think?” His voice carried a lighthearted tone, as if the rough journey had been nothing more than a leisurely ride.

  The young man jumped down from the cart, his boots hitting the dry earth with a dull thud. He glanced up at the sky, shielding his eyes from the blazing sun. The heat radiating off the ground made the air shimmer, distorting the edges of the village walls in the distance.

  “We left at nine-thirty,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m surprised you’re this optimistic.”

  The old man chuckled, patting one of his horses on the neck. “Aren’t you going to wake your friend?” he asked, nodding toward the cart.

  The young man turned his gaze toward the wooden window. The girl with the long black hair and blue blindfold was still lying there, completely still, as if the cart’s relentless jolting had never affected her.

  “I don’t know her,” he admitted flatly.

  The old man raised a bushy white eyebrow. “Really? I thought you two knew each other since you boarded the cart together.”

  The young man shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Coincidences happen, don’t they?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a metal coin, flipping it toward the old man. “When I said you should replace your horses, I didn’t mean you had to get rid of these two. Buy a couple of foals for work and let these two retire. They deserve to spend their years grazing in peace.”

  The driver caught the coin, his expression momentarily surprised before softening into a warm smile. “Thank you. You’re a kind young man after all.” He hesitated before adding in a quieter tone, “By the way, just out of curiosity… why did you come to this village specifically?”

  The young man answered without hesitation. “I was told this is the closest route to the Kingdom of Saita. I’m aiming to take the entrance exam for Ragandarok Academy.”

  The old man’s eyes widened slightly. He hadn’t expected that his rickety cart might have carried a future student of the prestigious Ragandarok Academy. But before he could respond, one of the village guards, who had overheard the conversation, stepped forward.

  “Who told you this was the right route?” the guard asked, skepticism lacing his voice.

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  The young man turned toward him, unaware of the shift in tone. “Some merchants.”

  The guard stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Merchants, huh? I doubt they misled you on purpose, but they might not have known better. It’s true this road leads to the Kingdom of Saita, but there’s a band of nine highway robbers along the way. Petita Village is safe, but once you leave and try to continue toward the kingdom, no merchant or cart driver will take you. And honestly, can you blame them? No one wants their cart stolen.”

  The air between them grew heavier. The guard, standing near the village gate, remained motionless except for his sharp eyes, watching the young man’s reaction. The old driver, on the other hand, seemed unsurprised—like he had known about the danger all along.

  The young man furrowed his brows. “What about the knights? Isn’t that their job?”

  The guard let out a slow breath, glancing up at the wooden sign above the gate. The words Petita Village were carved into it, worn by years of sun and rain.

  “We’ve already sent a request to the knights, but it’s been forty days, and we haven’t heard back. I didn’t expect them to delay this long… Your only option is to turn back and take the main road, but that’ll take too much time. I’m sorry to say this, but I don’t think you’ll make it to Ragandarok Academy in time. The entrance exam is the day after tomorrow, right? You still need to register tomorrow. It’s going to be tough.”

  The young man remained silent, his gaze fixed on the village sign. His mind was already running through possible solutions when a new voice cut through the tension.

  “Lazy guard, it’s better if you stop trying to blame the knights.”

  Everyone turned to see the girl with the long black hair and blue blindfold approaching. Her voice was calm, yet there was an undeniable authority in it.

  “Do you see that badge on the left side of your chest?” she continued. “It says you’re a recognized guard of the Kingdom of Saita. And, coincidentally, that’s also where your heart is. Didn’t they tell you that means you’re supposed to sacrifice your life to protect this village?”

  The guard’s expression shifted slightly, though he recovered quickly. “Our duty is to protect the village, not the road. Before you blame me, you should know the law better.”

  The girl stopped walking once she reached the young man’s side. Her next words were spoken in the same composed tone.

  “The knights are needed everywhere in the world, every day. If they haven’t arrived here yet, it’s because they’re overwhelmed with work. And since I hate hearing you talk about them like that, I’ll take care of this band of robbers myself.”

  She said it with such casual certainty that, for a moment, the young man found himself wondering—could she really see through that blindfold?

  As if the conversation was already over, she turned toward the village gate. Before she could take another step, the old driver called out gently, “Excuse me, young lady…”

  He held out his hand, expecting payment for the ride.

  In response, the girl pulled a crumpled piece of paper from her sleeve and placed it in his hand. The old man unfolded it, revealing messy handwriting that read:

  "Fayrouz; the future strongest knight in the world."

  The scene was almost comical. The contrast between her dead-serious expression and the ridiculousness of offering a signature instead of payment left both the guard and the young man momentarily speechless.

  The old driver blinked in confusion. “What… is this?”

  “It’s my signature,” she replied confidently. “In three years, I’ll become the strongest knight. When I return, I’ll grant you a special service.”

  The guard couldn’t suppress a chuckle at the unexpected turn of events. Before the old man could react, the young man reached into his pocket, placed a metal coin on top of the paper, and muttered, “Again, thank you for the ride.”

  Fayrouz tilted her head slightly, as if reconsidering something. Then, in an odd move, she plucked the paper back from the old man’s hand and handed it to the young man instead.

  “I’m Fayrouz, a future knight and soon to be the strongest knight in the world.”

  The young man blinked, caught off guard. “I’m… Fulan,” he said automatically, then quickly frowned. “Wait, that’s not what I meant to say. What’s the point of this paper anyway?”

  “It simply means I owe you.”

  Fulan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Are you planning to travel through villages with just this paper? You should carry some actual coins. That’s the law of life.”

  But before he could get a response, Fayrouz was already walking toward the village gate.

  Fulan groaned before following after her. “Hey! I didn’t say I accepted this ridiculous piece of paper!”