The first light of morning had not yet broken through when it began. It was a low sound. Not a human voice, nor the sound of wind. Something closer to the vibration of earth, resonating from deep within the belly. One throat's voice awakened another, and yet another responded—the entire settlement becoming a single vessel, trembling. Aira's eyes opened, and her hand was already reaching for her sword. Her body moved before her consciousness could catch up. That was the result of a knight's training. She surveyed the dim interior of the abandoned hut. A floor scattered with dead leaves, pale blue light leaking through the gaps before dawn, Lilia wrapped in a blanket— (She wasn't there.) Lilia was gone. The door stood slightly ajar. Aira kicked off her blanket and rushed outside, sword half-drawn, dressed in something closer to sleepwear than leather armor. From the center of the settlement, she turned toward the direction the sound was flowing from—and stopped. Bonfires formed a ring on the stone pavement. Orange flames still flickering. Around them, the residents of the demon settlement stood in a line, producing the same low sound. A rhythmic vocalization as if their breathing was calculated, spreading through the mist, making the entire forest seem to groan. In the center of that ring stood Lilia. Naturally, as if it were the most obvious thing, she stood at the same interval as the demon woman beside her, producing the same sound. Her silver short bob was dampened by the morning mist, and the faint traces of the horns on her forehead reflected light slightly. Her eyes were half-closed. It was impossible to tell if she was asleep or awake, yet her feet were firmly rooted to the ground. "Ominous," a low voice came from beside her. It was Raid. He had emerged from the abandoned hut at the same time as Aira, also in sleepwear with pale blue scars exposed on his left arm, holding a grimoire rather than a sword. He must have grabbed the most familiar thing in his half-asleep state and rushed out. He was walking with his waist slightly favored. Aira realized she was still standing with her sword half-drawn and slowly returned it to its sheath. Her cheeks burned. As a battlefield judgment, it was correct. But at this moment, the two of them standing vaguely outside the stone ring—they looked ridiculous no matter how you looked at it. Calva was leaning against a stone wall some distance away, arms crossed, watching them. His face was barely holding back from covering his head. That kind of expression. The ritual ended when the sun crossed the mountain's ridge. Lilia returned to them. Morning dew clung to her cheeks, and her eyes were slightly moist. It was unclear whether she had been sleepy or moved. "That was a purification ritual of the demon race," Lilia said. "What does it do?" Aira asked. "You direct your voice toward atmospheric magical essence—the magical power drifting in the air. Demon bodies naturally have magical power flowing through them from birth, and that flow becomes disordered during the night. By voicing in the morning, you align the magical power inside your body with the atmosphere—you reset it. The reason the settlement people voice together is because a larger wave can be created that way than doing it alone. I heard about it from my mother long ago. You humans pray in the morning, right? She said it was something similar to that," Lilia explained. Raid spoke while leaning a grimoire against the wall. "There are similar descriptions in the Magical Academy's texts. This is my first time seeing it in practice." "You brought a grimoire when you rushed out," Lilia said. "Be quiet," Raid replied. Lilia laughed aloud. Aira did not laugh—did not laugh, but felt her mouth move slightly, so she turned her face away. *** On the second day of their stay, Golte, a middle-aged demon and subordinate of Calva, arrived. He was a man whose age was unclear—somewhere between his late thirties and forties. Broad shoulders, thick arms. Both eyes were almost uniformly black, his face revealing no emotion. In his case, the rudimentary horns unique to demons remained small on both sides of his forehead, and their symmetrical arrangement gave him an odd intensity. For the residents of this settlement, humans had long been "those who come from outside and take things away." Each time the Empire's development policy pushed the boundaries of the Emerald Twilight Forest outward, the demon settlement shrank. Within that history, even if Calva reluctantly permitted the three to stay—for Golte, a member of the settlement, distrust of humans occupying this place was natural. There was no obligation to voice it. Confirmation would suffice. Golte looked directly at Raid, then silently offered an axe. It was firewood stacked behind the settlement, partially dried logs. A bundle of logs piled to eye height. Golte's gaze was clear—let's see how far this human mage can go. If he can't even manage one simple physical task, he has no right to be a burden on the settlement. Raid looked at the axe for just a moment, then took it. He said nothing. There was no sign of using magical power. He didn't explain or negotiate conditions. To stay in this settlement meant using the settlement's time and space—that was all. He simply placed a log on the stand and swung the axe down. The first one was unimpressive. It split diagonally, slightly off-center. Golte's gaze changed. As expected, that kind of thing, his eyes said. Aira watched from a stone wall some distance away. She thought Raid might say something back. She thought a quip might come. But nothing did. Raid placed the next log on the stand. This time he changed the angle slightly and swung down. The second one was slightly better. The third one split cleanly. Aira realized that at some point, she had fixed her gaze on Raid's movements with her arms crossed. She could see he was favoring his waist. His left arm's scars