Chapter 25: In the mist.

The carriage had been traveling for four full hours.

At some point, the scenery outside the window had begun to change.

The once-vibrant green forest gradually thinned, replaced by twisted, dead trees and ashen-black soil.

Then, thick white fog—dense as milk—crept in silently, swallowing everything on both sides of the road.

They had reached the edge of the Mist Swamp.

Not only was visibility severely limited, the air itself turned damp, cold, and cloying, making every breath feel labored.

Hill woke from her long midday nap.

She rubbed her sleepy eyes and realized a thick wool blanket had been draped over her; her head was still pillowed on Phyllis’s shoulder.

Phyllis was quietly heating a fresh pot of black tea with magic, her movements so light they made almost no sound.

“Awake?”

Phyllis sensed the movement against her shoulder, turned her head, and gently rubbed her cheek against the top of Hill’s hair.

“We still have some distance to go. Want to sleep a little more?”

“No, my bones are all soft from sleeping.”

Hill sat up straight and stretched lazily.

The carriage’s constant-temperature magic had almost made her forget the harsh environment outside—until she happened to glance toward the window…

Though the curtains were drawn, the sickly pale light seeping through the gaps felt deeply unsettling.

“The fog outside is really thick.”

Marius’s voice broke the quiet.

The scholar had remained seated opposite them the entire time; his monocle glimmered faintly with magical light in the dim carriage interior.

He appeared to have been reading a thick, weathered book the whole journey, only closing it when Hill stirred awake.

“Yes, this mist contains hallucinogenic particulates. Prolonged staring can cause those with weak mental resistance to lose their sense of direction.”

Marius smiled, his fingers lightly tapping the cover of the heavy tome.

“But for someone who studies ancient history, an environment like this is actually quite thrilling. Many truths buried by history are hidden precisely within such chaos.”

Hill glanced at the book.

There was no title on the cover—only a faded emblem resembling two crossed swords.

In that instant, Hill’s heart skipped a violent beat.

That emblem…

It belonged to the Dawn Knights Order—the very first order the previous-life Rain had joined before he became the Sword Saint three hundred years ago.

An organization long drowned in the river of history.

Hill’s gaze froze.

Though it was only a momentary contraction of her pupils, through Marius’s alchemically enhanced monocle, it registered as an enormous signal.

“Captain Hill seems quite interested in this book?”

Marius caught the look.

Instead of exposing her outright, he extended the book with the warm enthusiasm of an academic sharing a discovery.

“I happened upon this fragmentary volume in some ruins.”

He opened it to reveal densely packed handwritten script.

It wasn’t the common human tongue, nor Elvish.

The characters were angular, archaic, exuding an ancient martial aura…

Old Nord wartime cipher.

A military code used in Rain’s era to prevent interception by demons.

No young person today could possibly recognize it.

“Unfortunately, my knowledge of this ancient script is limited; I’ve only managed to decipher a sentence or two so far.”

Marius sighed and spread the page before Hill, leaning forward so the eye behind his monocle locked rigidly onto her face.

“For example, this passage… Captain Hill, take a look. Does it seem like some kind of poem, or perhaps a combat log?”

It was a trap.

Hill lowered her head.

Her eyes fell on the yellowed parchment.

“…The Seventh Squadron held Red Rock Gorge until the very last. If this book is found, inform them that this body has already…”

That familiar handwriting, that bone-deep code.

Hill’s breathing instantly became chaotic.

It was a comrade’s last letter.

A letter her previous self had never seen.

Grief, nostalgia, the burning blood of old battlefields…

All of it crashed over her reason in a single wave.

Her lips trembled faintly.

“This is… a farewell letter…”

The words were almost on her tongue.

A normal young girl, confronted with such incomprehensible scribbles, would react with confusion and bewilderment.

But if she recognized them…

Then she was absolutely not an ordinary young girl.

The corner of Marius’s mouth had already curved into the tiny, predatory smile of a hunter.

Got you.

Heretic.

In that razor-thin moment—

“Hill, don’t look.”

A hand suddenly interposed.

It didn’t snatch the book away; instead—

—it covered Hill’s eyes.

Phyllis had stood up at some point.

