I did end up returning to the cabin with him, but not just because I couldn't bear the thought of leaving him for one night. For the past couple of days, I had started to sense that something was troubling him, and it wasn't just about the mystery of the sword spirit. Sometimes he would pause in his reading and stare blankly into the distance, as if lost in some memories of the past. Sometimes he would look at me, and that wistful pain I hadn't seen for a while would flash across his eyes before he quickly hid it. Most of the time, however, he would simply bury himself in two particular volumes of those books in that foreign language, where one of them was frequently turned to the page of that purging symbol.