Leon slept deeply that night, perhaps drained from releasing the powerful Arrow of Isa. He hadn't felt such exhaustion in a long time. When he finally stirred, waking naturally and slowly opening his eyes, he realized that at some point, he had been moved. He wasn't sure when or how, but he found himself lying in a comfortable bed, in an unfamiliar room. The sensation was so disorienting, it took him a moment to fully grasp his surroundings.
The mattress beneath him was thick and soft, molding to his body in a way that made it difficult to want to move. The pillow cradling his head was equally luxurious, and the quilt covering him had an almost intoxicating, faint fragrance that was oddly soothing. For a fleeting moment, Leon felt like he was back in his bedroom on Earth. The familiar comfort of home wrapped around him, minus, of course, the shrill alarm that would typically rouse him for work. He sighed deeply, the nostalgia of home settling in his chest, but he quickly shook it off. This wasn't Earth.
Groggily, he blinked the sleep from his eyes and looked around, trying to gather his bearings. The room was dim, shrouded in shadow. There was no light from candles or lamps, and the heavy leather-covered wooden windows were tightly shut, blocking out any hint of the outside world. Leon had no idea how long he'd been asleep, nor whether it was day or night. Time had seemed to slip away.
Physically, he felt much better. His strength had returned, though a dull ache still lingered in his chest; a reminder of the recent battle. Still, it was nothing too serious, and he felt more than capable of getting up. Slowly, Leon sat up, tossing the quilt aside. His feet swung over the edge of the bed, ready to touch the floor. But just as his feet made contact, something soft and unexpected met his soles.
Startled, Leon jerked his foot back, heart racing. His mind raced through possibilities: a blanket? No; too soft for that. A pillow? He hadn't felt any fabric. But before he could panic, a quiet sound broke the stillness of the room.
"Hmm~?" A drowsy voice mumbled beneath him. A figure stirred, hidden beneath a pile of blankets on the floor. Slowly, a girl sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her voice, though groggy, was familiar. "Leon... you're awake."
"Olivia?" Leon's voice was a mix of confusion and surprise. He couldn't see her clearly in the darkness, but he recognized the voice instantly. "Why are you sleeping on the floor?"
The girl, still shaking off sleep, blinked a few times as if trying to remember why. She yawned and stretched, her knees tucked up under her as she sat on the floor. "There's only one bed," she explained with a small shrug, her voice still soft with sleep. "The guest rooms are full... all the injured people."
Leon felt a flush of embarrassment wash over him. How had this happened? How could he have taken the only bed, leaving her to sleep on the floor? He frowned at the thought. "I'm sorry," he said earnestly, feeling awkward. "I didn't even realize. I must've been out cold. How did Liam manage to move me here?"
Olivia blinked, then smiled sleepily, shaking her head. "It wasn't Liam." She gave a small laugh. "I brought you here myself. You looked so exhausted, I thought it'd be best if you slept in a proper bed."
Leon's mind blanked for a moment. 'She' had moved him? He was at a loss for words. Sure, he was grateful for her kindness, but something about the whole situation felt off. Shouldn't it have been the other way around? Wasn't it typically the hero's role to offer the bed to the woman? And yet here he was, comfortably cocooned while Olivia had spent the night on the hard floor.
The more he thought about it, the more a bizarre image popped into his mind. Olivia had said she 'carried' him. Leon couldn't help but picture the scene. What kind of carry was it? His stomach churned at the idea of being cradled in a princess-style hug, Olivia lifting him up like he was some damsel in distress. He grimaced slightly, hoping it was more of a simple over-the-shoulder maneuver.
Clearing his throat, he stood up, brushing the embarrassing thoughts aside. "You should take the bed," he insisted, trying to reclaim some sense of decency. "I'm feeling much better. I've rested enough."
Without waiting for a response, Leon stepped around her makeshift bed and made his way to the window. His hand brushed over the rough wood as he pushed it open, letting in a cool breeze and the soft glow of moonlight. He blinked at the sight; night had fully fallen. The silvery light spilled into the room, chasing away the heavy shadows and illuminating everything in a soft, ethereal glow.
He turned back to Olivia, intending to continue the conversation, but the sight of her stopped him short. The moonlight had caught her just right. Her long, golden hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall, shimmering with a gentle glow, almost as if it had been brushed with moonlight itself. The sight was striking, and for a brief second, Leon forgot what he was about to say.
