The sensation of the back of her hand lingered, as if it were still there. Lira's eyes opened inside the tent, and the first thing she did was look at her right hand. Nothing. No nail marks remained. But in her fingertips, there was a memory—the temperature of Kael's grip from last night, and the precise pressure of his touch. Without hurting her, yet without letting go. Both existed simultaneously in that sensation, and Lira had been turning it over in her mind repeatedly before sleep, as if to confirm it. It was an emotion. Kael had moved of his own accord. Each time she recognized this, something deep in her chest tightened and loosened at once, a heat she couldn't quite name. She was afraid to give it a name. A person's back appeared at the tent entrance. It was Thorne. Facing outward, sitting in a watchman's posture. The red mesh in his short black hair was swallowed by the pre-dawn dimness. The silver piercing in his right ear caught the faint light. This back knew everything from last night. Sensing Lira stirring, Thorne turned slightly. Their eyes met. For just a moment, something wavered in his golden gaze—before she could read what it was, his eyes turned forward again. "Movement orders came through," Thorne said. His voice was flat, as if emotion had been compressed and sealed away. Lira started to say "understood," then stopped. She thought she should say something about last night, but didn't know what. Thorne said nothing either. In that silence lay everything from last night's campfire to the curse mark seizure, packed densely together. The camp was beginning to move. The sound of canvas being folded, metal clanging, low voices exchanging orders echoed from all directions. The Ash Flame Company was mobilizing toward the next base—it was the morning air of departure. Lira still didn't know where Kael was. She pushed aside the blanket and stood, checking the cloth on her left arm. Last night's soul vein consumption had been severe. She traced the pattern's sensation with her fingertips over the fabric—it still remained spread to the edges. Not fully recovered. A faint heaviness lingered in her fingertips. She stepped outside the tent. The morning air of the camp was rigid. Torvain Forest—in western Astrum, where evergreen broadleaf trees grew so densely they blocked sunlight even in daylight—its dawn was less about light breaking through than darkness simply thinning. The forest's unique phenomenon of soul vein residue drifting as mist crawled along the ground. The commander of this section of the Ash Flame Company's cellular command structure—a brown-haired woman with an old sword scar on her right cheek—stood before the central tent. "Everyone, prepare for departure to the second camp. Begin moving within the hour." The order was short and efficient. Lira surveyed the surroundings. About a hundred soldiers were moving. Somewhere— "Intruder!" A voice rose from the perimeter. It was sharp. Not a warning voice, but a capture alert. Lira reflexively ran in that direction. Thorne moved simultaneously. When Lira saw the person being brought in, she stopped. They were covered in mud. Long, dark navy hair hung in tangles of branches and dirt. There should have been a faint purple gradient at the tips, but it was invisible now. The hem of the skirt was torn, and the left arm bore scratch marks. Only the small silver star-shaped piercing in the left ear gleamed clearly through the mud. Pale violet eyes trembled the moment they caught sight of Lira. "Lira... ma'am—" Mira's voice was hoarse. She was breathing hard. Yet with just those few words, she called Lira's name. Mira ran. She tore her arm free from the soldier's grip—or perhaps the soldier, startled, loosened his hold—and with mud-covered feet, ran straight toward Lira, throwing herself against her chest. Lira took a step back. The impact was nearly a body check. Yet her arms naturally caught Mira's head. "Mira? Wait, why—what are you doing here—" Lira asked. Before an answer came, Mira's shoulders shook. She was crying. Without making a sound, just trembling, she buried her face in Lira's chest. Her slender fingers gripped Lira's clothing as if afraid to let go. Lira couldn't speak. For now, she simply placed her hand on Mira's head. Slowly, gently, she stroked the dark purple hair, nearly black. From a distance, she felt someone's gaze. It was Kael. Standing at the edge of the camp, he didn't stop his preparations—but for just a moment—his eyes turned toward Lira and Mira. He took in the distance between them at a glance, then quietly looked away. That single second felt strangely long to Lira. She couldn't read what Kael was thinking from his expression. But he had seen something. That much was certain. "Did you come alone?" Lira asked. Mira finally lifted her face. Her eyes were red. The mud on her cheeks had dissolved into streaks by tears. Her fingertips trembled slightly—not from habit when speaking, but from genuine exhaustion and tension. "Yes. I was so worried about you, ma'am. I couldn't bear to stay still," Mira said. "Alone, all the way to Torvain Forest? Without even knowing the way?" Lira asked. "I brought a map. But I got lost twice along the way," Mira said. Thorne let out a low whistle. It was half amazement, half exasperation. "Can't tell if that's impressive or reckless," Thorne said. Mira looked at Thorne. Her expression suggested she was noticing him for the first time. Thorne raised a hand lightly. "I'm Thorne. I'm traveling with Lira," he said. He spoke politely, but his eyes moved with an appraising quality. --- During the preparation for movement, the camp was in chaos. As Lira equipped herself alongside Mira, she considered how to explain things. Honestly, she was happy Mira had come. She could tell Mira was worried about her. But coming here alone—Mira understood how dangerous that was, didn't she? "Mira," Lira said. "Yes," Mira replied. "I'm