Evelyn sat by the campfire, her head resting against her knees, her dark hair falling around her like a curtain. The fire crackled softly, its amber glow licking shadows across the ground, but her gaze stayed fixed on the wagon where Lancelot lay with his eyes closed—seemingly asleep, though she doubted he truly was.
She sighed quietly. Lancelot was an enigma. A force that seemed beyond reach.
He had shown her Sword Unity, a power that felt as if it could cleave the heavens, and he had shattered the spell her mother—the Witch of Calamity herself—had embedded in her heart, a feat Evelyn still struggled to comprehend. In raw strength, he was leagues above her, even though their mana cores were of the same Indigo grade.
'And yet…'
Evelyn hugged her knees tighter. She wanted to help him. She needed to. Lancelot had shown her nothing but kindness, starting from that moment in the village when he chose to spare her instead of executing her as most others would have. Then he had taken her to the Grand Duchy, given her status and protection with a contract engagement, and… spoiled her.
She didn't deserve it.
Her body trembled slightly as her mind pulled her back to that moment—when the Grand Duchess suggested the engagement. Lancelot's stoic, composed mask had cracked, just for a heartbeat. It was fleeting, but the weight of it lingered in her chest. Even the Grand Duchess had been surprised.
In that moment, he hadn't looked angry or reluctant. He had looked… broken.
Evelyn closed her eyes.
She was sure of one thing—Lancelot didn't love her.
But that didn't matter. For her, it wasn't about love. She owed him. No, it was more than that. He was the first person to truly give her a chance, to treat her like something more than a pawn in her mother's schemes. And if he could see her as something more, then she had to prove him right.
Evelyn exhaled slowly, her breath misting faintly in the cool night air. She would grow stronger—not just for herself, but for him. To stand beside him, not behind him. Her mother, the Witch of Calamity, loomed over her future like a dark mountain, and Lancelot wouldn't always be there to shield her.
Her first step was clear: she had to find her Concept—that elusive, intangible truth within herself that would allow her Indigo core to ascend to Violet.
"Yo, mind if I sit?"
Evelyn blinked up, startled from her thoughts. Raine stood at the edge of the firelight, a crooked grin on her face. Her auburn hair was tied loosely back, her armor dulled from travel, but her eyes were sharp and bright as ever.
"Go ahead," Evelyn replied softly, nodding.
Raine dropped down beside her with a contented sigh, stretching her legs toward the fire. "I'll be honest, kid—I thought you'd be asleep by now. Big day and all that."
Evelyn said nothing, turning her gaze back toward the flames.
The older woman tilted her head, a sly smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "So… that pretty boy over there—he break your heart or what?"
"What?" Evelyn's head snapped up, her face instantly heating. "No! Nothing like that."
Raine chuckled, clearly enjoying herself. "Calm down, calm down. Just joking, kid." She leaned back on her elbows, gazing lazily into the fire. "Still, you've got that look about you. The kind that says you're trying to figure something out. Or maybe someone."
Evelyn exhaled slowly, forcing herself to relax. "It's not like that," she murmured. "I just… I don't know how I can be useful to him."
Raine raised an eyebrow, her grin softening into something more thoughtful. "Useful?"
"Yes," Evelyn said, her voice firmer now. "Arlen's done so much for me. More than I ever expected anyone to. I owe him my life, and yet… I feel like I'm just holding him back."
Raine watched her for a moment before letting out a long sigh. "Ah, sorry, kid. I thought this was just another case of young love. Guess I was way off the mark."
Evelyn scoffed, shaking her head as a small smile crept onto her lips. "It's not that. It's just… he's someone I owe a lot to, and I don't know how I can repay him."
Raine tilted her head back, studying the stars that peeked through the canopy of trees. "You know, I've been doing this a while—longer than you've been alive, probably. I've seen a lot of adventurers, mercenaries, knights… you name it. But that boy? That Arlen?" She let out a low whistle. "He's a monster. No offense, of course."
Evelyn nodded, unsurprised.
"I mean it, though. I'm B-class, but even I can tell he's way beyond A-class. And you? You're strong too, kid. Too young to be this strong, if I'm being honest."
"Not strong enough," Evelyn muttered, her gaze hardening as she stared into the flames.
