Chapter 9 : The mystery is half solved, right?

Come to think of it.

Why did I choose to join the Lilix team,

adventuring with these unattainable, unfamiliar flowers of girls?

A question with many answers now.

If past me answered, only one—

Survival. Nothing mattered more than living.

Lose life, and all goals, wishes—meaningless.

Let alone a second life.

Having lived a mediocre, failed one, no one understood better.

Flattery or submission,

out of place in the team due to talent and strength—so what.

Strong teammates as backing would let her go faster, farther than alone in this world.

That was her truest thought and plan upon arrival…

Looking back,

joining might have been a gamble.

An adventure.

“Ah.”

Likely from blood loss, deep sleep during blackout.

Qianyu recalled less-than-pleasant, sweat-and-tears past.

Memories—at most three months.

Fresh in the world, struggling, unfamiliar, no background, ordinary, a girl—many cold shoulders, near kidnaps and scams.

Joining Lilix—one month ago.

No, reminiscing too early.

Save that for one foot in the grave.

She shook her head, clearing excess thoughts from foggy mind,

slowly opened eyes—

First, familiar tent ceiling.

She’d tied rope to a support pole, hanging down,

with a sugar-cube-like stone at the end—sweet when licked.

From a hometown story,

where the hero licked bitterness to strive; she chose sweet for encouragement.

Barely licked it—mostly decoration.

Recognizable at a glance: her tent, private camp room.

Del handled all tents—storage, setup.

Her forest elf magic allowed quick pack and restore.

Originally Qianyu’s job, until one night’s failure forced the switch.

“Haah, rare indeed.”

(Can’t recall last time waking safely in my own bed.)

Thanks to that damn “sleepwalking,” decent sleep was scarce.

Always fearing discovery of her weird condition—expulsion just a matter of time.

Thoughts woke her in panic—miserable.

“Speaking of, those characters?”

Qianyu flipped off the blanket, rolled up sleeves and pant legs—

The black Chinese-like symbols from morning bath,

still unclear if truly Chinese.

Clearly etched in place.

Mystery awaited solving.

(At least the only clue remains.)

Today’s task done. Time to research properly.

“Oh right, the mission—I passed out.”

Mostly awake, mind flashed to the bandit-held girl and rescuing captain.

Plenty of desperate mission moments, but first blackout.

Bare-handed slime fights paled in comparison.

Must thank Lilix and teammates properly. For the girl and herself.

Thinking this, Qianyu sat up,

healed body back to normal, free to move.

“Mm, they should be eating now, I smell—huh?!”

Glancing outside, her sight swept something beside—

something unbelievable, shouldn’t be here.

She rubbed eyes, reopened—not hallucination.

“Um—you, why are you here?”

No sound or movement from her.

Qianyu’s surprise shifted to squeezed smile,

voice pitched high, coaxing like a child, gentle as possible.

To the girl kneeling obediently by the bed.

The slave she’d nearly died saving from bandit boss “Pig.”

Without teammate rescue…

“—”

Expressionless slave girl didn’t reply.

Knees on ground, she leaned toward Qianyu.

Then extended withered finger, under puzzled gaze,

poked the exposed black characters on skin.

“You—know where these come from?”

“—”

Still silent—perhaps unable. She moved finger to her own body.

Soft glow gathered at fingertip.

One second later, two words appeared on touched skin:

I know.

World’s script, not Chinese.

Translation magic let Qianyu understand.

Seemed this was her only communication method.

(Hiss, wait. If she can make words appear… doesn’t that mean I can…)

Uncertain guess arose.

“Then please—tell me… I have puzzles to solve.”

Low team status habitual, Qianyu clasped hands, sincerely pleading.

Her earnestness stunned the girl momentarily.

But soon, a YES action.

Fingertip back on Qianyu,

characters rippled like water-reflected light,

growing/shrinking, bright/dim, blur/clear. Then floated up like fireflies.

“T-This?”

Anticipating confusion, girl pre-wrote on her arm:

Reverse engineering for deconstruction magic.

Clearly, these are your own handwriting, my master.

“You mean these characters…”

(I wrote them myself with magic!)

Makes sense—Chinese in this world might mean other transmigrators from home.

But with this body—only Qianyu fit.

“But I have no memory.

If I remembered writing, no questions.”

Girl seemed clueless too, pondered, lightly shook head.

In the narrow, dim tent, wordless silence fell between them.

Heavy mysteries still clouded Qianyu’s heart like gloom.