Suri hummed softly as the wagon rattled along the frosted road, the wheels creaking in a steady rhythm that somehow matched the tune escaping her lips. Her mood—once a storm cloud following the caravan—had finally lifted. Even the winter chill that seeped through the canvas walls felt gentler now, as if the world itself shared her relief.

  “Oh—it’s here!” Suri exclaimed suddenly.

  She scooted toward the back of the wagon and lifted the flap. A blast of cold air rushed in. A few students looked up, startled—especially Leo, who was bundled in blankets at the far end like a reluctant cocoon.

  Out of the pale sky, a black bird descended.

  It didn’t flap.

  It drifted, gliding unnaturally still, as if the wind carried it with intention rather than nature.

  It landed on Suri’s outstretched hands with eerie precision. Its talons released a small scroll—and then the bird dissolved like smoke, fading between her fingers.

  Whispers immediately filled the wagon. Curious.

  Boris hunched down carefully—half crouched, half crab-walking—so he wouldn’t smack his head against the ceiling. He reached Suri’s side, eyes wide.

  “What did Kana say?” he asked, unable to hide the thread of tension in his voice.

  Rin leaned forward, hair brushing her cheeks as she peered eagerly.

  Even Roy adjusted his spectacles, expression brightening with academic curiosity.

  Suri hesitated for a single heartbeat, looking at the neatly rolled letter in her hand.

  ….

  Then she crumpled it completely—and tossed it out of the wagon.

  A collective gasp rippled through the students.

  “Why did you throw it?!” Boris blurted, half rising as if to leap after the letter.

  “Yeah, what did she say?” Rin asked, practically vibrating.

  Suri crossed her arms, cheeks puffing in clear irritation.

  “I regret worrying about her for the past few days,” she muttered. “All she wrote was: ‘Buy a lot of sweet snacks for the kids.’”

  A beat of silence.

  Then Roy let out a soft laugh, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

  “That,” he said, “someone like Kana would say.”

  The tension in the wagon eased at once.

  Suri sighed, but a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips—despite pretending to be annoyed. The steady shaking of the wagon resumed its rhythm, almost humming along with her newfound relief.

  …

  A week passed in the soft blur that follows relief.

  When the students finally reached the academy, the main gate was a storm of activity—a sea of crests, banners, and gleaming lacquered carriages. Nobles clustered in anxious knots, servants rushed back and forth with parcels, and the normally disciplined gate guards struggled to maintain order. Parents called out names with voices edged by both worry and pride; reunions burst like tiny celebrations across the courtyard.

  Suri jumped down from the wagon, boots crunching on the frost-layered stones. Boris thumped down behind her, stretching his shoulders. The cold air smelled of horse sweat, polished wood, and incense drifting faintly from the academy towers.

  “I’ll go now to my mother before she interrogates you instead of me,” Rin said quickly—just as a finely dressed woman was striding toward her with a look that could cow even a griffin. Rin waved once and darted off.

  Leo adjusted his scarf and sighed. “Same for me. My brothers will want a detailed report. Every. Single. Moment.” He groaned and trudged away.

  Then—

  “Yuri!”

  “Yuri, over here!”

  Asha barreled through the crowd, spotted Yuri, and lifted him off the ground with surprising ease.

  “I was so worried!” she cried, squeezing the life out of him.

  Yuri hung limp, as expressionless as ever, like a cat being held midair.

  Asha whipped her head around, scanning the crowd. “Where’s Kana? Don’t tell me she caused trouble again—”

  “I can see her right now,” Suri said with a mysterious tilt of her head, as if locating Kana by instinct alone. “She’s probably lazing somewhere high up pretending to be busy.”

  One by one, their remaining classmates peeled away—greeted by families or swallowed by the colorful tide of nobles. Soon only Suri, Boris, and Adam remained standing by the wagon.

  “You’re not going to your parents?” Boris asked.

  Adam’s face tightened—just barely, but enough for Suri to notice. “They’re far. Much farther than the Northern Fortress.” He rubbed his wrists, pretending it didn’t bother him.

