Chapter 37: Invitation Letter.

With the acquisition of Wind Whisperer, the Iron Sword party’s hunting efficiency reached a terrifying level.

Hill’s already masterful swordsmanship and rich experience, paired with Phyllis’s ever-present mana supply that followed like a shadow—

—in C-rank, even B-rank missions, it was practically dimensional suppression.

Their fame naturally spread.

The title “Silver Waltz” no longer circulated only in the borderlands; it had reached the ears of certain important figures.

That afternoon, in a private room on the second floor of the Adventurers’ Guild.

The air carried the fragrance of high-grade red tea—but it wasn’t brewed by Phyllis; it came from the hands of the people seated before them.

Opposite Hill sat three female knights clad in pure white armor, each bearing a lily emblem on their chests.

They carried an elegant air, their equipment impeccable.

Every one of them exuded the aura of true elites.

Directly under the royal capital’s command, an all-female elite adventuring party: the White Lily Knights.

“I’ll be direct, Miss Hill.”

Cecilia, the knight-captain at the head of the table, set down her teacup and fixed Hill with a piercing gaze.

“We’ve been watching you for a long time. Your swordsmanship, your command ability, and that resolute bearing on the battlefield… they perfectly match the aesthetics and standards of White Lily.”

She drew an ornate, gold-embossed invitation from her breast pocket and slid it across the table toward Hill.

“Join us. Not merely as a member—but as a candidate for future vice-captain, to be groomed accordingly.”

“We have the finest equipment, royal training grounds, and the most outstanding team of magicians.”

“Here, your talent can truly be unleashed, instead of being wasted in this border town.”

It was an almost impossible offer to refuse.

For any ambitious adventurer, this was a one-step ascension to glory.

But Hill looked at the invitation, brows faintly furrowed.

She felt no temptation—only a vague sense of trouble.

“Thank you for your high regard, Captain Cecilia. But I already have a party…”

“You mean that makeshift little group?”

Cecilia spoke without contempt—merely stating facts.

“That somewhat clumsy shield-bearer, and the beastkin who can only scout? Pardon my bluntness, but they can’t keep up with your pace. As for that nun…”

Cecilia’s gaze shifted to Phyllis, who had been standing quietly behind Hill like a shadow the entire time.

“Miss Phyllis is indeed an excellent healer.”

“But Miss Hill, you should understand—the path of a true powerhouse is cruel. If you keep carrying teammates who require constant protection, your sword will dull.”

Hill’s eyes turned cold.

She disliked anyone critiquing her comrades.

Just as she opened her mouth to refuse—

“Captain Cecilia is right.”

A gentle voice rose from behind Hill.

Phyllis stepped forward.

Far from angry, her face shone with intense joy and reverence.

“Hill, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

Phyllis placed both hands lightly on Hill’s shoulders.

Her voice remained sweet and clear, brimming with genuine excitement for Hill’s sake.

“The White Lily Knights are a legend in the capital. Their resources, their prestige—none of that is something our little party can offer you.”

Phyllis moved around the table and gave Cecilia a deep, respectful bow.

“Thank you for recognizing Hill. This child’s swordsmanship is like the wind—free and unbound. She truly shouldn’t be confined to this tiny cage.”

“Phyllis?!”

Hill stared at her in shock.

“What are you saying?”

Phyllis turned to face Hill.

Tears pooled in those blue eyes.

Not tears of grievance.

More like…

the pained tears of a mother reluctantly letting go for her child’s future?

“Hill, I’ve always known.”

Phyllis’s voice cracked slightly, yet she forced a smile.

“I’m just an ordinary nun. My mana may be plentiful, but I don’t understand advanced tactics. Elisa and Nia are ordinary people too. We… have always been holding you back, haven’t we?”

“Nonsense! Without all of you, I—”

“Don’t comfort me. Hill is too kind.”

Phyllis reached out and gently pressed her fingers to Hill’s lips, stopping her words.

“You want to become the strongest swordswoman. You want to see the ends of the world. That is your dream.”

“If, because of my selfishness—if I want to keep you by my side and end up hindering your dream… then I would never forgive myself for the rest of my life.”

Phyllis took the invitation from Hill’s hand, placed it solemnly back into her palm, and gently closed Hill’s fingers around it.

“Go, Hill.”

“Go to a wider sky. Don’t worry about us. I’ll take care of everyone… and I’ll always pray for you from afar.”

After those words, Phyllis seemed to have used up every last ounce of strength.

She released her hold, stepped back, and bowed her head.

That humble yet holy posture moved every White Lily knight present.

Even Cecilia couldn’t help but sigh.

“Miss Phyllis… you truly are a woman of noble character. To have someone like you supporting her is Hill’s good fortune.”

