Chapter 8: Incident and First Meeting

Investigating the Mine

Setting aside the infirmary matters, Wenger turned to ask about the mine accident.

“How did the injury happen?”

“Yesterday, we were setting up equipment to go down. It was evening when we finished prepping. We hadn’t worked long when we hit a wall—it was hollow behind. The whole section collapsed. Luckily, few were inside! I was slow and got pinned,” the man explained, lifting his bandaged arm. His tone carried little complaint.

Wenger nodded, offering a few words of concern. She asked Vey to stay and help.

After all, bringing a young girl to the mines was inconvenient.

Assigning tasks without ensuring safety would earn anyone’s scorn. While she could handle many things alone, Wenger preferred the village function without her.

A Visit to the Blacksmith

On her way, she stopped by the blacksmith’s shop. From afar, she saw gray smoke curling toward the mountains. The site, on the village’s edge near the mountain entrance, minimized pollution and eased material transport.

Rhine had planned thoughtfully.

Before she pushed the door, the dull clang of metal echoed through the walls. Fenrod worked with focus, unaware of the girl quietly approaching.

Nearby apprentices, mostly villagers, greeted Wenger warmly.

“The master’s demonstrating basic techniques,” one explained. “The militia’s weapons are too old. Since you weren’t here, the chief discussed it with him.”

Wenger nodded, considering learning the craft herself. Before leaving, she asked the young apprentice’s name.

“I’m George!” he replied eagerly. To him, the elegant girl was a legendary figure, guarding the village for centuries. Not everyone got the chance to meet her.

Unaware of his thoughts, she only recalled a certain pink hairdryer. With so many villagers, she no longer roamed as often and wasn’t as familiar.

Even if she knew them, she wouldn’t invest too much energy.

A human life spanned barely a hundred summers. Once burned out, it left no trace, like spilled water or dying embers.

Her endless lifespan stretched beyond sight. Promises of “forever” were hers alone to make. Hiding in this corner felt somewhat involuntary.

Truthfully, she couldn’t be hunted by the world every time she stepped out, could she?

Yet, objectively, the road’s events weren’t targeted. Strictly speaking, they were near-death escapes.

‘Is my test account cursed?’

(* ￣︿￣)

Exploring the Mine’s Depths

At the mountain’s base, the environment had changed drastically. A cleared area was fenced with wood, housing simple sheds and a warehouse. A rough path back to the village was taking shape.

Wenger headed deep into the mine.

Following her instincts to a familiar spot, the clanging of tools echoed in the tunnels. The air grew murky as workers busied themselves.

After inspecting the mine’s structure and safety measures, she found no issues. She retraced her steps homeward.

The crystal ore clusters she expected were gone, as if a dream. Reflecting, the collapse likely triggered a spatial anomaly, now vanished without a trace. No lives were lost—fortunate indeed.

A Curious Reaction

Back at the treehouse, Wenger tapped the purple egg on the platform table, confirming its reality.

At that moment, she sensed residual energy from the man surge from her fingertips into the eggshell.

“Hm?”

Noticing this, she quickly withdrew her hand, then placed it back.

Energy sparked at her fingertips, a brief arc causing stinging pain.

She pulled back instantly, wrapping her fingers in green magic.

The egg appeared unchanged, but her keen senses detected a shift in the surrounding magic. Extending her mental energy, she saw a faint purple halo around the egg, as if it whispered, ‘Not enough.’

Wenger set aside her training focus. Packing the egg, she headed to the infirmary.

Thankfully, holding it through cloth spared her another shock.

Rushing into the church, she borrowed an empty room from Rilla. With effort, she deposited the man and egg inside.

The rest could wait.

Clapping her hands, she smiled and wandered the village.

A Moment of Leisure

Despite recent rushed days and paused training, she’d been productive. Her transmigration dream was to live idly; effort was merely for self-preservation.

She was complex, she admitted. She planned far ahead yet lived in the moment. Strategizing was fine, but so was seizing the day.

At the village’s edge, by the great lake, she spent half a day setting up a fishing spot. Dangling her slender legs, she watched clouds and birds, listened to rippling waters. As dusk fell, she returned with an empty bucket and pole.

Of course, she wasn’t skunked! She just chose not to fish.

Absolutely, absolutely…

With no one watching, Wenger glanced around, nodded confidently, and hummed her way home.

Dinner was a daily ritual, though the empty room felt lonely without guests.

Over the years, she didn’t mind one more or less person—it was just another mouth to feed. Perhaps that’s why she’d taken in so many children. She was selfish, wasn’t she?

Why should she bear this loneliness alone?

A Quiet Night at the Church

That evening, she fetched Peach from the well and headed to the infirmary.

The church’s doors and windows were shut, faint light seeping through.

It wasn’t a worship day. Pushing open the door, Wenger found Rilla praying before a statue.

Interrupting faith was rude. She sat quietly on a back pew, Peach behaving beside her.

Rilla, sent by the church years ago, was a follower of Lereseth, the Silent Lord. Yet, she stood between two statues.

Moments later, Rilla looked up, greeting her warmly.

“Been a while.”

“You know I have no faith.”

“But I miss you. I haven’t spoken to old friends in years. You’re the only one I can talk to.”

It sounded like a complaint.

Rilla’s face, veiled, remained youthful. Ordinary people aged, so Wenger accepted her words. Their bond wasn’t deep, but they could talk.

She didn’t want to explain her long slumber. She wasn’t as resilient as she seemed.

When villagers arrived, Wenger slipped away to the back room.

The egg and man were still. Probing with her hand, she found the energy had stabilized.

For reasons unclear, she sat cross-legged to meditate.

Perhaps she was eager for results, or worried the man might take the egg.

In meditation, time slipped by unnoticed. Deep into the night, Rilla came but didn’t disturb her.

The moon hung coldly, clouds thinning, its light bathing Maple Whisper Village.

Suddenly, Wenger stirred, exiting her trance. The man on the bed slowly opened his eyes. For a moment, their gazes met.