“Beatrice!” A voice yells out, sounding somewhat distant. “Beatrice, no!!! Don’t go into the light!”
As I begin to slowly wake, I feel my whole body being shaken back and forth like a ragdoll.
Through the bond, the tentacles’ presence is shaky, pulsating with confusion and half-conscious signals.
“W-w-w-what?” I begin, the words stuttering out of my mouth as I continue to be shaken harshly.
“Ah, Beatrice!” The voice calls out again, and the shaking of my body suddenly stops. “Thank God you’re okay!”
My eyes continue to roll around in their sockets as the world around me spins dizzily.
Closing my eyes, I harshly massage my temples. Slowly, I right myself up and begin to straighten my back.
“I’m fine,” I say, opening my eyes to see Mary staring back at me. “Thank you—”
My stomach suddenly lurches forward as bile rushes toward the top of my throat.
I quickly cover my lips as the hot, sour taste of fluids rushes out of my mouth. “Blarghhhhhh!”
Several hours later, after vomiting so much it feels like I’ve died multiple times, I’m now lying on a fresh, clean sleeping bag atop the wooden frame of the cabin Mary and I managed to rent for the week.
Staring up at the ceiling with lifeless eyes, I slowly roll my head to the side.
…I didn’t think it was possible to feel like I died again. That, and undead can barf. So much for an indestructible stomach, I guess.
Behind me, the tentacles are draped across my body and the bed frame. Through the bond, they pulse with pure exhaustion.
‘Creak!’
Slightly tilting my head up, I watch as the door to the cabin slowly swings open, revealing Mary’s familiar face.
She steps inside, layers of snow clinging to her from head to toe, making her resemble a snowman more than a human.
“Ugh, I miss the blistering heat of my village,” Mary grumbles as she begins brushing off the snow. “It’s like trudging through mud up to your head.”
I simply nod and briefly close my eyes. Several tentacles hum their agreement through the bond, which I blissfully ignore.
I watch as Mary takes off her equipment, shaking off snow like a dog, barely noticing the occasional flurry that hits me.
She turns to me as she removes her goggles—so dense with snow, I wonder how she could even see.
“Beatrice,” Mary breathes as she rushes to my side.
As she approaches, I quickly scan her from head to toe, trying to spot any injuries.
…It doesn’t seem like she’s hurt or seriously injured, I think.
Satisfied with my check, I let out a small sigh as most of the tension drains from my body.
Thank goodness she’s alright. I really don’t like her leaving my sight while she’s still recovering.
Biting my lip, flashes of the past few days flicker across my mind.
Ever since she saved that rookie hunter from the avalanche, Mary’s health has only started improving.
I keep worrying that if something happened while I wasn’t there, she’d be left alone to suffer.
Pausing mid-thought, I feel a bead of sweat slide down the side of my head.
…Wait, aren’t I the one literally at death’s door? It’s like a beggar worrying that a rich person might go hungry.
Pushing away the ridiculous image of a beggar chasing a rich man around with a blanket, I turn back to Mary.
She immediately grabs my face with both hands, making my shoulders tense in surprise.
Mary turns my head from side to side, inspecting me. I let her, my shoulders slowly relaxing again.
“Are you feeling better?” she asks hurriedly, placing a hand on my forehead. “Pain or anything?”
Gently pushing her hands away, I begin to sit up.
“Sorry for worrying you,” I sigh, rubbing my temple. “What happened?”
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Letting out a small sigh, Mary pulls up a wooden chair beside me before sitting down.
“After you were knocked unconscious the first time, I carried you back here,” she says, leaning back against the chair. “You were out for quite a while.”
Crossing one leg over the other, Mary glances off to the side. “When you finally came to, you swatted a pan out of my hand with a tentacle, which, um…”
She pauses, letting out a few coughs before continuing.
“...which landed flat on your face.”
Recalling the pan hurtling toward me before I blacked out, I slowly blink and look off to the side.
“Ah, so that’s what happened,” I say. “Wait— we can’t even cook here. Why did you have the pan out?”
Mary pauses, a frozen smile stretching across her face. I squint at her with half-lidded eyes, scrunching my nose.
Sweat begins to bead on her forehead as she avoids my gaze.
“...I was trying to make tea.”
“Oh,” I say flatly.
My brain is shrieking inside at the answer.
With a pan?! What kind of concoctions are you planning?!
After a series of questions from Mary—and enduring her prodding, poking, or pinching, much to some of the tentacles’ dismay and horror—I lean back against the wooden frame.
Most of the tentacles are slumbering, while the rest drift in and out of consciousness every now and then. The peacefulness they exude through the bond almost makes me envy them.
Giving one of the tentacles near me a glare, I let out a small huff.
Must be nice to not worry about finances and stuff. These parasites just get a free ride.
“Aren’t you going to drink it?” Mary’s voice draws my attention away from the tentacles.
