For a long while, no one spoke.

  All that remained in that place was a quiet presence—and the fading aftertaste of what had vanished.

  Rynel finally opened his mouth.

  His voice was low, careful.

  “A child that never existed…

  being remembered, even briefly, as if it had…”

  His words trailed off.

  Too much had already passed to state anything with certainty.

  Aira nodded and added,

  “…It wasn’t only because of the evil spirit.

  It happened because someone truly *needed* that existence.”

  She took a small breath, then continued slowly.

  “A hollow space in someone’s heart…

  and that child filled it, in their place.”

  As her words ended, the surroundings began to settle.

  The warped air felt like it was returning to its proper shape.

  The sensation that had been pulling at them loosened, little by little.

  Then—

  A soft light fell from above.

  A gentle ripple spread, and a path opened in the space overhead.

  It felt like a warm touch.

  That upward road was a portal—leading back to reality.

  Ivela’s voice seeped through, faint and urgent.

  “The rift’s closing. This is the last chance—hurry!”

  Rynel held a hand out to the children.

  “Come on. Let’s go home.”

  The children hesitated.

  Their eyes wavered as they stared at the light, and their feet wouldn’t lift—as if glued to the ground.

  Then, slowly, they took Rynel’s hand.

  The moment they felt its warmth,

  tears gathered at the corners of their eyes.

  “…We can really go?”

  Aira gave a small smile and nodded.

  “You don’t belong here.

  Someone’s waiting for you.”

  The children moved toward the portal—quietly, but with clear steps.

  The closer they got to the light, the stronger the trembling became.

  The light spilling from the portal began to quiver.

  It flickered—unstable, like someone struggling for breath.

  A sign the rift was reaching its limit.

  Aira turned toward it as well.

  That was when—

  The entire rift shuddered.

  *Thud.*

  A cracking sound spread underfoot, and the space shook violently.

  Even the air carried the sound of mana collapsing in a rush.

  Rynel shouted.

  “Now! Run!”

  The children and Aira kicked off at the same time.

  Light wrapped around them, and their forms began to return to reality—slowly, as if being pulled through.

  A pressure clamped at their ankles,

  like if they were even a heartbeat late, they’d be swallowed.

  In the final instant, Aira looked back once.

  An empty rift.

  The evil spirit, the children, the illusions—gone…

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Only silence remained.

  Nothing at all.

  Aira closed her eyes briefly.

  And like a last goodbye, she whispered—so softly it almost didn’t exist.

  “…Bye.”

  Then she vanished into the light.

  *Crackle.*

  The rift closed completely, and everything sank into stillness.

  Rynel dropped to one knee and caught his breath.

  As if his lungs had been hollow, the inhale dragged on for a long time.

  A single thread of wind passed behind him, and the battle from moments ago felt like a nightmare receding into distance.

  He quickly checked the children.

  “Good. They’re both okay.”

  The children still looked dazed.

  But they were alive.

  Even if their eyes shook, even if their fingertips trembled—

  they were here. Clearly here.

  Rynel lifted his head.

  Aira was beside him.

  She sat with her eyes closed, a faint smile at her lips—

  as if she were holding something she’d only just managed to sever, carefully, in both hands.

  Inside, Aira repeated it quietly.

  *…The last promise I made with my parents.

  That we’d meet again someday.

  That I would remember…*

  Her gaze dipped for an instant.

  *Honestly… sometimes I thought about it.

  What if… they’d already forgotten me.*

  *Years without a single word.

  What if… I’m the only one still bound to that promise.*

  Aira let out a slow breath.

  It left her without shaking—very quietly, very steadily.

  Then she raised her head, small but firm.

  *Even so, it’s fine.

  Because I still… remember that promise.*

  ◇

  The edge of the village, early morning.

  The children’s eyes widened.

  And in a burst, they ran toward the source of sound.

  Their steps were trembling, but they had no reason to stop.

  Feet nearly tangling, they still pushed forward—again and again.

  Children thrown into an adult’s arms.

  Choked sobs and breaths of relief bursting into the morning air.

  Voices breaking, hands shaking, arms tightening.

  Then one of the children stopped for a moment—

  and turned back.

  Looking at Aira, still seated on the ground,

  the child bowed slowly.

  A quiet bow.

  Sincere enough to linger.

  Aira watched, then smiled softly.

  It was her answer—without words.

  Tears and laughter, and the breaths of relief that kept spilling out.

  The children had returned.

  But Ivela didn’t let the moment pass untouched.

  She asked, like leaving a small question behind—

  “What about the third child?”

  Aira lowered her gaze for a moment, then answered calmly.

  “The people of this village…

  can’t remember that child.

  Because it never existed to begin with.”

  Rynel nodded, then asked.

  “Then… how did it appear?”

  Aira’s eyes fell.

  A voice she couldn’t forget echoed in her ear—

  that look, that last request.

  “Because someone… truly wanted that existence.”

  “A hollow space in their heart—

  and that child was filling it instead.”

  Rynel closed his eyes.

  He stayed silent, as if he’d fallen into thought for a long time.

  Words like *erased* and *remained* collided in his head.

  “…In the end, that child didn’t exist.

  But for a while… it must’ve been real comfort to someone.”

  Aira exhaled quietly.

  “Yeah… that’s why it hurts more.”

  “It wasn’t real—

  and yet it still held someone up…”

  Silence flowed for a moment.

  A slow breeze brushed through the morning air.

  Where crying had calmed, only breathing remained—steady, even.

  Rynel added in a low voice.

  “Just because it was erased… doesn’t mean it was all nothing.”

