“Heh. You’re not late.”

Early morning, just as the sun rose, behind the Cavalry's rear gate.

As soon as their eyes met, Inon—arms crossed and waiting—grumbled bluntly. His gaze was sharp, as though he could guess exactly what had happened last night without needing to see it firsthand. Yuder only arched an eyebrow, expressionless as ever. Kishiar, standing beside him, answered in his place.

“Ha ha. Oh dear. Was the pharmacist expecting us to be late?”

“Well, I did hear it was a rather important day yesterday, didn’t I?”

“That’s right. I also heard you gave Yuder some good advice. Thanks to that, I had a very fulfilling day. I’d like to sincerely express my gratitude.”

Kishiar’s tone was suave, unfazed by any hidden meaning in Inon’s words. He reached out and offered him a small, well-wrapped package. Inon accepted it with clear reluctance, peeking inside—only for a slight twitch to cross his cheek. From Yuder’s experience, that was the face Inon made when he liked something but refused to admit it.

The contents of the package were, of course, lemons.

After a moment, Inon turned his gaze to Yuder and spoke silently with his eyes.

‘Did you put him up to this?’

‘No. He brought them out on his own.’

Hard to believe—but absolutely true.

Yuder had woken up intending to head to the dining hall to get some lemons for Inon. But the moment he stepped out, Kishiar had handed him that package without a word. When Yuder asked how he knew he was going to look for lemons, Kishiar just smiled lightly and said, “You always send him a gift after seeing him, don’t you?”

In other words, since Yuder had clearly gone to Inon for help again, Kishiar figured he’d want to prepare a gift and did so in advance.

‘I guess it saved me the trouble, but still...’

“...These are even better quality than what the Cavalry kitchen usually stocks.”

At Inon’s dry remark, Kishiar touched his cheek with a bashful, yet utterly shameless smile.

“I wasn’t originally supposed to join the trip this time, but thanks to your generous permission, I was able to tag along. I wanted to send something to show my appreciation—and I heard the pharmacist had a particular fondness for lemons, so I contacted the palace. I’d be happy if you enjoy them on the way.”

Inon looked down at the lemons, then slowly picked one up and bit straight into it—peel and all. If you didn’t know it was a raw lemon, you might’ve thought it was some lemon-shaped bread, the way he acted so unaffected.

After swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbing sharply up and down, his expression softened just slightly.

“Let’s go.”

Kishiar smiled like he’d just received royal permission.

The three of them quietly rode out from the Cavalry headquarters. Inon only spoke again once they passed through the northern gate of the capital.

“Doesn’t matter when I leave—it always feels shitty riding out of the capital.”

They all knew where they were going, so there was no need for further explanation. After about an hour of riding, the paved road gave way to untamed plains. Far ahead stretched a dense forest and an old fence.

A sign posted at the fence clearly bore the imperial crest and the words: “Sanctuary Forest.”

‘No guards, just as expected.’

Now that he saw it with his own eyes, it really sank in—this place was nothing more than a historic forest now.

After dismounting, they let the horses loose to graze freely. The well-trained animals would stay nearby, waiting calmly until their riders returned. Yuder stared quietly at the undisturbed scenery of the woods, then followed behind Inon, who was already striding boldly inside.

“Hm. Been almost a thousand years, but nothing’s really changed.”

“...Seriously?”

He’d expected it, but hearing Inon casually drop “a thousand years” into conversation still felt surreal. It was probably more bizarre because Inon’s outward appearance was so youthful. Kishiar, a history enthusiast, seemed intrigued in his own way and asked curiously,

“So when you say ‘a thousand years,’ you mean you haven’t come back here once since you left?”

“Well, that’s about right.”

Usually Inon would have left it there, but after a pause, he unexpectedly continued.

“I didn’t feel the need... and more than that, I didn’t want to. My last memories of this place aren’t exactly pleasant.”

Yuder had never heard how or when Inon left Ghilandre Hill. This was also the first time he’d mentioned having bad memories of it.

“And yet you decided to come this time.”

“Because it was necessary.”

As expected, Inon’s words were brief and blunt—but there was a faint complexity in his tone that was rare to hear.

Kishiar seemed to sense it too and didn’t press further.

They kept walking, the chirping of birds guiding them deeper into the woods. Yuder glanced upward, confirming they were nearing the heart of the forest.

‘At this rate, we’ll see the First Emperor’s statue soon.’

Just as he thought, the top of the tall statue began to peek out from between the trees.

The statue of the First Emperor stood on a square pedestal about the height of an average person. Unlike other statues found in the capital or across the Empire, this one didn’t depict him in armor or wielding a sacred sword. It hadn’t even been properly maintained—exposed to time and weather, parts of it had eroded away. At a glance, it looked too plain to be a hero’s likeness.

‘But up close, you can tell it’s him for sure.’

All statues of the First Emperor had been made right after his coronation. Since he died not long after, no later models were ever made. Had he lived longer, they might have sculpted him older—but in the end, only this single image remained.

Tall, with a short haircut like a newly enlisted soldier. A face full of dignity, yet somehow distant and expressionless. Scars clearly visible on his arms and hands.

Countless portraits had used this image as their basis—embellishing and beautifying it in many ways—but this statue did the opposite. It emphasized the scars. Unlike the others, which covered his body with armor and cloaks to make him look unblemished, this one exposed every wound.

Yuder stood in front of the statue, gazing up at it as if seeing it for the first time in a long while. Despite the age of the sculpture, it looked surprisingly like Kishiar. Their features were different—Kishiar was far more striking and graceful—but the ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) shape of the face, the overall impression, and most of all their height and build made them appear unexpectedly alike.

‘...That’s what I used to think in the previous life, too.’

The man stood like someone out for a walk rather than a warrior, his face turned toward some distant point deep in the forest. His faint smile was still somehow expressionless.

Being a statue, you couldn’t read its gaze or its mood—but the subtle weariness etched into that faint expression was unmistakable.

Because it was the same expression Kishiar had worn more and more often near the end of his previous life.

On the pedestal was a short inscription, elegantly carved, praising the hero who saved the world. Surrounding the inscription was a classic, ornate border—which, in his past life, had served as the key to opening a secret chamber where the World Sphere had been hidden.

As Yuder reached toward that border, Kishiar stepped beside him and spoke quietly.

“You don’t look well.”

“Do I? I didn’t think I did...”

“No, the commander’s right. What’s with that statue?”

Inon, who had been lazily scanning their surroundings, joined in. Yuder hesitated for a moment, then moved his hand along the stone frame with practiced familiarity. He pressed the corners in a specific pattern and slid the inscription—revealing the faint sound of stone grinding as a hidden compartment opened in the base of the pedestal.

“Huh? What’s that?”

“A secret space.”

Of course, it was empty.

Yuder stared down into the dusty void, a strange feeling creeping over him.

“Back ‘then,’ I kept something very important in here. I was the one who guarded it.”