The old wooden cart had long disappeared behind them, swallowed by the quiet hum of village life. Fifteen minutes had passed since Fayrouz, the girl with long black hair and a blue blindfold, entered Petita Village. She moved through its modest marketplace with unhurried steps, her presence like a shadow slipping between the wooden stalls. The scent of ripe fruit and fresh bread still lingered in the air, though the morning rush had long since faded. Now, only a few vendors remained, tending to their goods under the waning heat of the midday sun.

  Behind her, Fulan followed at a measured distance, his boots kicking up small puffs of dust with each step. The dirt road beneath him was uneven, worn smooth in places by years of passing carts and villagers. He stole a glance at Fayrouz’s flowing hair, his thoughts turning inward.

  What exactly is this situation? I look like I’m stalking her.

  Yes, this was the shortest path to the village’s eastern gate, but walking directly behind her felt… awkward. He considered taking a different route, maybe cutting through a side alley, but that would only waste time.

  No, I’m doing the right thing. She probably doesn’t even know I’m here because of that blindfold.

  Just as that comforting thought settled, Fayrouz spoke without turning around.

  "Your name is Fulan, right?"

  Fulan sighed. So much for going unnoticed.

  "It’s not like I’m following you or anything," he said, his tone calm but slightly defensive.

  Fayrouz tilted her head slightly, her voice carrying no trace of concern. "Why would you? Isn’t this the shortest path to the gate?"

  Her straightforwardness caught him off guard. Most people in her position might have assumed something questionable, but she seemed entirely unbothered.

  "When I heard you call yourself a future knight," he said, "I assumed you were heading to Ragandarok Academy to take the entrance exam."

  Fayrouz turned her head forward again. "Really? When I heard you were going to Ragandarok Academy, only one thing came to mind: you’re definitely going to fail the entrance exam."

  Fulan’s brow twitched. His expression remained neutral, but his patience thinned.

  "And what makes you assume that?"

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  "The Menma flowing through your veins," she replied without hesitation. "It has no distinct color. This is the first time I’ve seen something like it. It’s as if you have no unique trait."

  Fulan glanced at his palm, flexing his fingers. To his eyes, his skin looked normal—just pale, nothing strange.

  "I’m surprised you can see the particles of Menma," he said quietly. "I’ve heard only a handful of people in this world can do that. Are you from a noble clan or something?"

  Fayrouz walked in silence for a few moments before responding. "I’m just a village girl. Do you think a noble girl would ride in that rickety cart without even having money to pay?"

  Fulan let out a short chuckle. "Fair point."

  The quiet returned between them, broken only by the soft crunch of their footsteps against the dry earth. The further they walked, the more the village faded behind them. The path leading to the eastern gate stretched ahead, flanked by a few wooden homes, their rooftops thatched with dried straw. In the distance, the faint sound of a blacksmith’s hammer echoed through the air.

  After ten minutes, they reached the village’s other gate—the exit that led to the untamed roads beyond. Two guards stood at their post, their simple armor marked with the crest of the Kingdom of Saita. The sunlight gleamed off the dull iron of their spears, but their postures were relaxed, as if nothing much ever happened here.

  Before Fulan and Fayrouz could pass through, one of the guards stepped forward, raising a hand. His tone was firm but not aggressive.

  "Hold on. The road between Petita Village and Saikono Village isn’t safe right now. It’s better for you to turn back and take the main road to the Kingdom of Saita. That route is secure."

  Fulan met the guard’s gaze, his voice calm yet unwavering. "Going back and taking the main road will take us more than a full day. I don’t have that kind of time."

  The guard’s expression hardened. "I’m speaking for your own good. There’s a band of highway robbers controlling this road. We’ve been waiting for the knights to arrive for some time now. You can either wait here in the village or take the main road."

  His words made it clear—their path ahead was blocked, at least as far as these guards were concerned. But neither Fulan nor Fayrouz had any intention of turning back.

  Fayrouz spoke, her voice carrying a quiet confidence. "I’m a future knight. That’s why I’ll see what I can do about this problem myself."

  The guards exchanged glances, their skepticism plain. One of them, slightly older than the other, let out a heavy sigh before speaking.

  "A future knight?" His gaze swept over her. "All I see is a girl who looks about sixteen or seventeen. Letting you pass through this gate would be like sending you to your death."

  His expression darkened slightly. "And you’re a girl, after all. Your body would be like prey to those bandits. This guy"—he gestured to Fulan—"will suffer less because they’ll just kill him. But you… well, you know what I mean."

  For the first time in their conversation, an edge crept into his voice. It wasn’t just concern—it was the grim reality of the world they lived in.

  But before Fayrouz could reply, Fulan walked past the gate. He didn’t spare the guard a glance, nor did he slow his pace. His silence spoke louder than words.

  The guard’s frustration flared. "Hey—!"

  Fayrouz, unfazed, followed Fulan without hesitation, stepping through the gate as if the warning hadn’t even been spoken.

  The only sound left in their wake was the exasperated voice of the guard.

  "I’ve done my duty and warned you! Seriously, why are young people so stubborn these days?"