Chapter 16 : The Girl Who Followed

Elsewhere, a boy stood aboard a flying boat, scanning the forest below.

He had black hair and eyes as dark as ink, and the loose black robe hanging from his shoulders matched both. Yet there was nothing calm about his expression. Anxiety and urgency were written plainly across his face as he leaned forward, searching every stretch of forest he could see.

For hours, he had been flying around and above the trees, calling out again and again until his voice had grown hoarse.

“Lord Rowan! Where are you?”

He circled back over the same area and called again.

“Lord Rowan! Are you here?”

No answer.

The boy gripped the edge of the boat and frowned.

“Please, answer me!”

He muttered to himself as he continued searching, his eyes moving restlessly across the forest.

“I still haven’t found him. If he really fought the Crimson Flame Mage and the Judgment Sword…”

The thought made him hesitate.

“Could he have been killed?”

He shook his head almost immediately.

“Impossible. But…”

His voice faded, and he stared at the forest in silence for a moment.

“...What do I care?”

He straightened, as though reminding himself of something important.

“I’m just a servant who handles errands and drives the delivery boat.”

That was all he was supposed to be doing. He had no reason to be this worried. At least, that was what he kept telling himself.

Eventually, with no sign of Rowan anywhere below, he brought the flying boat down in a wide, empty stretch of grassland. Once the boat settled, the young man sat aboard it, still grumbling under his breath. His eyes fell on a nearby flower, and he reached down to pluck one of its petals.

“He’s dead.”

Another petal came loose.

“He’s not.”

He plucked another.

“He’s dead.”

He stared at the final petal remaining between his fingers.

For a moment, he hesitated before pulling it free.

“He’s not.”

His eyes widened.

Then he suddenly jumped to his feet and shouted toward the sky.

“Damn it, Lord Rowan! You troublesome bastard! You’d better not be dead!”

Whoosh!

A rock struck him squarely in the back of the head.

The young man staggered forward, clutching the back of his skull.

“Damn it! Who hit me?”

He turned around.

His eyes widened.

“Lord Rowan! I thought you were dead!”

Another rock flew through the air and struck him directly in the forehead.

“Who died, Moras? I was expecting a proper welcome.”

The boy's name was Moras.

He rubbed his forehead and forced a grin.

“Hehe. Welcome back, Lord Rowan! Who could possibly kill the disciple of the Witch Queen?”

Rowan stood before him.

His injuries were no longer severe enough to keep him beneath the tree where he had been recovering. Somehow, after everything that had happened, Moras had finally found him.

And now it was time to leave.

They were on their way back when Rowan suddenly felt something.

A familiar presence.

Weak, but unmistakable.

though weak—so weak that he might have missed it if he had not been paying attention. Yet there was no mistaking it.

Rowan turned his head and followed the feeling.

Moras looked at him curiously.

“My lord?”

Rowan said nothing. He simply moved toward the source of the presence, with Moras following behind.

Before long, they found a pack of wolves gathered together.

Something lay in the middle of them.

A girl.

She was desperately trying to defend herself, crying as the wolves tore into her , but there was almost nothing she could do. Her cries were swallowed by the snarling of the wolves as they tore into her.

One of them bit down on her leg and ripped away a piece of flesh. Another raked her with its claws, leaving fresh wounds across her body.

She was barely alive.

Rowan's eyes settled on her.

A flame shaped like an arrow formed in his hand.

He released it.

The flame shot forward and split into three before reaching the wolves.

The three flames struck their targets.

The wolves writhed as they burned.

But they did not die immediately.

Instead, the flames consumed them slowly, leaving them to experience the pain rather than granting them a quick death.

Hunting and feeding on the weak was one of nature's laws. Rowan knew that. The wolves had only been doing what wolves did.

Yet for some reason, he was angry.

Perhaps he simply needed somewhere to vent the anger that had been building inside him.

His gaze returned to the girl.

Then he remembered her smile.

The memory was strangely vivid.

A small, bruised face.

A smile far brighter than it should have been.

A little girl who had kept returning to him despite his indifference.

Rowan walked over and dropped to one knee. He carefully lifted her into his arms.

Her eyes moved toward him.

Even now, despite everything, she smiled.

“Don’t look at me like that, as though you’re about to die.”

Rowan reached into his belongings and took out an elixir.

It was priceless to an ordinary human who had yet to begin cultivating. Even so, Rowan carefully gave it to the girl, making sure she swallowed it.

He watched her for a moment.

Then, almost as an afterthought, he asked, “By the way, what’s your name?”

“I’m Rowan.”

The girl looked at him.

Tears slipped slowly from the corners of her eyes.

Her voice was so weak that Rowan almost had to lean closer to hear it.

“Eli…zabeth.”

She swallowed.

“My name is Elizabeth.”

Rowan nodded.

“That’s good.”

He glanced at her wounds as the effects of the elixir began to take hold.

“I think I needed someone to help with the housework.”

Elizabeth's expression remained weak, but life was slowly returning to her face. The wounds covering her body began to heal, the worst of them closing before Rowan's eyes.

Once he was certain that she would live, Rowan stood.

Then he walked away without looking back.

Moras stared at him in astonishment.

“My lord! What did you just do?”

Rowan glanced at him over his shoulder.

“Start the boat. We’re leaving.”

Then he ignored him and continued walking.

Moras hurried after him, still demanding an explanation, but Rowan did not answer. His attention remained ahead as they made their way back toward the flying boat.

Then they heard another sound behind them.

Light footsteps.

Moras stopped.

Rowan slowed as well.

The young man glanced over his shoulder.

The girl was following them.

Elizabeth stopped when she realized they had noticed her.

For a moment, her eyes met Rowan's.

Neither of them spoke.

Then Elizabeth smiled.

It was the same smile.

The same small, bright smile that had somehow remained with Rowan even after everything else had faded.

She followed him.

Rowan did not tell her to stop.

He simply kept walking.

And Elizabeth continued walking behind him.

Thus, the little girl who had once been alone became part of Rowan's strange group.

Her name was Elizabeth.

She was also called Liz.

And she walked beside him.

For Rowan, this small fact would eventually become far more important than either of them could have imagined. But in that moment, when he remembered that smile and saw her quietly following him, he made a decision for reasons he could not explain.

He did not want the girl he had been given to disappear.

Present Day

High upon a mountain at the heart of the continent stood a towering castle.

Inside its reception hall, Rowan walked across a red carpet toward his throne. The great hall stretched around him, quiet and imposing, while his footsteps carried across the empty space.

A woman with white hair and blue eyes stood beside the throne.

She was waiting for him.

Rowan finally reached his seat and let out a long sigh.

“Ahhhhh…”

He looked exhausted.

“Finally. I’m done with work.”

For a brief moment, relief settled over his face.

Then his expression changed.

“But damn it…”

“I just discovered that there’s even more work waiting for me.”

His shoulders seemed to sink at the thought.

Rowan looked toward the woman beside him.

“Hey, Liz. What do you think?”

Liz looked at him.

For a moment, she said nothing.

Then she smiled.

“Your efforts are commendable, my lord. I hope you look forward to even more work.”

“Nooooo!”

His miserable cry echoed through the empty castle.