His heart skipped a beat. Olivia, still sitting sleepily on the floor, looked almost otherworldly in the light, her features softened and serene. Leon swallowed, unsure how to react. He wanted to speak, but his words stuck in his throat. For all the strength and battles he had faced, nothing quite prepared him for this strange, quiet moment.
The girl's expression was soft and sleepy, her fair skin glowing faintly pink in the soft moonlight, giving her an almost ethereal appearance. Her emerald green eyes, though heavy with drowsiness, still sparkled with the intensity of stars, cutting through the night with a brightness that captivated Leon.
"It's really fine," Olivia said with a small smile, shaking her head gently. "I couldn't possibly let you, one of our saviors, sleep on the floor. You deserve better."
Leon felt his heart quicken for a moment, the tenderness in her voice catching him off guard. His eyes darted to her left shoulder, where he noticed a simple bandage wrapping her injury. Seeing that only strengthened his resolve. He needed to convince her. With a deep breath, he steadied himself and spoke, his voice firm but kind. "You're the one who's hurt, Olivia. I'm fine, I've recovered. Think of this as a guy's pride at stake; don't argue with me on this. I can't, in good conscience, let a young girl like you sleep on the floor while I take the bed."
Olivia looked at him, her eyebrows raising slightly, clearly bemused by his stubbornness. She hesitated for a moment, but seeing Leon bring up something as exaggerated as "a man's dignity," she gave in with a sigh, tilting her head in reluctant acceptance. "Alright, if it means that much to you," she said with a faint smile. "I'll take the bed."
But as she stood up, she threw him a sidelong glance, still not entirely satisfied with his choice of words. "Just so you know," she added with a bit of indignation, "you're not much older than me. I may not be tall, but I'm sixteen. I'm hardly a 'little girl.'"
Leon couldn't help but suppress a grin at her protest. Sure, his current body was the same age as Olivia's, but mentally, he was still ten years older from his previous life. In that past life, kids her age would have called him 'uncle.' The thought made him chuckle quietly, though he decided to keep that bit to himself.
After Olivia climbed into the bed and tucked herself under the quilt, Leon half-closed the window, letting in just a sliver of the cool night air. He turned back to the floor, where the bedding had been laid out for him, and bent down to settle into his new sleeping arrangement. Lifting the quilt, he prepared to lie down, ready to finally get some rest.
But as soon as he did, something unexpected hit him; the warmth. The bedding still carried the heat of Olivia's body, and along with that, a faint fragrance filled the air around him. It wasn't overpowering, but it was undeniably hers, a subtle and clear scent that lingered in the quilt.
'Wait a second', Leon thought, suddenly tensing up. 'This feels... wrong.'
His mind raced, and his face heated with embarrassment. He couldn't shake the awkward realization that it felt like he was lying in the warmth left behind by her body. 'What kind of pervert would end up in a situation like this?'
Then another thought struck him, a mortifying one. If he could smell Olivia's scent, then surely she could smell the sweat and grime he'd accumulated from the battle. His heart sank at the thought. After all, he hadn't had a chance to clean up; he'd been fighting and sleeping outdoors for days. The idea of leaving behind any trace of himself on her bed mortified him.
He quickly raised his arm to his face and sniffed. Relief washed over him when he found no strong odor. Maybe it wasn't as bad as he feared. Perhaps this younger body didn't sweat the way his old one did. Or maybe, just maybe, it wasn't quite as noticeable. Still, it didn't stop him from worrying.
What Leon didn't realize, though, was that everyone gets used to their own scent, and it's easy to miss what others might notice right away.
Up on the bed, Olivia lay still, but her face had turned pink. She buried her nose deeper into the quilt, and her cheeks grew warm. 'What is this strange scent?' she wondered. It wasn't unpleasant, just unexpected; a subtle reminder that someone else had been there before her.
Morning came quietly. Leon woke before the sun, the room still filled with the gray light of dawn. He stood and stretched, careful not to disturb Olivia, who was still sound asleep. Moving quietly, he tidied up the bedding on the floor and made sure everything looked as it had before. Then, with one last glance at the peacefully sleeping girl, he slipped out of the room, shutting the door softly behind him.
As he descended the stairs, he was greeted by a somber sight. The lobby on the first floor had been cleared to make room for the many women and girls who now lay sleeping in clusters, huddled together for warmth and comfort. Some had tear-streaked faces, evidence of the hardships they had endured, but for now, they slept soundly, their exhaustion evident.
Leon paused at the bottom of the stairs, taking in the quiet scene. The world outside might have been harsh, but at least, for this moment, there was peace.