  “If it touched someone’s heart, then that’s…

  proof it existed.”

  Aira listened, then nodded slowly.

  And one last time, she looked toward where the rift had been, and whispered—very softly.

  A quiet farewell, for something that shouldn’t have existed.

  That was when—

  The calm presence trembled all at once.

  A magic circle formed silently on the ground.

  Red mana threaded through precise engravings, and a man stepped out as a robe hem fluttered at its center.

  A white robe.

  Red mana markings stitched along his shoulders and sleeves.

  At his waist hung the insignia of the Kingdom Adventurers’ Association.

  And in his hand was a faintly glowing gem.

  Ivela lowered her posture instantly.

  Rynel stepped back at the same time, power gathering at his fingertips.

  “…A man from the Kingdom?”

  Ivela said low.

  The man didn’t take a fighting stance.

  He only lowered his gaze calmly.

  “I’m with the Kingdom Adventurers’ Association.

  Investigator—Arzen.”

  His voice was neat, controlled.

  A short introduction, but it carried unmistakable authority.

  Rynel narrowed his eyes.

  “Thanks for the help.

  But you’ll have to explain why you interfered with our request.”

  Ivela followed quietly.

  “If an Association investigator comes in person…

  then this wasn’t just a simple monster hunt.”

  Arzen let out a faint snort of a laugh and looked away.

  “A proper reason… I expected that line.”

  He glanced to the place where the rift had vanished, then continued.

  “First—thank you.

  Without you, this would’ve become far more complicated.”

  “It wasn’t through official channels, but I’ll recognize it as practical cooperation.

  I won’t deny that you helped.”

  The words were brief—

  but more than his tone, the speed of them sounded sincere.

  “Three years ago, the ‘Pale Remnant’ was an abnormal entity that appeared during a dimensional ritual experiment.”

  “The Association believes that experiment was connected to the Cynic Order.

  We don’t have definitive proof, but the circumstances make them the most likely party.”

  His delivery stayed calm,

  though a thin caution clung to the ends of his sentences.

  “The problem is… that order has completely vanished now.

  No visible activity, and we can’t map their internal structure.”

  “But the remnant surfaced again near this area,

  and its traces started moving—little by little.”

  Rynel’s gaze sharpened.

  “A cult…”

  He hesitated, then spoke softly.

  “Have you ever heard of the ‘Black Sun Cult’?”

  The investigator’s eyes flickered—just slightly.

  A short silence.

  The reaction was clear.

  Arzen averted his gaze for a moment, then answered as if it were nothing.

  “I’ve heard of it.

  A group that collapsed from within and was annihilated years ago.”

  “Records say all core members died in a short span,

  and their headquarters burned to the ground.”

  “After that… nothing is known.”

  Rynel nodded, but his expression didn’t loosen.

  Arzen pulled a small box from inside his robe.

  Inside was a thin, flat silver token.

  At its center was the emblem of the Kingdom Adventurers’ Association.

  “A personal sign of thanks, regarding this incident.”

  “You can think of it as a mark that proves practical trust with the Association.”

  He handed it to Rynel.

  “You’ll definitely have a reason to use it later.”

  It didn’t sound like a prophecy.

  It sounded like certainty.

  “Don’t lose it. Keep it safe.”

  He dipped his head once, then unfolded the magic circle again.

  At the very end—

  from a distance where no one could clearly hear—he muttered, almost to himself.

  “Adventurer from Bobre… Rynel, was it.”

  He looked toward the place where the rift had closed and added,

  “Telekinesis types are rarely used in this era.

  Seeing it applied in real combat at that level… is uncommon.”

  He let out a short breath, then continued.

  “…I should report this upstairs.

  I’ll remember the name.”

  The light of the magic circle flared—then vanished.

  ◇

  A short fight, but vicious while it lasted.

  The three stood there for a while, forgetting how to speak.

  Ivela spoke first.

  “Let’s get back to the village.

  We still have to close out the request.”

  Aira let out a short breath.

  A faint tremor still clung to her fingertips, but her eyes had returned to where they belonged.

  They nodded without words, and started walking—slowly.

  ◇

  Village hall, inside a small office.

  The chief sat behind a desk.

  Without speaking, he opened a drawer and pulled out the Kingdom-certified completion document.

  The stamp ink hadn’t dried yet, and on the paper, the word *Completed* stood clear.

  He set it on the table.

  “Good work.”

  Two short words—

  but they carried restrained relief, and something sincere.

  “The children are back safely,

  and the evil presence that weighed on our village is gone.”

  He didn’t look away as he added,

  “On behalf of the villagers… thank you.”

  Ivela nodded.

  The chief checked the document again for errors,

  then handed over an envelope sealed with a small stamped mark.

  Rynel accepted the completion papers and said slowly,

  “The credit will be recorded, and the report will be organized properly.

  But… what matters more than that—”

  He looked at Aira.

  “Aira.

  You didn’t lose yourself. Not to the end.”

  Aira closed her eyes for a moment.

  Memories overlapped and passed through her—

  the fog of the rift, the children’s crying, the final goodbye, and the morning they returned to.

  Then, after a steady breath, she smiled faintly and answered,

  “Well… as long as I remember…

  I’m still me, right?”

  It wasn’t just a joke.

  It was the voice of someone who had held on—inside an incomplete world.

  Morning sunlight poured in through the window.

  Smoke rose at the village’s edge,

  and somewhere, children’s laughter could be heard.

  The village that had been quiet was beginning to live again—little by little.

  Watching it all,

  the three prepared—quietly—for the road ahead.