not angry. But I was scared," Lira said. Mira blinked. "That I came, ma'am?" Mira asked. "That something might happen to you," Lira said. Mira's pale violet eyes wavered. Her trembling fingertips stilled. "...I'm sorry. But I couldn't stop myself," Mira said. Her voice was slightly hoarse. Lira couldn't respond. She understood the weight of those words—"couldn't stop myself." At that moment, Kael passed nearby. Naturally, Lira took a step closer to him to check on his curse marks. She glanced at the space beneath his sleeve on his right arm—where the curse mark pattern showed most prominently—to assess how much of last night's consumption remained. Mira watched something flow between them. By the time Lira noticed, Mira's complexion had changed. Not as if blood had drained from her face, but as if she had understood something. The distance between Lira and Kael, the way Lira's gaze moved, its naturalness. Mira had instantly read something beyond words. "Um," Mira said. Mira moved. She slipped between Lira and Kael. She bumped her hip against Kael's sword sheath. There was an awkward clanking sound. "Oh!" Mira gasped. Kael took a step back. Several nearby soldiers instinctively turned around. Their expressions asked what was happening. "I-I'm sorry," Mira said. Her voice trembled. But beneath the apology lay something other than apology. Lira understood. One of the soldiers began to smile wryly, but seeing Mira's serious expression, quickly straightened his face. It took less than two seconds for the air to return to tension. Kael said nothing. His deep green eyes looked at Mira for just a second, then at Lira, then forward. At a distance, Thorne watched the entire exchange. His golden eyes narrowed. He saw something in Mira's action—a blocking move. But the root of that motivation resembled his own feelings terrifyingly. That simple, uncontrollable desire not to lose Lira. A strange pain shot through his chest. It wasn't quite jealousy. It was something closer to empathy—a shared understanding with someone being burned by the same flame. --- The new camp was located in a depression beside a river, about two hours' walk east of the old camp. As night fell, the four of them moved in different directions. Lira sat by the campfire, checking her left arm's curse mark pattern again. The recovery was slower than expected. Perhaps last night's soul vein consumption had reached deeper than anticipated. Thorne took a watch shift at the perimeter. Mira— When Lira noticed, Mira was nowhere to be seen. (Where did she go?) She started to search, then stopped. She felt a presence in the distance. At the camp's edge, where the trees opened enough to see stars, two people stood. It was Kael. Alone, looking up at the starry sky. His short hair, silver-white mixed with black, touched by the night breeze, his curse mark patterns floating like shadows in the dim light. A bearing heavy and quiet, like a samurai. Mira walked toward him. Lira reflexively followed. But before she could call out, she heard Mira speak to Kael. Lira stopped in the shadow of a tree. "May I have a moment?" Mira asked. Kael turned. He didn't speak. He simply looked at her. "How much do you understand about Lira's soul vein condition?" Mira asked. Her tone was calm. But her voice trembled slightly at the end. She hid her fingertips inside her sleeves. "How much soul vein did Lira consume last night?" Mira asked. Kael said nothing. "Dark magic burns the soul vein itself. Unlike normal magic, which merely channels it, dark magic consumes it. The more it's used, the more life force is directly depleted," Mira said. Her voice dropped lower. "Last night proves it. To suppress your curse mark seizure, Lira burned her soul vein. At that volume, at that frequency—if it continues, Lira will—" Mira said. She paused, choosing her words. "Being beside you is eroding Lira. Do you understand that?" Mira asked. Kael listened until the end. Silence fell. No denial. No rebuttal. Lira held her breath in the tree's shadow. The content of Mira's words—she already knew. She understood it herself. Being beside Kael meant that each time his curse mark seizure came, Lira would burn her soul vein. That was fact. But what gripped Lira now wasn't that fact. It was the weight of Kael's silence. He didn't deny it. He didn't argue back. That silence—Lira understood it came from the complete alignment between Mira's words and the question that had always existed within Kael himself. He had always been thinking the same thing. He had always known he was eroding Lira. Lira watched his profile from the shadows. Kael's silhouette against the starry sky. Motionless. Showing no emotion. But what existed within that stillness—Lira now knew. (I still want to be beside him.) The moment she thought it, the words took shape in her chest. Even knowing she'd be eroded. Even knowing it was dangerous. The desire to be beside Kael finally took linguistic form. She was afraid. She had admitted it. There was no turning back now. Mira turned on her heel. The dark navy hair receding into the night. Kael didn't move. He remained standing, looking up at the stars. Lira took a step forward. The sound of dried leaves crunching. Kael must have sensed her presence. But he didn't turn around. As Lira approached, Kael began to walk. The familiar form—cutting off conversation through preemption, the motion of avoidance. Lira watched his back. He's running again, she thought. She turned to leave. Her arm was grabbed. An arm extended behind him, catching Lira's wrist. When she turned, Kael's deep green eyes were focused—clearly, distinctly—for once. It was emotion. Something was emerging from beneath the restraint. Lira couldn't speak. Kael didn't speak either. He simply held her wrist. The warmth of his hand transmitted through her. The pressure—without hurting her, yet without letting go. It was the same as last night. Something in