There was no sign of Liam at the entrance. Instead, Leon found a handful of young boys; some barely more than children; standing guard. They wore mismatched, ill-fitting armor, scavenged from the fallen, their small hands gripping swords and spears awkwardly. Despite their youth and inexperience, they stood resolute, determined to protect the women and children resting inside. A few older teens led them, their faces grim but steady, clearly shouldering more than they should have at their age.
Leon descended the stairs quietly, careful not to disturb anyone.
The faint creak of the wooden steps caught the attention of the makeshift guards. They turned to glance back, eyes wide with a mixture of caution and hope. They immediately recognized Leon as the stranger Olivia had spoken of. Though their expressions were still haunted by pain and the weight of recent loss, they managed grateful nods in his direction, a silent thanks for the help he and his companions had provided.
Feeling their warmth, Leon returned the nod with a solemn look and quietly stepped past them, heading out into the cool air. The faint scent of blood still lingered, though much of the violence had been scrubbed away. He was surprised to see that the streets had already been cleaned up, there were no longer bodies littering the ground as they had been the day before.
Leon walked a bit further, his steps taking him toward the village market. From a distance, he could make out a large pile of bodies, covered with sackcloth, stacked in the village's central square, waiting for burial. A pang of sorrow hit him at the sight. It was a stark reminder of how much had been lost. Still, it was clear that, in his absence, the survivors had worked tirelessly, cleaning up the aftermath under someone's guidance. They'd done what they could to restore a sense of order after the chaos.
Just as he took in the scene, a familiar voice called out. "Hey, Leon, up early, huh?"
Leon turned to see Liam sitting nearby, leaning casually against the doorframe of a small house. He was fully armored, wearing an ornate set of plate armor that clearly belonged to a knight, complete with a long-handled halberd and axe resting beside him. The armor gleamed in the early light, almost too grand for the rustic surroundings. Leon raised an eyebrow, curious about the situation.
"Liam? What are you doing here?" Leon asked, walking over, his tone puzzled.
Liam shrugged, tapping the hilt of his weapon with a smirk. "Olivia was running around yesterday, helping out wherever she could. I wasn't sure how else to pitch in; besides moving some supplies around. So, I figured I'd be useful by guarding the prisoners we've got locked up in here." He gestured with his thumb at the door behind him.
"Prisoners?" Leon's eyebrows shot up. "You mean there are Kantadars still alive?"
"Yeah," Liam replied, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "Just one. But he's a big deal; a knight. Olivia took him down, slashed his thigh, but he's alive."
A flicker of surprise passed through Leon. Olivia had wounded a Kantadar knight? That was no small feat, especially considering how fierce those invaders were.
But before Leon could process that fully, Liam leaned in closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Let me tell you something else," he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper, as if what he was about to say was a secret. "I don't mean to sound unfair to these villagers, but... we might've stumbled into something pretty huge. This disaster could turn out to be a blessing in disguise for us."
Leon's brow furrowed, not entirely liking the tone Liam was using. Was he suggesting they take advantage of the villagers' misfortune? Leon had always known Liam to be an opportunist, but he never thought his friend would cross certain moral lines.
But before he could say anything, Liam clarified, as if reading Leon's thoughts. "No, no, don't get the wrong idea. I'm not talking about robbing anyone. But think about it," he said, gesturing to the gleaming knight's armor he was wearing. "Look at all this loot! The armor, the weapons... and the war horses that are still alive!"
Leon's gaze shifted to the knight's armor. Now it made sense; Liam wasn't just referring to material wealth; he was talking about the valuable spoils left behind by the defeated Kantadars. He nodded slowly, beginning to understand.
Liam's voice trembled with excitement as he continued. "I did a rough calculation. You won't believe the market value of all the stuff those Kantadar bastards left behind. We're talking armor, weapons, horses... easily worth 1,200 to 1,300 Serrian gold coins!" He paused dramatically, letting the numbers sink in. "That's enough to buy a small castle, Leon. A 'castle'!"
Leon couldn't help but feel a spark of interest at the staggering amount. A fortune like that wasn't something you came across every day. The sheer scale of it made him realize what Liam was really getting at 'war profit'. This wasn't just about survival anymore; there was real opportunity here.
The concept of "war profit" hit Leon with a new clarity. Amidst all the destruction and loss, there was wealth waiting to be claimed. It was a sobering thought, one that made Leon uneasy yet curious. In the aftermath of battle, it wasn't just about who lived or died; sometimes, it was about what you could make of what was left.