Her right hand, cool and faintly scented with citrus, gently but firmly sealed Hill’s vision, completely blocking her line of sight.

“Ph-Phyllis?”

Hill’s train of thought was shattered; darkness filled her world. She instinctively reached to pull the hand away.

“No can do, Hill.”

Phyllis’s voice came from above, thick with concern and just the right touch of gentle reproach.

“Didn’t I tell you before? Reading in a swaying carriage is the worst thing for your eyes.”

With one hand still covering Hill’s eyes, Phyllis used the other to lightly press the back of Hill’s head, guiding it against her own abdomen.

“Hill’s eyes are precious red gemstones. If your vision gets worse, I’ll be heartbroken to death.”

Then she lifted her head.

Facing the inquisitor who had been about to spring the trap, Phyllis’s expression was… quite the spectacle.

She first gave Marius a polite smile.

Then she extended one finger and—without the slightest hesitation—slammed the open ancient book shut with a sharp pa.

“Moreover, Mr. Marius.”

Phyllis’s tone cooled noticeably, like a mother irritated on behalf of her child’s well-being.

“The print is far too small and dense. Forcing Hill to stare at those ant-like squiggles—if she gets dizzy or nauseous, what then?”

“My captain is only responsible for spotting monsters’ weak points. This kind of obscure, headache-inducing academic trash… please refrain from polluting her vision with it.”

Academic trash.

With those two words, she precisely humiliated this veteran scholar of ancient languages.

The corner of Marius’s mouth twitched.

Even he had to admire this nun’s protective instincts in that moment.

Using purely physical concerns—eye strain and dizziness—she had forcibly interrupted the soul-probing attempt.

And the excuse was so reasonable it left no room for rebuttal.

“…I was thoughtless.”

Marius gave Phyllis a long, deep look before slowly withdrawing the book.

“My apologies. I got carried away and forgot to consider Miss Hill’s condition.”

“I’m glad you understand.”

Phyllis did not immediately remove her hand.

She kept it in place over Hill’s eyes, her fingers gently massaging the closed eyelids.

“Hill, are your eyes sore? Do you feel unwell at all?”

In the darkness, Hill gradually calmed from the earlier emotional surge.

Her heartbeat steadied. Reason returned.

She suddenly realized how close she had come to doing something incredibly stupid… nearly decoding an ancient military cipher in front of everyone.

If she had, she would definitely have been branded a freak—or worse, a spy.

It was Phyllis… who had somehow saved the situation?

Even if Phyllis had only genuinely believed reading in a moving carriage was bad for the eyes, the interruption had been perfectly timed and enormously helpful.

“I’m fine… It’s just that those characters really did make me a little dizzy.”

Hill took the escape route Phyllis had provided and leaned back into her embrace.

“Then keep your eyes closed and rest for a while.”

Phyllis sat back down, letting Hill settle against her shoulder once more. She made sure Hill never caught another glimpse of the book.

Silence returned to the carriage.

Marius reopened his tome and pretended to read, but the gaze behind his monocle had grown even deeper.

The timing of Phyllis covering Hill’s eyes had been far too perfect.

Almost as if…

she knew exactly what he intended.

Phyllis patted Hill’s back in gentle rhythm.

“It’s getting colder outside.”

She spoke softly and drew the heavy velvet curtains fully closed, shutting out the last sliver of pallid light from the world beyond.

The magical lamps inside the carriage glowed to life, bathing everything in warm amber.

“Hill, have some hot cocoa.”

Phyllis pressed a warm cup into Hill’s hands.

Hill clutched the comforting heat, staring at the fog-dampened shadows on the curtain. An inexplicable wave of lingering fear rose in her chest.

What would have happened if she had read it aloud just now?

She didn’t know.

She only knew…

This embrace beside her, this cup of hot cocoa, and the person who had placed herself as a barrier between her and that eerie scholar—these were now her sole sources of security.

“…Thank you, Phyllis.”

Hill whispered.

“You’re welcome.”

Phyllis smiled.

In the shadows, her eyes—filled with possessive hunger—traced every line of Hill’s profile.

As long as I block every line of sight that isn’t mine.

As long as I hide away anything that might distract you.

Then naturally, the only thing left in your world… will be me.