After waiting one more day—for extra caution and to let suspicion fade—I decided to move on.

  Staying here and trying to sneak into the village feels far too risky, especially since my disguise is… lacking. Too much of my body is exposed, and I still can’t speak.

  So, as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon and both moons appeared in the sky, I set off across the fields, following the road’s direction.

  I had no desire to walk along the forest’s edge—the place was far too quiet.

  I made sure to stay well clear of the village, far enough that no one would feel inspired to shoot another dozen arrows my way.

  As it turned out, there was more than one scarecrow in those fields, so I managed to expand my “impoverished yet stylish” wardrobe.

  Now I also have gloves made of very stiff fabric and a long, hole-ridden scarf.

  The fields ended abruptly, giving way to open steppe.

  I wrapped my head tightly in the scarf, leaving only slits for my eyes, and—finally—stood up to my full height.

  The village was out of sight, and I sensed no living presence nearby. It was safe to walk.

  I stepped calmly onto the road.

  With any luck, it’ll lead me to the next settlement, where I can gather information—about what’s happening, where things are, and how to proceed.

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  Moonlight casts a magical glow over the land.

  The grass blends into a vast steppe sea, whispering softly in the wind.

  Somewhere far off, a lone bird calls—not singing a tune, but beckoning, as if summoning someone.

  Above, countless stars speckle the high sky, forming mysterious patterns.

  I managed to recognize only one constellation: something resembling a sword.

  More than twelve stars form its blade, hilt, and crossguard.

  The tip points directly toward one of the moons.

  Unusual.

  In moments like this—so breathtaking, so vast—you realize how much you miss having someone to share them with.

  Someone to walk beneath this starry sky, to discuss the quiet magic of the world, to remember the past and dream of the future.

  As an undead—really, just a pile of bones—I feel no hunger, no pain, no cold.

  But it seems my soul still longs for company. Even just one like me.

  I walked and pondered the beauty of this world until the sky began to lighten.

  At the first hints of dawn—visible far earlier here on the open steppe than in the forest—I carefully inspected my appearance.

  I was afraid some patch of bone might still be visible, so I tightened every strap and knot I could.

  The last thing I want is for my trousers to fall mid-conversation, revealing not only the absence of undergarments—but of everything that should be inside them.

  I wound the scarf even tighter, leaving only two narrow slits for my eyes.

  After one final glance at myself, I strode confidently down the dusty road—further and further from the fields, and that silent, watchful forest.