The smoke from the signal fire still lingered thinly in the eastern sky. Raid watched from the window of the cottage as the white streak—meaning they had crossed Koetori Pass, the mountain gateway at the eastern edge of the Hekihou mountain range—drifted out from beyond the ridgeline and dissolved into the pale light of dawn. He rested his elbow on the windowsill, gazing absently. The characters he had added last night caught the corner of his eye. How many more times. The lower right corner of the spell formula book's cover. His own handwriting, yet it looked like someone else's words. Raid's gaze left those four characters and followed the smoke beyond the window. Now that they had crossed the pass, the vanguard of the Akatsume Tide—the massive horde of magical beasts without command structure that repeatedly surged from the eastern mountains—would next target this place. Sixty kilometers away. If they came on human military boots rather than the legs of magnetic-fang beasts—it would be the Imperial Army. "Mister, bathroom?" Lilia's voice came from behind. Lilia sat seiza on the floor, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her silver short bob was disheveled from sleep, and her odd eyes narrowed sleepily. She stared at Raid's back and posed a question of pure innocence. "No," Raid said. "It feels like something similar," Raid added. Lilia tilted her head. Then the door opened. It was Aira. She had apparently been outside since before dawn; morning dew clung to her leather armor's shoulders. Her green eyes looked straight at Raid—and in the next moment, the instant she saw his face, her expression froze for a beat. "That is not the bathroom," Aira said. "I know," Raid replied. A young soldier from the advance guard was saluting at the entrance. "Vice-captain, the brigade's vanguard unit has arrived. We've confirmed the command flag and are heading this way," he reported in a tense voice. Aira immediately turned to leave. Raid didn't move. To be precise, it wasn't that he couldn't move. His right hand rested on his chest pocket, his gaze fixed on a single point in the eastern sky, his feet simply stopped. He could feel the spell formula book in his palm—the thick parchment cover, his own body heat resting upon it. Aira turned back. She saw Raid's face and stopped again. The usual self-deprecating laxness had been completely stripped away. No irony, no complaints—nothing. Just a face quietly braced against something. Aira had never seen this expression before. Lilia stood up and spoke. "So that's what mister looks like when he makes that face," she said. "First time seeing it," she added. Raid didn't take his eyes from the window. "Me too," Raid said. The sound of horse hooves approached the village entrance. --- The man dismounted from his horse with a raised hand and a gentle smile. It was a warm smile. Short hair with white streaks, an old scar along the edge of his left eye. For fifty-three, his movements were economical and precise. His neat military uniform bore the insignia of the Imperial Army's Eastern Frontier Subjugation Headquarters—the Steel Corridor Brigade, an elite unit exclusively responsible for defending the eastern border. Grave Halsion. The brigade commander. And once, a man who had walked the same corridors as Raid through the National Magical Academy—the Toumon Academy, the Empire's only officially recognized magical education institution. A face Raid hadn't seen in eighteen years turned toward him with an unchanged smile. (Unchanged, is it.) Raid processed it internally. An eighteen-year-old unchanged smile. That was proof the meaning of the smile had changed—Raid knew this way of seeing. His observational eye told him so before language could form. "Raid," Grave said. "It's been a long time," Grave continued. "Yeah," Raid replied. A short answer. He said nothing more. --- Toba from the Red Tile Tavern silently lined up four cups of medicinal herb liquor and withdrew to the back. The smell of lamb stew drifted from the kitchen. The tavern before noon was quiet, with only the eastern wind occasionally rattling the windows. Grave spoke in a gentle voice. He described the current state of the Empire's eastern defense strategy. The scale of the Akatsume Tide—estimated at three to five thousand, a leaderless swarm—and its threat. Contact confirmation at Koetori Pass. And Kazami Village—positioned at the edge of the plateau, controlling the invasion route from the east—and its strategic significance as a future defensive stronghold. His narrative was precise, his logic flawless. On the surface, it even sounded sincere. Then, casually, he said: "I need your spell formula technique," Grave said. "Lend your strength to the Empire once more," Grave continued. Raid set the cup of medicinal herb liquor on the table. The movement was so quiet it made no sound. Grave continued: "And regarding the demon tribe girl," Grave said. "I would like to propose her transfer to an Imperial facility in the form of protective custody," Grave said. Protective custody—under Imperial law, a system of confining those deemed to pose danger to facilities under the guise of "safety management." The name was mild, but in substance it amounted to detention. "It would be for her safety as well," Grave said. "Protective custody?" Lilia sat up in her chair. Her odd eyes looked straight at Grave. "That means getting caught again? All the Empire people say is that," Lilia said. The room went still. Grave's smile faltered for just a beat. The muscles around his mouth moved slightly, then returned to the shape of a smile. A flicker lasting less than a second. Only Raid saw it. Aira's gaze turned to Raid. As an Imperial knight, she had no position to refuse an superior officer's request. Her green eyes held a question. Raid received that gaze and traced the rim of the cup with his thumb on the table. "I'll give you an answer by nightfall," Raid