In my hands is a medium-sized bowl of warm water mixed with various medicinal herbs. Some aren’t finely ground, with pieces or whole chunks just floating on the surface.
“Really, Mary,” I say, slowly looking up from the bowl as sweat trickles down the side of my face. “I really am fine. This is just excessive.”
While saying so, I briefly glance off to the side.
Besides, these herbs must have cost a fortune. We aren’t exactly in the position to use them willy nilly.
Opposite me, Mary sits on a wooden chair with a book in hand. A pair of glasses rests somewhat lopsidedly on her nose. Beside her is a stool-like table with a tablet on top.
“Oh, no,” Mary huffs, placing the book on the tablet and preparing to stand. “You’re not moving from that spot until you’ve finished it. You might have regenerative abilities as an Essevian, but that doesn’t mean you’re invulnerable.”
“But—”
“Beatrice.”
Mary smiles at me.
Despite her sweet expression, a sense of foreboding washes over me. After years of traveling together, I decide against arguing and simply nod my head.
At that, Mary lets out a small sigh and mutters what sounds like a quiet thank you before turning back to her book.
Casually observing her, I regard her carefully.
Catching myself unconsciously scanning her up and down, I quickly shake my head and silently chastise myself before glancing back again.
I can’t believe it’s been several years since we started traveling together—ever since that fateful second meeting.
Giving the bowl in my hands another look, I raise an eyebrow.
As nice as this is, it does feel like she sometimes forgets how old I am. Sure, I’m young, but I’m not that young. I did just turn eighteen, for goodness' sake.
Leaning back against the wooden frame, I let out a small sigh as a smile spreads across my face.
… I guess it’s not too bad sometimes.
Pushing the thought away, I briefly glance down at the bowl before bringing it up to chug the whole thing.
While finishing the last of the liquid inside, I watch as Mary picks up the book again. Written across its cover in big, bold letters are the words: The Rise of Cities from Rubbles.
Placing the bowl down, I regard the book carefully.
“Is that the next volume?” I ask, resting a hand under my chin. “Did you finish the old one already?”
“Yeah, bought it a long time ago,” Mary answers with a nod, pushing her glasses up. “A little pricier than the last one, but worth it.”
“From what I remember, doesn’t this one talk about how the asura first came into the world thousands of years ago?” I ask, tilting my head to the side. “Like how things such as ‘nations’ or ‘countries’ fell and gave rise to cities?”
“I guess so,” Mary says with a shrug.
Closing the book, she places it back on top of the tablet. With a sigh, she pushes her glasses up again.
“I still can’t read most of it,” she mutters under her breath. “There sure are a lot of difficult words in there.”
Shrugging, Mary takes her glasses off and puts them into their case.
“I can’t even get past the first chapter,” she laments.
Tilting my head slightly, I flash her a small smile. “...Well, when we have some free time, we can always go over it together.”
“That’s… great!” Mary smiles back. “Hah, you have no idea how reassuring that is to this history-loving core of mine.”
Observing the way Mary smiles contentedly in her seat, I cross my arms and watch her quietly.
To think that she’d be this happy over something like this. Hopefully, I don’t disappoint her with something I learned way back in school.
“Ah, enough about me,” Mary says, giving me a once-over. “How are you feeling?”
Somewhat curling back at her concerned look, I regard her carefully. “Much better. Not too bad, if that’s what you were asking…?”
Mary scans me up and down before letting out another sigh—probably the tenth one today.
“I’m just worried,” she says, glancing slightly off to the side. “You were behaving… weirdly while unconscious.”
“Weirdly?”
Mary pauses, clasping both hands together.
“You were mumbling something about cursed rebels and time travel?” she says, her voice laced with confusion. “I don’t know what that was about. What kind of dream were you having in there?”
Arching an eyebrow, I open my mouth to answer… then pause, quickly closing it again.
Huh. What was I dreaming about?....
Slowly blinking, I begin chewing on my bottom lip.
That’s weird. Why can’t I recall it? I could’ve sworn it was something important.
“I’ll just take a look at it later,” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “It’s probably nothing. Besides, we have other pressing concerns like—”
…Hold on. Didn’t we have an upcoming job?
“Ummm, Mary?”
“Yes?”
“How long was I out?”
“A couple of days,” Mary answers casually.
“And before I got knocked unconscious…” I begin. “Wasn’t it the day before we had to take up some jobs hiring us?”
“Yes.”
A long silence follows Mary’s answer as I stare down at the blanket with a blank face.
AGHHHHHHHHH!!!!! Fucked!!!! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!!!
Without a moment’s hesitation, I jump from the bed and bolt toward the door.
“Beatrice, wait!” Mary shouts as I throw it open. “Don’t—”
Slamming the door open, cold wind immediately rush at my face as I step outside. I don’t care about the freezing weather—I swivel my head, searching.
Who cares about some stupid vision or whatever knocked me out? Mary and I are going to be kicked out onto the streets at this rate!!!!

