The trio lingered near the newly built watchtower, their shadows long and flickering in the orange glow of the bonfire. The children had finally collapsed into sleep after hours of wearing Boris down with endless games, their soft breathing drifting through the orphanage house like a lullaby. Even the villagers had surrendered to exhaustion, their tools leaned against the half-finished walls.

  The night was cold—colder than the capital should’ve been. The winter air bit at their cheeks, and the smoke from the fire clung stubbornly to their cloaks.

  Suri huddled closer to the flames, her red hair shimmering with each crackle of burning wood. Her voice broke the silence. “No signs of the scarecrow.”

  “Doesn’t mean much,” Boris muttered. He was gripping the shaft of his spear like he expected it to sprout fangs. “What happened before… it might happen again.” His eyes scanned the dark beyond the wall, as if expecting the stitched monsters to shuffle out of the treeline at any moment.

  Kana didn’t look away from the fire. The flames reflected in her eyes, sharp and unyielding. “Then we need to be stronger.” She drew in a breath, exhaling white vapor. “And smarter. No more rushing in blind. From now on, we must not hesitate.”

  Kana finally turned her gaze away from the fire, looking past the walls toward the quiet forest beyond. “Tomorrow, we’ll visit Pit.” Her tone carried no room for debate. “The scarecrows worry me.”

  Boris grunted, though not in disagreement. “Feels like they’re hunting us. Always knowing where to find us.”

  Suri’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Whoever’s behind them… their skill is like mine.” She lifted her hand, twisting her fingers as threads of faint mana danced between them—thin as hair, fragile-looking, yet alive. “Except more insidious. Almost invisible. They weave lines of mana so fine it hides even from my sight. I don’t know how, but it has to be a skill.”

  The fire popped, scattering sparks into the cold night.

  Kana’s hand tightened on her blade’s hilt. Her words came low, determined. “Then we’ll find him. That scarecrow master.”

  None of them spoke for a while after that. The bonfire hissed as a log collapsed into glowing embers. Above, the sky stretched black and endless, broken only by cold stars. And somewhere, unseen, the world watched back.

  …..

  Morning came quiet, the air sharp with winter’s bite seeping through the orphanage walls. Kana sat by the desk with a stack of books—her mother’s collection, though the bindings looked newer than the ones she grew up with. Likely bought off merchants who passed through the capital. The smell of old paper mingled with bread baking somewhere nearby.

  Lily appeared beside her, setting down a glass of milk with a soft clink.

  Kana didn’t look up. “I’m not a kid, Mother.”

  “You look the same to me.” Lily smiled faintly, ruffling her daughter’s hair before Kana could dodge. “Drink it.”

  Kana sighed, but her fingers tightened around the spine of the book.

  “That’s a good one,” Lily noted, nodding at the title in Kana’s lap. “Very rare. The empires use it to identify and guide their awakened.”

  “Must be why they’re the strongest nation on the continent,” Shar added from the kitchen, sleeves rolled up as she fried eggs and laid out bread.

  Kana’s brow furrowed. The empire wasn’t wrong—their system had discipline, clarity. But starting only at eighteen or twenty? That was too late, a lot of wasted time. Still… their research impressed her. Pages on skill progression, careful guides on what to do once one reaches level ten. A kind of handbook for adulthood in a world where most people get level ten in their thirties or forties.

  One by one, the children stirred awake. Small footsteps padded across the floorboards, followed by sleepy yawns. Boris stretched noisily, arms above his head, while Suri stumbled out last, hair a tangled mess and eyes barely open.

  Stolen story; please report.

  A knock at the door drew all eyes. When it opened, the man in the white cloak stepped through.

  “Sir Monde,” Lily greeted. “Would you like to eat with us?”

  “Thank you,” Monde replied with a polite dip of his head. “I already ate before I came.” His presence seemed to cool the room, quieting even the children. The cloak’s fabric caught the light strangely, almost too white.

  For some reason, he looked directly at Kana. “Come with me. I’ll explain how the barrier works.”

  …..

  Kana turned the black stone over in her palm as the wagon rocked along the half-frozen road. Its surface drank the morning light rather than reflected it, smooth and faintly warm despite the winter air. She couldn’t feel any flow of mana within it, no pulse, no rhythm. And yet she knew—had seen—the way it anchored itself into the ground, drawing lines unseen to erect the barrier around the orphanage.

  The thought left her unsettled. She had studied enough about mana, the logic behind most skills. But this… this was different. Divine skills bent the rules. They weren’t bound to stamina, to mana, or to the physical limits that guided humans. This divine skill was like a law given form: unshakable, unbreakable.

  She clenched her fingers around it. For now, the children are safe.

  A few villagers had stayed behind to finish the wall, their silhouettes fading behind the frost-dusted trees as the wagon creaked onward. Aldo, always dependable, would guard them in the meantime. It was enough—though Kana knew enough never truly lasted.

  She exhaled and slid the stone into her pocket. “Where is Roa now?”

  “Oh she’s..” Suri sat cross-legged in the wagon bed, arms wrapped around her knees. She tapped her lip in thought, then her expression brightened. “She’s either tangled in some kind of quest or in need of coin… she’s currently selling snacks in the central district.”

  Her voice softened into a near-whisper, then she licked her lips. “They look delicious, too.”

  Boris groaned. “You’re thinking with your stomach again.”

  Suri giggled, unbothered. But Kana only stared out the side of the wagon, the faint buildings of the central district beginning to rise on the horizon.

  ….

  Roa sold another snack to a bundled passerby, coins clinking softly into her pouch. She barely glanced at the exchange; her eyes had already drifted elsewhere. Across the street, the expensive restaurant gleamed beneath frosted windows, golden light spilling out like a taunt. She’d counted the third nobleman stepping in this hour.

  She exhaled, a faint puff of steam curling into the cold air. Some of her customers hadn’t paid her at all—slipping snacks from the stall with nothing but sheepish grins. She let it slide. A few coppers lost were still better than being forced to use her [Camouflage] in broad daylight. It would exhaust her and she was not here in the first place to sell anything.

  The mission this time was simple. Boring. Normal. A noble’s wife wanted confirmation—whether her husband had taken up with a new mistress. No blades, no blood. Just a name. Work she could do blindfolded.

  Then her mark appeared: a young woman in her twenties, brown hair curled carefully beneath a jeweled headdress, her gown layered with gold-thread embroidery and far too much jewelry.

  I need to get close.

  Roa shifted, adjusting her scarf, ready to melt into the crowd. But before she could move, a hand landed on her shoulder. Firm. Heavy enough to pin her in place.

  Her breath caught.

  “We’re closing the shop now!” she whispered automatically, forcing the line she’d practiced for her mission.

  But the voice that came wasn’t her handler’s. It was colder, sharper—enough to turn her blood to ice.

  “We’re not here to buy.”

  She froze. Slowly, she turned her head.

  No. It can’t be.

  Her face was drained of color. You… you’re still alive? She almost slipped up.

  Boris grinned at her, boyish and infuriatingly casual. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  She forced a smile. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her stall. “Yes. What is it?”

  Kana stepped forward, her eyes steady, cutting right through Roa. “We want to hire Pit.”

  Roa blinked. “Why?”

  Suri was the one who answered, leaning casually against the stall, her red hair catching the winter light. “Someone is trying to kill us. And we can’t find them.” Her tone was light. Too light, as if discussing what to eat for lunch instead of assassination.

  Roa coughed into her scarf to hide the sudden dryness in her throat.

  Suri’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I… well.” Roa swallowed, then straightened. “I’ll ask my boss first.”