Raine shrugged. "Maybe not yet. But you're young. You've got time." She turned her head, fixing Evelyn with a rare seriousness. "Listen, kid—strength isn't just about power. It's about standing up when it counts. And sometimes, the strongest thing you can do for someone isn't fighting at their side, but being there when they need you."
Evelyn blinked, surprised by the quiet wisdom in Raine's words.
"Just saying," Raine added with a sly grin, breaking the moment like a flicker of light through the dark. "I'm sure Pretty Boy over there doesn't think you're as useless as you seem to think you are."
Evelyn offered a faint smile, though the weight of her thoughts still anchored her in place. "Thank you, Raine."
Raine leaned back slightly, stretching her arms with a lazy confidence. "You know, I've seen a lot of people in this line of work—knights, adventurers, mercenaries, the whole lot. And that boy? He's something else." Her sharp gaze softened, lingering just a moment longer on Evelyn. "And he looks at you like you're something else, too. It's subtle, I'll give you that. The guy's got a face carved out of stone, but if you know what to look for—well, it's there."
Evelyn bit her lower lip, her fingers curling slightly against her knees.
"I'm not saying he expects you to pay him back," Raine continued, her voice low, almost conspiratorial. "It's not that kind of look. It's like he sees you as something… important. Someone beyond all the nonsense you're worrying about." She shot a glance back toward the wagon, her smile laced with quiet sincerity. "Just be sure you support him as best you can, Evelyn. Both of you are heading somewhere high. I can feel it."
Evelyn nodded, the words sinking deep, weaving themselves into the tangle of her thoughts. "Thank you," she said softly.
"Don't mention it." Raine rose, brushing dust from her trousers. "I'll be walking around for the night watch. You can tag along if you're feeling restless, or just stay here and brood. Either works." She gave a playful wink before turning on her heel, her silhouette blending into the night beyond the firelight.
Evelyn remained seated, her gaze fixed on the small trails of mana swirling around her fingertips. She spun the particles absently, watching as they shimmered like stardust against the backdrop of the dark forest. This… this was as much as she could do now.
Her puppet magic remained buried, hidden for the time being. They were in mixed company, and the last thing she wanted was to reveal herself as a witch. Not when witches—her mother in particular—were synonymous with curses and calamity, their very name inspiring whispers and fear. Lancelot understood her, accepted her, but the world? It was far less forgiving.
Still, her fingers tingled with restlessness. Her magic felt stifled, a bird locked in a gilded cage, waiting for the moment it could spread its wings.
Suddenly, her senses sharpened, breaking her reverie.
She turned her head sharply, catching movement at the edge of her vision. Lancelot had climbed out of the wagon. His movements were quiet, measured, like always—each step deliberate, carrying with it the same calm authority that seemed inseparable from him.
But something was different.
'It's not his turn for watch,' she thought, frowning as she rose to her feet. He hadn't noticed her, or if he had, he wasn't letting it show. That in itself was strange. Evelyn's instincts churned as she quietly followed him, her footsteps muffled by the soft forest floor.
She trailed him through the darkness, her heart thumping softly against her ribs.
Lancelot moved with the same unshakable grace as always, but there was a heaviness to his steps tonight. Something unseen weighed on him, something neither sword nor spear could cleave away.
Finally, he stopped.
The forest opened up into a small clearing, bathed in the silver glow of moonlight. The air here felt sharper, cleaner, as though the world itself held its breath. Lancelot stood at the center, his back to her, hands tucked into his coat pockets.
He exhaled slowly, the sound almost lost to the wind. For a moment, he simply stared upward, his crimson eyes fixed on the sky as though searching for something hidden among the stars. Then he shook his head, as if trying to dislodge some unseen thought, his shoulders stiff with restraint.
Evelyn's breath caught in her throat.
The light of the moon caught on his silver hair, setting it aglow like threads of quicksilver. His sharp features were framed in soft, pale light, but there was no warmth to it. He looked distant, otherworldly—like a figure sculpted of marble, too perfect, too untouchable for this world.
And yet…
That wasn't what held Evelyn's gaze.
It wasn't his impossible beauty or his quiet strength.
It was the way he stood there, alone beneath the endless stretch of sky, surrounded by nothing but shadows and silence. For all his power, all his certainty, there was something fragile in that moment—something deeply human.
'He looks lonely,' Evelyn thought, her chest tightening as she watched him.