The sensation from last night still lingered in the palm of her hand. Cold, yet undeniably warm——the touch of her master's fingertips. She had never imagined Serislan would show such an expression. Whenever she thought of that smile, her chest grew restless, and Milisael shook her head to dispel it. （Today is training too. I have to do it properly） The sixth morning of her training. Today's task was the same as yesterday——gathering medicinal herbs at the forest's edge. Yesterday she had returned to the tower without discovering the source of that gaze, but Serislan had said, "It was not your imagination." Then today, she had to observe carefully and return with answers. The air of Ergnoir was heavy and damp as always. The smell of decomposing leaves and grass. Massive tree roots covered the ground, and with each step, the soil sank beneath her feet. As she approached the outer edge, the moisture gradually thinned, and dappled sunlight began to trace thin lines across the earth. Milisael crouched down to search for shadow thistle. The ones with purple undersides on their leaves——she had grasped the technique a little yesterday. She gently lifted a leaf with her fingertip. A faint purple. She drew out a small knife and carefully severed it at the root, taking care not to damage it. Then. A prickling sensation ran across the back of her neck. The same as yesterday. But today it was much clearer. Someone was watching her. Not the gaze of a beast——an intentional, human gaze. She rose slowly, and while feigning casual movements, she surveyed her surroundings. Groves of trees. Shadows. Leaves swaying in the wind. No one was there. Yet someone was. Milisael turned her awareness to the soul mark on her left wrist——a dark purple pattern that had grown gradually more vivid through her training——and tried to sense the flow of dark magic. The sensing technique her master had taught her. But what she felt now was not the presence of magical power, but something more human. In the depths of the tree shade, near the boundary line leading out of the forest. The presence was concentrated there. Milisael gathered the bundle of herbs again and began walking quickly back toward the tower. --- Meanwhile, several hours west of Ergnoir, in the abandoned village of Ash Crossroads. Afternoon light illuminated the crumbling stone structures. Ivy covered the walls, and more than half the roof had collapsed. The warmth of habitation had long since vanished, leaving only the shell of what once was. Lyael Valdel was methodically checking the interior of each deteriorating building. Silver-gray hair. Ice-blue eyes. The deep battle scar on his right cheek stood out in the daylight. The same work as yesterday. He walked this area thoroughly, searching for gaps in the barrier. As if trying to distract himself from the impatience of not being beside Milisael through action. "[sarcastic]Well, well. The knight returns." A voice came from behind him. Lyael turned, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword. A young man with chestnut-brown short hair leaned against a crumbling wall. An old scar mark on his left shoulder. A light smile on his face, but his eyes were different——they held a sharp light, as if probing for something. Darion Alestra. The mercenary he had encountered yesterday as well. "[cold]……You came back too." He said only that, then tried to turn his gaze away. "I'm here for the same reason." The smile vanished from Darion's voice. The man who usually hid something behind his banter had, unusually, brought it to the surface. "I'm worried about Milisael. That girl is pushing herself pretty hard on her own." Lyael's hand went still. The two fell silent for a while. The same strange coexistence as yesterday. Both wanted to be beside Milisael more than anything, yet both were far from her now. Darion spoke first. "[serious]Yesterday, there was a dark magic reaction in the direction of the ravine. That girl's training must be progressing." Lyael's fist clenched unconsciously. Dark magic. The forbidden art Milisael was learning. As a light knight, he knew he should not permit it. But now, before that thought, something else surfaced——the question of whether she was safe. "[serious]Can she move well enough to go to the ravine alone?" "It's not so much that she can move, but rather……that girl can't seem to stop." Darion sat down on the stone steps, his gaze distant. "She received the Fallen Saint Proclamation, came here alone, and learned forbidden magic. Honestly, I don't fully understand her reasons. But those eyes——they're not the eyes of someone who's given up." Lyael listened in silence. "……I've only seen that girl smile once, you know." Darion spoke as if to himself. But it was not a soliloquy. "I want to see it again. That's all." The words, spoken without turning to face him, were not delivered in his usual light tone. Lyael looked at his profile. （This man too, is serious about Milisael——） Something hot rose from the depths of his chest. Not anger, not impatience——something more urgent. "[serious]I will take Milisael back. That's all." "Take back, huh." Darion gave a bitter laugh. "Don't talk about her like she's an object, knight. That girl has her own will." Lyael found himself at a loss for words. He was not wrong. He understood that. But——since the day they had made their betrothal, he had thought only of protecting Milisael. That had not changed. Could not change. The two said nothing more. On the crumbling stone steps, rivals gazed in the same direction. It was strange, uncomfortable, yet somehow undeniable. --- Evening. When Milisael returned to the Silent Tower with the bundle of herbs in her arms, Serislan stood at the entrance to the training grounds, his arms crossed. "[cold]Did anything unusual happen today?" His