  Suri stepped forward. “Then come with us. We’ve got time before the new week starts.”

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  Adam hesitated. His training routine was practically sacred to him.

  “I can still train there, right?” he asked.

  “It’s better there,” Boris said. “There’s a strong river nearby. You’ll like it.”

  Adam nodded slowly, then grinned. “Alright. I’m in.”

  Suri turned away, covering her mouth—but Adam still caught the small quiver in her shoulders.

  “Did you just laugh?” he asked suspiciously.

  “No,” Suri said, definitely lying as she fought another grin. “But since you love doing strenuous physical activity…” She paused, eyes narrowing with predatory amusement. “I’ll prepare something special for you.”

  A gust of cold wind swept between them.

  Adam shivered.

  It wasn’t the weather.

  It felt like a warning— one that crawled down his spine and whispered that whatever Suri had planned…

  ….

  “Uhm… you’re going to pay me, right?” Adam asked, doubt twisting his brow. The way he eyed the baskets suggested he already regretted every life choice leading to this moment.

  He had become their unofficial pack mule. Boris marched ahead carrying three boxes of sweet pastries stacked as tall as his torso, while Adam staggered behind with the heaviest baskets—the ones filled with cuts of meat that dripped condensation and smelled faintly of iron.

  “We have extra money,” Boris said over his shoulder, voice strained as the boxes wobbled. “But it’s in Kana’s hands. We promise to pay you when we get there… probably. As long as she didn’t lose it.”

  Adam’s expression collapsed into a grimace that spoke of internal screaming. “That makes me worry more.”

  Suri approached the stable boy and handed him a few silver coins. The wagon she had rented was small, the wood old and chipped, pulled by a lone horse whose ribs were visible even through its fur. As the three climbed aboard, the wagon creaked like an old man rising from a too-long nap.

  The horse snorted, pawing at the ground before pulling forward with visible reluctance.

  As they started down the path toward the orphanage, the wagon rocked and lurched with every uneven stone. Suri glanced at the two boys—massive, muscular, and both sitting on one side like twin boulders. The wagon tilted slightly left.

  The horse whined.

  Suri couldn’t blame it.

  The pace was painfully slow, almost insulting. She could walk faster—no, she could crawl faster.

  Boris adjusted the pastry boxes on his lap. Adam braced his baskets of meat as the wagon hit another rut, nearly launching him into the air.

  Suri sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Of course…” she muttered. “Of course the horse is struggling. You two weigh as much as a small house.”

  Adam grunted. “You could’ve warned us.”

  “I did warn you,” Suri said. “Both of you ignored me.”

  A moment of silence passed, broken only by the miserable squeak of wagon wheels and the unhappy snort of the horse.

  Then Suri exhaled, long and wistful. “I miss Kana this time,” she said under her breath. “Things are always so much easier when she’s around.”

  She imagined Kana casually flicking her fingers, hiding objects like a ghost thief.

  Suri stared forward. The road stretched ahead, the wind carried the scent of forest and river, and despite the ridiculousness of their situation, a small smile tugged at her lips.

  “Let’s just hope Kana didn’t lose the money,” Suri said.

  Adam groaned.

  And the wagon trundled on—slow, crooked, and full of questionable life choices.

  ……

  The sun hovered low, bleeding orange across the treetops as their wagon creaked to a stop. The journey had taken far longer than any of them expected—mostly thanks to their overworked horse and the combined weight of Boris and Adam—but at last, the familiar wooden walls of the orphanage rose before them.

  A sudden bell rang out from within the compound, sharp and metallic, the sound echoing through the courtyard. Moments later, the sturdy front gate swung open. Aldo stood there, broad grin plastered across his face, waving both arms like a windmill.

  “You made it!” he called.

  Children spilled out behind him, feet pattering across the ground like an approaching storm. Their eyes widened the moment they spotted the baskets.

  “Snacks!” one shouted.

  “Bigger than Uncle Boris!” another exclaimed, pointing at Adam—who froze under their collective gaze.

  A cluster of small hands immediately latched onto Adam’s arms.