caught the sunlight and glinted occasionally. But there was something different in the details of his movements from yesterday—with each swing, it became subtly smoother. Was it that his arm muscles were becoming accustomed, or something else? The air of the Emerald Twilight Forest was dense. Compared to the Empire's side, the atmospheric magical essence density was different enough to feel on the skin's surface. The demon settlement's deep roots in the forest were not unrelated to that density. That density might be touching the rusted magical circuits—the pathways of magical power whose flow had dulled from long disuse and damage—and affecting them. Aira had no means to confirm this, but her knight's observational eye picked up only the fact that "his movements are different from yesterday." Something in her chest held warmth for just a moment. It was a sensation difficult to explain. Neither obligation nor concern. Something simpler and more troublesome than that. By mid-afternoon, Golte's gaze had changed, not overtly but noticeably. From a checking gaze to a measuring one. There were no words, but that was enough. *** That same evening, Lilia returned to the abandoned hut unusually quiet. She had been helping with medicinal herb selection with a girl her age from the settlement—a girl named Salpha, with the rudimentary horn remaining larger on her right side, seeming active and spirited. But the Lilia who returned had a slightly clouded expression. Raid was leaning against the wall, looking outside. He said nothing. Lilia sat down beside him, hugging her knees. She was silent for a while. From Lilia's demeanor, Aira could tell Salpha wasn't a bad person. The cloudiness wasn't from receiving malicious words. It came from deeper inside, like she had realized something. She didn't ask. She simply sat beside her. The night forest darkened quietly. Bonfires began to light one by one. The air of the Emerald Twilight Forest grew slightly cool as evening came, and in its place, a sweet scent drifted from the trees. Completely different from the Empire's frontier, it was the deep scent of earth. After a while, Lilia opened her mouth. "They said my demon language is strange," she said. "Who said that?" Raid asked. "Salpha. I could tell from her face it wasn't meant badly. But she asked if I was better at the Empire's language—" Lilia stopped. There was a pause as if she were searching for how to put the rest into words. "I didn't even know if I was better at it," she said quietly. The usual lightness was gone from her voice. Raid looked at the sky. Stars were beginning to appear. The night sky of the Emerald Twilight Forest had a slightly different color than the Empire's side. Perhaps the density of atmospheric magical essence affected light refraction—fragments of knowledge from the Magical Academy came to mind, but there was no need to say it now. "It doesn't matter," Raid said. Lilia turned to face him. "Whether you're better or not isn't the issue. In either language, you're you," he said. Lilia was silent for a while. Then the tension between her eyebrows eased slightly. She probably wasn't completely convinced, but her breathing seemed easier. "You say things like that sometimes, don't you?" Lilia said. "It only works if I say it rarely," Raid replied. "So you said it yourself?" Lilia asked. "Be quiet for a bit," Raid said. Lilia laughed. A slightly brighter laugh than before. *** The next morning's meal took an unexpected turn. The settlement's meals had their customs. The ladle—the long-handled spoon for serving food—was held in the right hand, and the bowl was always supported with both hands before tilting it once. It was a demon gesture showing gratitude to the atmosphere, and Lilia had learned it from Salpha the night before, but Raid hadn't been informed. Raid held the ladle in his left hand and the bowl in one hand, eating normally. Golte, sitting across from him, turned to stone. He completely stopped moving. Like a rock, as if something significant had happened but he didn't know how to respond. Salpha tried to suppress her laughter and failed spectacularly. Aira leaned in close to Raid's side in a low voice. "The ladle should be in your right hand, the bowl in both hands—" That's when she realized. She was also holding her bowl in one hand. She closed her mouth. Golte slowly moved his gaze from stone-like stillness to Aira. Aira straightened her spine and, with a composed expression, held her bowl in both hands again. She switched the ladle to her right hand as well. Raid glanced at Aira sideways. Aira was looking forward. "You were also making mistakes," Raid said. "...One should be quiet while eating," Aira replied. Salpha's laughter leaked out. Lilia joined in laughing. Golte melted slightly from stone. He didn't completely crumble, but the area near the rudimentary horns on his forehead moved subtly. Probably the closest thing to a wry smile. That single moment changed the atmosphere of the table. They weren't completely at ease. But between stone and stone, a small gap had formed. *** On the third day's evening, Aira went to the water source alone. The water source at the settlement's edge, a spring arranged with stacked stones. A habit after finishing the day's work, washing hands and face. The water was cold. The sun was tilting, and the water's surface rippled in orange. She submerged her hands. The cold transmitted from her fingertips. She splashed water on her face. The cool sensation melted away a day's worth of tension. Footsteps sounded. She turned to see Raid approaching. He seemed to have finished the firewood-splitting work, with wood chips clinging to his upper garment. Walking backlit by the setting sun. His waist movement was still awkward, but it seemed easier than yesterday. Raid stood slightly beside Aira and crouched down. He put his hand in the water. Then he removed his upper garment. Aira was looking f