Hesitation

The edge of a forest clearing.

A man, around thirty years old, wearing a worn priest's robe with what appeared to be a few stains on his clothes, stood beside him. Frieren was squatting on the ground, her arms wrapped around her knees, her long silver hair cascading down, her emerald eyes calmly watching him, her face expressionless.

The man gazed at the gray sky, fragmented by branches and leaves, and spoke in a flat tone, as if recounting a story unrelated to himself:

"Long ago, I dreamed of becoming an adventurer. Ah, everyone has some silly dreams when they're young, right?"

"Back then, I had a close friend who often went on adventures and explorations with me. He was a brainless, physically inept idiot, like Gorilla."

"Back then, he called himself 'Gorilla Warrior,' and I called myself 'Goatee Priest'..."

He paused, smiled nostalgically, but quickly composed himself.

"But even though he's Gorilla, he's a good Gorilla who thinks of his friends."

"Just when I was growing up and about to forget those unrealistic childhood fantasies... that guy, carrying a sword, came to me and asked if I wanted to become an adventurer together."

His voice lowered, carrying a barely perceptible ethereal quality.

"Right now, I'm just an ordinary middle-aged man. If I had... grabbed his outstretched hand back then... would my life have been different? It certainly would have..."

He remained silent for a few seconds.

"... That was ten years ago. Even now, I still think about it occasionally."

Frieren blinked, her tone completely flat. "Oh, I see. Then, why are you telling me all this?"

The man turned his gaze to her, trying to keep his tone steady. "My village is holding Harvest Festival, and my older brother sent me here to collect some wild herbs. And then... as you can see, I fell into this bottomless swamp."

Although half of his body was submerged in the swamp, the patient is currently in stable condition.

He tried to move his arm, which was stuck in the mud, and with difficulty, slowly stretched out a hand covered in slippery black mud toward Frieren. Muddy water dripped from between his fingers.

"I'm... pretty much finished. But, if you grab my hand now... maybe something can change?" He looked at her, a glimmer of hope in his eyes, "Just like... how he reached out his hand to me back then."

Frieren remained seated, hugging her knees, her gaze fixed on his filthy hand, her face expressionless.

"Wait a moment," she said, "Let me think about it."

The man's breath hitched; the feeling of mud pressing against his chest intensified, but he still managed to maintain his composure. "... Is there anything in what you just said that needs further consideration?"

Frieren tilted her head and said honestly, "Your hands are so dirty."

"... This is absolutely not the time to worry about whether people's hands are dirty or not, little girl." He took another breath, seemingly sinking deeper into despair, with a touch of helpless sigh. "Besides, you have to understand, adults... are inherently dirty."

Frieren nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I agree with that. But," she looked at the hands again, emphasizing, "I still find adults who are physically unclean somewhat repulsive."

She raised a finger and tapped her temple. "Could you give me a little more time? Let me recall the magic that 'pulls people out of this bottomless swamp.' It's been too long since I used it."

The man, watching his body sink a little further, urged with a wry smile, "Then please hurry up."

Frieren closed her eyes, seemingly trying to think. After a while, she opened her eyes. "Ah, I remember now."

Just then, footsteps and voices came from the woods.

"Lady Frieren, have you finished gathering the herbs? We're almost done." Fern's voice came as she and Lowell walked over one after the other.

Lowell spotted the man in the swamp and the composed Frieren on the shore at a glance, raising an eyebrow. "What's this?"

The man stuck in the swamp seemed to see a glimmer of hope, forcing a smile, "Hello, you two... Could you... help me out?"

Lowell crossed his arms, clicked his tongue, and laughed at Frieren, "Good heavens... let's see who dares to say I'm slacking off from now on. The slackers are right here."

They said goodbye to Kraft a few days ago. They hadn't spent much time with him, only five or six days, since Fern didn't like staying in one small house all the time.

However, the wind and snow were indeed quite heavy, making it difficult to move around. So Lowell placed them in his spatial dimension and then flew away with them. Fern's magic allowed him to stay in his own alternate dimension for quite some time.

Frieren ignored his teasing, stood up, and a staff appeared in her hand. She pointed it at the man in the swamp, and a soft, guiding light emanated from the tip of the staff.

With a soft "whoosh," an invisible force enveloped the man, pulling him abruptly from the sticky mud, raising a cloud of mud, and then gently placing him on the firm grass on the bank.

The man sat on the ground, breathing softly, his body covered in black mud, looking rather disheveled.

The group followed the rescued monk back to his village. The village was small, exuding a simple and peaceful atmosphere. Preparations for the Harvest Festival filled the village with a busy and festive spirit.

Fern bowed slightly to the man in farewell. "I'm very sorry, sir, Frieren has caused you trouble." Her tone was as polite and considerate as ever.

The man waved his hand, his lower body still covered in mud and water. "It's alright... she saved me in the end, didn't she..."

Fern's voice was gentle yet carried an undeniable force. "No, I'll give her a piece of my mind later."

Frieren: "!"

She was startled, deflated, pouted like a kitten, and rubbed her fingers together, looking like a frostbitten eggplant.

Lowell followed behind, watching this scene, and couldn't help but chuckle, earning him a rather intimidating eye roll from Frieren.

Frieren knew that she probably couldn't avoid tonight's "lecture time."