voice was lower than usual. His expression was as always——cold, unreadable——but within that "as always" there seemed to be an extra tension. "……Nothing in particular." She had felt the same gaze as yesterday. But she had not met anyone. It was not a lie to say she had not encountered anyone. Serislan silently offered her a piece of parchment. Tomorrow's training schedule. Milisael took it and scanned it. ——Shadow walls, four simultaneous deployments. Night sensing training, additional. "……It's increased." "You seem to be growing complacent with the herb gathering. I'm tightening your discipline." "[surprised]I'm not being complacent! I was gathering properly!" "Tomorrow you begin at the training grounds at dawn. Sleep early." As her master turned on his heel to leave, Milisael thought. （I didn't meet anyone, so why is it increased?） Then she remembered. After meeting Darion on the fifth day, the training had doubled as well. That time, she had definitely spoken with someone afterward. But today——truly nothing had happened. A strange thought began to form, slowly. （Could it be……he noticed the gaze? And thought I might make contact with someone, so he——？） Milisael watched her master's back. His silver-long hair swayed in the dim light of the corridor. （But I didn't meet anyone, so what could he be——jealous? No, that can't be. Jealous of whom? When I didn't meet anyone——） She confused herself with her own thoughts. Her face felt slightly warm, and Milisael hurriedly adjusted the bundle of herbs in her arms. Why did she feel, even just a little, happy about this? --- Night fell. Milisael, who had continued practicing shadow walls in the training grounds, finally sat down on the floor. Her arms were heavy. The soul mark on her left wrist throbbed with heat. Dark magic consumed emotion with each use, but tonight her exhaustion was simpler than that——purely physical. "[serious]Stop there for today." The door opened, and Serislan entered. He surveyed the training grounds and confirmed Milisael sitting on the floor. "If you are tired, rest a while." It was unusual. The master she knew would normally say, "Continue until you reach your limit." "……Look out the window." Milisael stood and followed her master. Rather than ascending the stairs to the fifth floor of the tower, she walked to the narrow window at the back of the training grounds. Through the thin gap in the stone wall, the night of Ergnoir was visible. Dark. Truly dark. The forest canopy obscured the stars, and light could not reach through. But as her eyes adjusted, the outlines of the trees became visible. The black silhouettes of massive trees. Wind blew, and leaves rustled. Only that sound dissolved into the quiet night. Serislan stood beside her. His tall frame of 183 centimeters fit within the narrow light of the window. The silver tattoo on his right cheek seemed to glow faintly in the darkness. "[whispers]Today, I felt like someone was watching me……but maybe it was just my imagination." She had felt it yesterday. She had felt it today. But she could not confirm it. She hesitated to voice her anxiety, but with her master beside her, the words came out naturally. Serislan's expression did not change. "[cold]It was not your imagination." "[surprised]……You knew?" "I suspected from yesterday." His voice was short, certain. "The gaze of a pursuer. There was no sign they intended to harm you, but——" He said nothing more. Yet the weight of what would have followed "but" was transmitted to Milisael as well. "[scared]……I'm scared." She spoke honestly. She had tried to maintain composure, but failed. The sensation of being watched was unfamiliar. When she was at the Seat of Dawn, there had always been guards. Since becoming alone, she had gradually come to understand how difficult it was to protect herself. Serislan kept his gaze on the window outside as he answered. "[gentle]I am here. Do not worry." Just one sentence. Yet the tone of that single sentence——beneath his usual low, cold voice, something different was mixed in tonight. An unwavering certainty, a quiet heat. Milisael, still gazing out the window, felt something warm bloom within her chest. In the midst of dark magic training that should erode emotion, tonight she felt something unmistakably. The two stood there for a while. There were no words. The night wind of Ergnoir entered through the stone gap. The cold air and her master's presence mingled in a strange way. --- Meanwhile, far beyond the forest's edge. Hermes Filcus stood dissolved into the shadow of a tree, gripping a small stone in his palm——a communication stone, a tool for contact that mediated both light and dark magic——in his hand. Jet-black short hair. Cold green eyes. The black mark inscribed behind his ear glowed faintly in the night. "[cold]Target movement confirmed. Dark magic proficiency higher than anticipated——basic shadow manipulation stabilized in six days. Master's presence also confirmed. A forbidden dark sorcerer." Something returned from the other end of the communication stone. Hermes narrowed his eyes. "[cold]Contact postponed to next opportunity. The timing is not yet right. However——" For a moment, his words stopped. "The master may be beginning to notice us. There is a possibility we will need to move faster than planned." He closed the communication stone. The orders from the Veil Chamber——the secret deliberative body that moved covertly within the Seat of Dawn——were not yet to make contact. But circumstances were shifting. That dark sorcerer was quick to perceive. If he continued to probe, some countermeasure might be implemented within the tower. Hermes disappeared into the forest, his expression unchanged. The shadow of the Order drew steadily closer to the Silent Tower. And its master was beginning to sense that shadow.