Arnold was having a hard time navigating through the forest.

  The deeper he went, the denser the wilderness became. Trees stood close, their canopies knitted together to form a big ceiling. A muffled crunch of damp earth reverberated with each of his steps.

  Yet, this was almost a relief.

  Above him, the sun hung high, its golden light spilling through cracks in the foliage. Rays pierced through the sea of green leaves, scattering into soft beams that danced against the forest floor. The way they swayed with every breeze made the scene look almost ethereal.

  ‘So pretty,’ Isa’s voice chimed softly in his mind.

  Arnold didn’t comment on it. This was Isa in spectator mode. In reality, the experience was far from pleasant.

  The forest was damp and sticky, a mess of dirt and buzzing insects. The humid weather didn't help; it made his body’s sweat linger, and he could feel himself getting more and more sticky with each step.

  Fortunately, his attire was exquisite. Despite the noble’s outfit being more suited for salons than wilderness, the quality of the cloth kept him surprisingly comfortable.

  The breathable fabric allowed air to pass through while shielding him from the insects. The gloves protected his hands, and the boots were sturdy enough to handle uneven ground.

  On his way out, he had methodically thrown down rocks to mark his path and left small marks on the trees, ensuring he wouldn’t lose his way back.

  “Hmm,” he thought, pausing for a moment.

  *squeak*

  On his shoulder sat a small companion, a gray-furred mouse with beady eyes.

  The tiny creature twitched its whiskers and looked around, its nose sniffing at the air. Somehow, it had followed him from the mansion’s kitchen, crawling up his coat until it found refuge atop his shoulder.

  “You’re getting bold,” He smirked and stroked its head.

  High above, a small bird was circling above the treetops. Izzy had possessed it back at the mansion, using it as a set of eyes in the sky. Controlling its flight had been difficult at first, but with practice and Isa’s guidance, he’d learned to let it glide naturally on the wind.

  He handed the creature’s control to Isa, using the small bird’s eyes to locate his position and navigate the dense forest from above. With this aerial view, they could map the land more efficiently.

  ‘We won’t get lost with this combination!’ Isa spoke cheerfully through their shared mind.

  That confidence lasted only ten minutes.

  Without warning, Arnold’s knees buckled. His vision blurred, colors bleeding at the edges, and the forest spun like a whirlpool. He dropped to one knee, catching himself against a moss-covered root.

  “Ugh…”

  The mouse on his shoulder leaped off and scurried into the underbrush. Overhead, the bird faltered mid-flight; it plummeted toward the canopy, colliding with a rustle of leaves.

  ‘What happened?’ Izzy raised an alarm in his head.

  Arnold’s body didn’t exactly hurt, just a sudden wave of disorientation, as if he’d stepped through something.

  To put the sensation into words, it was like walking through a wall of water.

  He blinked a few times to regain focus. Afterward, he reached through his mental link, seizing control of the bird that had fallen into the branches above and flapping back into the air.

  From the bird’s high vantage, he looked down, widening his eyes in disbelief.

  “The mansion… disappeared?!”

  Through the bird’s eyes, where the grand silhouette of the mansion should have been, there was nothing. Only endless forest, miles and miles of trees.

  At the same time, inside the attic, Isa jerked upright in alarm. Using the green-eyed girl’s vessel, she rushed toward the window, pushing the lace curtain aside.

  Her gaze darted across the forest. From her view, she could still see the silhouette of Arnold, albeit not clearly due to the distance, but he was there.

  “Arnold?” she said in confusion. Why could she still see him?

  On Arnold’s end, using the bird’s eyes, he saw nothing. Only green stretched endlessly to the horizon.

  They looked in each other's direction; realization spread across their faces.

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  ‘So that’s why! No one had found the mansion!’

  The mansion was concealed by some kind of power!

  Before Arnold could think further, the sound of crunching dirt and snapping branches cut through the forest from behind, startling him.

  “Who?!”

  Arnold jumped back. His hand slipped beneath his coat, tightly around the hidden knife’s handle. He gazed toward the source of the sound cautiously.

  The figure sauntered from the shadows of a tree with a composed demeanor. There was no sign of hurry or hostility in his gait. His features slowly emerged into Arnold’s view.

  Arnold’s eyes widened, but soon his expression shifted to puzzlement.

  The man looked utterly ordinary; there was nothing that stood out. He wore a well-tailored black suit, buttoned neatly from chest to waist, with faint silver thread trimming along the cuffs and lapels. A tailcoat was draped over his suit, matched with a white bowtie.

  He looked like any refined gentleman in this era. Arnold guessed he must be a rich merchant, or a wealthy person simply exploring the world.