  “Lift me!”

  “No, me first!”

  “Higher! Higher!”

  Adam—poor, doomed Adam—had no chance. He let out a strangled noise as three kids jumped into his hold at once. He staggered dangerously but managed to keep his balance.

  “I told you,” Boris said, crossing his arms triumphantly. “I’m not old enough to be your uncle.”

  “Uncle Boris!” one child shouted anyway.

  “That doesn’t matter,” Suri said as she hopped off the wagon. “Kids are honest. You may not be old, but you definitely look like it.”

  Boris let out a wounded grunt, but the kids weren’t listening—they had already swarmed him too, tugging at his sleeves and begging for sweets.

  Then—soft footsteps. A familiar presence.

  When Kana emerged from the doorway, Suri didn’t hesitate. She sprinted forward and wrapped her in a fierce hug, nearly lifting Kana off her feet.

  Kana chuckled, patting Suri’s back. “You must’ve been so worried.”

  “You’re right,” Boris said, approaching with the pastry boxes. “You might not believe it, but Suri’s appetite became that of a normal person—”

  He stopped mid-sentence when Suri shot him a look so sharp it could’ve cut stone.

  Shar rushed in next, sweeping both girls into her arms with enough force to knock the wind out of them.

  Then Lily—Kana’s mother—poked her head out from the doorway. She squeaked dramatically and waved them frantically toward the house.

  “Come inside! Quickly!” she shouted. “It’s getting cold! My goodness, do you all want to freeze out there?”

  Suri laughed. Boris sighed. Adam was still being climbed by children.

  …

  Inside the house, the chaos from earlier melted into a warm, comfortable hush. The children were scattered on the floor and benches, cheeks stuffed with sweet snacks like chipmunk bandits caught mid-raid. Their silence was suspicious—but only because their mouths were full.

  From the kitchen came the sharp, rhythmic clatter of knives and ladles. Lily and Shar moved with practiced ease, cooking an extravagant amount of meat—steam rising, oil sizzling, the rich scent filling every corner of the room.

  Kana sat with the others around the long, wooden table. They’d asked about her trip to the empire, and she explained… selectively. She skimmed past the parts involving almost dying, ignoring the way the memory of the twins’ blades still hovered too close in her mind.

  “There’s something I really like about the empire city,” Kana said at last, leaning back. “It’s warm. Even their nights feel gentler than here.”

  “That’s normal,” Adam replied, shifting slightly as the kid perched on his shoulder chewed loudly into his ear. “My father said most cities in the empire barely get snow. And their summers… are hot enough to melt your skin.” He nodded toward the chimney’s flame.

  Then, a beat. His expression sharpened.

  “Right. Speaking of melting…” Adam cleared his throat. “I spent half of my entire savings on this trip. So—my ninety-five silver coins. Please.”

  He held out both hands like a merchant demanding overdue rent.

  Kana clicked her tongue, low. “Suri overspent again.”

  “Who told me to buy snacks?” Suri said immediately.

  “Meat is not a snack,” Kana countered.

  “I didn’t know! I thought meat was just… a big snack.” Suri stuck out her tongue in full defiance.

  Kana sighed—the long, suffering kind—and reached into her pocket. A faint shimmer of mana flickered as she pulled out exactly one hundred silver coins, their clink echoing across the table. The source, of course, was her [Inventory].

  Adam spread the silver pieces out like a jeweler confirming authenticity, counting one by one, stacking them neatly in piles of ten.

  “You really don’t trust me?” Kana asked, amused.

  “My father says never trust anyone when it comes to coin,” Adam said, dead serious.

  Kana froze. Her eyes widened. Something clicked in her mind.

  “Right… coin.” She tapped her chin. “There should be a coin made of parchment.”

  Adam blinked. “What?”

  “A paper coin,” Kana continued, eyes sparkling as if she’d just rediscovered something important, “Lightweight. Easy to carry. Why are we still using a coin?”

  Suri stared at her. Boris blinked twice.

  “She’s at it again.” Boris muttered.