“…”

The room fell utterly silent.

Everyone watched Hill, waiting for her to accept the invitation that represented glory and a bright future.

Hill stared silently at the letter in her hand, then at Phyllis—standing quietly to the side, head bowed, seeming to secretly wipe away tears.

Something invisible gripped her heart fiercely.

Phyllis was thinking of her future, even at the cost of her own wishes…

She always did this.

In the gentlest, most selfless, most impossible-to-refute way…

“I’m not worthy to stand beside you.”

“You should go to a better place.”

Always saying these cunning things.

When you say it like that, how could I possibly go to the capital?

And besides.

If I really went to the capital…

Would I never drink Phyllis’s brewed red tea again?

Would no one warm my hands before sleep?

Would no one ever match my swordplay as naturally as breathing?

Moreover—

Wind Whisperer.

Hill unconsciously touched the hilt at her waist.

Without Phyllis’s mana supply, this sword was nothing but scrap metal.

Cecilia said they had the finest magician team.

But…

Could those magicians hold her hand without hesitation in battle, the way Phyllis did?

Could they pour mana into her body without reservation—even at the cost of their own life?

Could they synchronize their breathing with hers?

Impossible.

There was only one Phyllis in the world.

“…Captain Cecilia.”

Hill took a deep breath and stood.

She gently pushed the gold-embossed invitation back toward Cecilia.

“Miss Hill?”

Cecilia was somewhat surprised.

“Are you dissatisfied with the terms?”

“No, the terms are perfect.”

Hill shook her head, then turned and strode to Phyllis, seizing her hand in a firm grip.

“But I refuse.”

“Hill?!”

Phyllis looked up in shock, tears still clinging to her lashes.

“Why? This is clearly—”

“Stop talking, idiot.”

Hill looked at Phyllis’s pitiful, fragile expression.

A powerful surge of protectiveness and possessiveness rose in her chest.

She pulled Phyllis close—right in front of all the knights—and interlaced their fingers tightly.

“As the captain said, my swordsmanship is special.”

Hill raised the translucent Wind Whisperer, her tone firm and proud.

“This sword is cursed. It is extremely greedy, extremely picky.”

“Only Phyllis’s mana can feed it.”

“And only Phyllis’s hand is worthy of holding mine.”

She turned to the stunned knights, the corner of her mouth lifting in a confident smile.

“True strength isn’t defined by environment.”

“As long as Phyllis is by my side—even in a mud pit—I am the strongest.”

“So, I’m sorry. I’m not going anywhere.”

“This place is my home.”

Cecilia fell silent.

She looked at Hill’s resolute eyes, then at their tightly clasped hands.

As a battle-hardened knight, she quickly understood that gaze… the gaze of two people who already saw each other as half of their own soul.

A domain no outsider could ever intrude upon.

“…I see.”

Cecilia sighed with regret and put the invitation away.

“It seems we presumed too much. Since your bond runs so deep, I won’t force the matter.”

She stood and gave the two a respectful bow.

“Good fortune to you, Miss Silver Waltz—and to the selfless Sister.”

…

On the way home.

The setting sun stretched their shadows long.

Phyllis kept her head lowered, letting Hill lead her by the hand, silent the whole way.

“What’s wrong? Still upset that I turned down the offer?”

Hill stopped and looked at her with concern.

“…Hill is a big idiot.”

Phyllis lifted her head; her eyes were red-rimmed, voice thick with congestion.

“You could have gone somewhere better… You could have become a great hero…”

“I’m already a hero.”

Hill smiled and reached out to wipe away Phyllis’s tears.

“…Your hero. Isn’t that enough?”

Phyllis froze.

Then she threw herself into Hill’s arms, wrapping her arms tightly around Hill’s waist and burying her face in Hill’s chest, sobbing loudly.

“Wuwu… Hill… Hill…”

She cried like a wronged child, like a devotee who had regained something lost.

“Since you chose me… you absolutely, absolutely can’t regret it, okay…?”

“Even if you meet someone better than me later… even if you get tired of me someday… you can’t abandon me, okay…?”

“I won’t. I swear.”

Hill stroked her back gently, making an eternal promise.

…

Yet Hill did not know.

In her arms, the weeping Phyllis’s lips quietly curved into a mad, delighted arc.

“Only Phyllis’s hand is worthy of holding mine.”

…Right?

Hehehe…

Ah… I have to write this line in my diary. Recite it devoutly a hundred times every day.

Hill…

Hill, Hill, Hill…

My hero—mine alone, Hill…

Phyllis nuzzled deeper into Hill’s chest, savoring the body heat only she could touch.

Haa…

Hill’s warmth… I love it!

Hill…

Love, love, love…

Most beloved…