The old woman's house was quiet.
The walls were built from aged cobblestone and bricks, reinforced with thick wooden beams that bore the marks of time.
A fireplace crackled gently in the corner, casting flickering shadows along the uneven floorboards.
Despite the modest furnishings, a sturdy wooden table, a few worn-out chairs, and a rocking chair near the fire…
Everything was immaculately clean.
Dried herbs hung in neat bundles from the ceiling.
On a small shelf, ceramic jars and bottles lined up, their labels either worn away by age or intentionally left blank.
Seven sat at the wooden table, his gaze drifting toward the window.
"Strange…"
Outside, the village was also silent. The houses nearby were built close together with their roofs sloping unevenly as if leaning into one another.
Yet, there was no sign of life.
Other than the boy and his sister, they had seen no one.
Tak.
Seven's fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the table as he recalled the green torch earlier.
Tak. Tak. Tak.
'It's still early… so why was the torch already lit?'
That unsettling detail nagged at him.
Also, he recalled how the siblings helped and bandaged him—not Lythian as his wounds were already healed.
'...They didn't even ask what happened.'
They accepted their presence without so much as a word.
Step.
The soft creak of the wooden floor made Seven glance up.
The old woman had returned from the kitchen. In her hands, she carried two cups of steaming liquid.
At first glance, it resembled tea. But the aroma was different compared to what Iria used to brew him.
Step.
She placed the cups gently in front of them before lowering herself into the seat between them and hands folded neatly in her lap.
Seven stared at the drink, but he did not immediately reach for it.
Neither did Lythian.
The old woman's gaze flickered between the two of them.
"Drink. It will help."
Seven's fingers curled slightly around the handle of the cup, but he did not lift it.
'...Help with what?'
As much as he wanted to activate the artifact, this old woman would notice the change of his eye color.
In the end, he didn't.
Instead, Seven's gaze shifted to the old woman's face.
The patch over her eye.
That wasn't there when he first saw her back in the entertainment district, when he stepped in to stop Brody. He remembered her face clearly then, both eyes intact, and both watching him with warmth and gratitude.
Now, one was covered.
For a second, he recalled one of the howlers earlier where the sword he threw stabbed directly into its eyes.
But Seven shook his head.
'No. That's not possible.'
Still, as much as he was curious about it, he didn't ask.
Growl.
Seven stiffened, his hand instinctively hovering near his waist only to realize there was no sword.
But it wasn't from outside.
The sound had come from Lythian's stomach.
"...Fuck."
Lythian muttered under his breath as he leaned back slightly.
"That scared me."
The old woman chuckled. But then her gaze flickered back to the two of them with furrowed brows.
"Both of you haven't touched your tea."
"..."
Seven didn't respond. Lythian gave an awkward glance at his cup, then at Seven, as if waiting for him to make the first move.
Sigh.
The old woman sighed.
Then, without hesitation, she grabbed Lythian's cup.
Before either of them could react, she tipped it slightly and let a small amount of tea spill into her palm.
Drop.
She drank it.
"There's nothing to be worried about."
With a smile, she placed the cup back onto the table with a soft clink.
Lythian blinked as he looked at Seven, who also blinked in response.
'Fuck…'
He had no choice but to lift the cup and take a sip.
"..."
Nothing happened.
Instead, Lythian licked his lips, tasting the faint bitterness of whatever blend it was. There was no strange aftertaste in the tea nor he felt dizzy.
Seven, however, still didn't drink as his fingers remained lightly curled around the handle.
The old woman tilted her head and her single visible eye gleamed.
It was the kind of look someone gave when they knew more than they let on.
"Not fond of tea?"
Seven didn't answer. He let the steam from the cup curl into the air between them as his fingers still rested on the handle.
Lythian, noticing the pause, cleared his throat.
"He's just weird about food."
"Cautious."
Seven corrected as he finally met her gaze.
"Caution is good."
The old woman chuckled softly as she leaned back.
"But too much of it can make life rather dull, don't you think?"
Seven didn't respond.
Instead, his gaze drifted, moving past the old woman—past the wooden walls and the faintly flickering candlelight—until it settled on something hanging by the far side of the room.
A painting.
It was old, the edges of the frame slightly chipped, but the image itself was well preserved.
A younger woman, standing in front of what seemed to be this very house. Her expression was the same as the old woman before them.
Calm.
Gentle.
Seven's eyes dropped lower. There, beneath the painting, was a date.
— 4th Day of the First Season, Year 615.
His fingers twitched.
That wasn't right.
His gaze flicked back to the old woman, who had been watching him the whole time.
And then, as if she already knew what he was thinking, she smiled.
"Yes. I will be one hundred and sixty-one this year. Tomorrow."
Seven didn't react, but Lythian nearly choked on his tea.
"...The fuck?!"
Lythian wiped his mouth as he gave the old woman a skeptical stare.
"You look—"
He stopped himself before he could blurt out something stupid like 'ancient.'
"—Well, uh, good for your age?"
The old woman chuckled, clearly entertained by Lythian's reaction.
"I baked bread to prepare for my grandchildren."
As she spoke, her gaze turned toward the window. The faint sunlight filtered by dense forest trees illuminated the two figures outside.
The young boy and his sister. Playing.
Seven watched them for a moment before the old woman's voice pulled his attention back.
"Would you like some?"
"No."
"Yes!"
Unlike Seven's flat tone, Lythian exclaimed 'yes' as his answer. As he did, Seven turned his head to him, deadpan.
Lythian blinked, realizing his mistake. He opened his mouth, probably to take it back, but the old woman was already standing up.
"Haha. Don't worry, I've made enough."
Step.
She walked toward the kitchen, and the wooden floor creaked softly beneath her weight.
Seven exhaled and shook his head as Lythian slumped in his chair.
"I wasn't gonna say yes."
"You literally did."
"...Fucker."
Sigh.
Seven sighed, as his fingers tapped idly against the cup. Something still wasn't sitting right with him.
The tea.
The torch.
The village that shouldn't even exist this deep in the forest.
And now, a woman who claimed to be over a century old yet moved like someone half that age.
Howl.
A low, eerie sound echoed.
Both Seven and Lythian froze.
Howl.
Another howl followed. But this time, it was closer.
Boom!
The kitchen exploded.
Shards of wood and stone burst into the air, sending debris flying across the room. The force knocked over the table, sending Seven and Lythian stumbling back.
Their cups hit the ground and shattered.
'Theia's Eye.'
Seven reached for anything that could be used as a weapon. His fingers brushed against the old wooden chair, but he dismissed it immediately.
Lythian, cursing under his breath, grabbed the nearest thing he could find which was a rusted metal poker from the fireplace.
Smoke and dust filled the air.
Then, a shadow moved within the wreckage.
Seven's grip on his makeshift weapon tightened.
Growl.
The dust settled.
And standing in the middle of the ruined kitchen, amidst broken stone and shattered wooden beams, was a figure.
"A howler?"