  The man removed his top hat with a courteous gesture, revealing clean blond hair neatly parted down the middle.

  His face was angular at the jaw, with sharp cheekbones. He bowed with flawless posture, politely smiling at Arnold.

  “Good day, sir. I’m a traveler who just arrived here. Do you happen to know the way to the nearest village?” The self-proclaimed traveler asked in a friendly tone.

  ‘Traveler?’ Arnold’s suspicion flickered, though he kept his tone steady.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t help you with that. I also don’t know the direction, you see.”

  The traveler looked at him, a hint of puzzlement in his eyes, but he soon chuckled under his breath.

  “Oh, really?” His gaze lingered on Arnold before his polite smile returned. “That’s unfortunate.”

  He dusted off his coat with his gloved hand and soon bowed again.

  “Allow me to introduce myself. The name is Mister Gentle. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  Who would introduce themself as Mister? Was this an etiquette of this era? And gentle, really?

  Arnold released his grip on the hidden knife and thought for a brief moment.

  “Right, my na–”

  “I don’t see your master around here. May I ask where she might be?”

  Before he could return the introduction, Gentle cut him off with a strange question.

  ‘Master?’ Arnold frowned beneath the bandages.

  “I don’t understand what you mean, I don’t have a master.” he replied.

  Gentle’s pleasant smile lingered, but his eyes studied Arnold carefully. He put his hand on his chin and nodded to himself.

  “Ah, I understand," Gentle said after a pause, dipping his head politely. “It seems I mistook you for someone else. My apologies.”

  “That’s alright. It happens,” Arnold nodded, not lingering on his mistake.

  Gentle chuckled softly. He straightened himself, slipping his top hat back onto his head and adjusting it. Afterward, he lifted his arm, gesturing toward the winding dirt path leading deeper into the woods.

  “If you don’t mind, I could help guide you toward the village,” he offered kindly.

  ‘Hmm?’ Arnold thought, surprised by the offer.

  Hadn’t this self-proclaimed traveler just said he didn’t know the way? Arnold shook his head.

  ‘Maybe I misheard it.’

  “Sure, that's very kind of you.” He answered Gentle evenly, trying not to sound so offensive.

  “Then, shall we?”

  Gentle’s smile deepened as he turned and walked down the narrow path. Arnold cautiously followed a few steps behind. The forest canopy swayed gently above them, scattering mottled shadows across the trail.

  He didn’t trust Gentle, of course. Only a fool would. But neither could he afford to reject the offer, especially since he didn’t know the way around here. It was better to leave it to chance.

  If this self-proclaimed traveler turned out to be dangerous, he would simply flee. Arnold was just a vessel, anyway. They wouldn’t die easily.

  Minutes passed. Gentle never spoke again. The only sounds were the crunch of leaves beneath their boots and the whisper of wind through the trees.

  Occasionally, the top hat man would glance up at the treetops, as though orienting himself, and continue forward.

  Throughout the journey, Arnold scanned his surroundings with the bird’s eyes and watched for any potential traps, his hand never far from his knife under his coat. His heart drummed relentlessly in his chest, but he calmed himself down with his simple logic.

  Izzy wouldn't die even if Arnold died. Although there would be some pain, there was no need to be on high alert all the time.

  Yet, contrary to Arnold’s expectation, nothing happened to him. This gentleman did not do anything suspicious; he just led the way in silence. And Arnold respected that.

  Finally, after what felt like half an hour of walking in silence through the gaps in the branches, Arnold could make out vague plumes of chimney smoke.

  The self-proclaimed traveler slowed his pace and turned slightly, pointing toward the open clearing ahead.

  “The village is over there.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Arnold exhaled, easing his tension. He offered a small bow of gratitude.

  Gentle inclined his head in return. “Please have a good day, Mister Arnold.”

  Arnold nodded and walked in the man’s pointed direction.

  Before he got too far, Gentle’s voice rang out. “Oh, one more thing.”

  His pleasant voice made Arnold pause mid-step and glance back.

  Gent raised his hand and pointed toward the opposite direction: the invisible mansion’s direction.

  “Please do not wander into the east again,” he said. “There is nothing there.”

  Arnold tilted his head in puzzlement, but still bowed to him politely. “Thank you for the reminder, sir. Have a good day.”

  ‘What a weirdo,’ he thought, shaking his head as he continued down the dirt road without looking back.

  Once Arnold’s figure was out of his sight, the blond-haired traveler’s smile faded. He unbuttoned his cuff and walked toward the tree’s shadow.

  yes, mr. Gentle is his name, and no, he’s not Lord Theodore Thomas Blackwood, nor is he a sea slug.