said. The sound of a chair being pulled back. Raid stood. As he left his seat, his chest pocket brushed the corner of the table—the chest pocket containing the spell formula book. The motion looked natural, unremarkable. But Grave's eyes followed that pocket for just an instant. In a way only he could see. --- It was the moment the cottage door closed. Raid leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Three seconds passed. Aira and Lilia didn't look at each other, but neither said anything. Then Raid spoke. "I've known Grave since my days at the Toumon Academy," Raid said. His voice was low, emotions suppressed. But the suppression itself told a story. "We had recorded data from a spell formula we researched together. It was still in the hypothesis stage, far from practical application. Grave leaked it to the Imperial Army's weapons research division," Raid said. "When I confronted him about it, do you know what he said?" Raid asked. No one answered. "That it was a necessary sacrifice for the Empire's future," Raid said. That was all. There were no extra words. Words unspoken for eighteen years fell into the air and took shape. The past is like mist until it's spoken of; the moment it's voiced, it finally gains form. Perhaps Raid hadn't spoken of it until now because he understood this. Once words are given form, they never disappear. Lilia listened quietly. Without speaking, her hand pressed against the half-healed scar on her side. That hand moved slightly, as if confirming her own body heat. Aira stepped forward. She placed a cup of water on the table—within Raid's reach. As her fingers left the cup, Aira's fingertips touched the back of Raid's hand. It was impossible to tell if it was intentional. For just a beat, the warmth of Aira's fingertips remained on the back of Raid's hand. It was warm. His battle-honed senses recorded that temperature precisely. Aira quickly withdrew her hand. Her green eyes looked away. Her cheeks flushed slightly—before she could compose that as an expression, Aira turned toward the window. Lilia watched the scene from the corner of her eye. Then her gaze fell on the spell formula book's cover. She said nothing. Three different silences coexisted in the cottage, each carrying its own weight. --- An hour before sunset, Aira returned to the Red Tile Tavern alone. The request for a meeting with Grave was framed as "confirming the legal grounds and procedures for detention." As a knight, she had a duty to confirm procedures. That was true. But whether she moved only out of duty was another matter. She wanted to measure it with her own eyes. What lay behind that smile. Grave answered politely. He explained the legal grounds, the transfer procedures, all in accordance with Imperial law. And near the end of the conversation, he said: "You are an excellent knight, Lady Aira. I assessed you as someone capable of judging by the Empire's future rather than emotion," Grave said. "For someone like that, there is always an appropriate role," Grave said. Aira thanked him with a smile and left the room. As she walked the corridor, she was deconstructing the structure of those words. Evaluation and demand were sewn together in a single sentence. "Because you're excellent," "judge by the Empire's future," "and if you do, there will be an appropriate role"—there was something in common with those words and what Raid had spoken. The same skeleton as "a necessary sacrifice for the Empire's future." Unable to put it into words, Aira opened the cottage door. There she found: Raid and Lilia spreading a topographical map on the floor. The terrain from the Hekihou mountain range to Kazami Village, the position of Koetori Pass, the defensive line at the plateau's edge. Lilia lay on her back, her head resting on Raid's lap, pointing at a spot on the map. "Here, there are lots of stones so the magnetic-fang beasts will slow down," Lilia said. "I was watching last night," Lilia added. Aira came to a complete stop. One second. Two seconds. Raid gently moved Lilia's head to the side—onto the blanket. Then he looked up. His amber eyes, unchanged from usual, looked at Aira. "The report?" Raid asked. Aira froze for a beat, then steadied herself. She wasn't searching for a place to put her emotions—she was trying to make sense of what this scene meant. The weight of the words she'd received from Grave and the atmosphere of this place seemed to tilt something large. "Grave explained the legal procedures for transfer in accordance with the statutes," Aira said. "And then," Aira continued. A beat. "He said that if I'm a knight capable of judging by the Empire's future, there would be an appropriate role for me," Aira said. Raid said nothing. Lilia, still looking at the map, said "Is that a compliment?" Then she continued, "I think it's more like a bribe." Aira pulled out a chair and sat facing them. "I cannot determine whether to prioritize my loyalty to the Empire or my duty to this place," Aira said. It was an unbecoming statement for a knight. Aira herself knew this. She spoke it knowing this. Raid received it quietly. His face held no judgment—neither denial nor surprise. He simply received it. Lilia, keeping her gaze on the map, spoke. "You're saying difficult things," Lilia said. Her voice was calm. Not mocking, but genuinely thinking it was difficult. That contrast made the air in the cottage oddly soft. Gravity and absurdity mixed at the same temperature, and without Aira even noticing, the tension in her shoulders dropped a notch. --- The final confirmation of defensive preparations was complete near midnight. The marked defensive lines on the topographical map, the division of responsibility for each point, the number of wooden stakes for magnetic-fang beast countermeasures. After the briefing with the five advance guard members was finished, when Raid returned to the cottage, Lilia had already sunk into her blanket. Only her silver s