On the southern side of Cornwall, at the edge of the Nameless Forest, beneath the faint morning mist, a Blonde Girl in a blue bowler hat crouched before a stall piled with miscellaneous odds and ends, staring at a middle-aged human who had approached her.
"Little miss, please take pity on me. I haven't eaten anything for three days and nights."
"But sir, your complexion looks quite rosy. You seem to be in good health."
Faced with this energetic tale of misery, the Blonde Girl blinked and scratched her head in confusion.
"Appearances! It's all appearances! Actually, while searching for food yesterday, I was attacked by the Fang Tribe and nearly lost my life. I was even left with a very serious wound. Look, if you don't believe me."
The middle-aged man tugged up his trouser leg slightly, revealing a centipede-like scar on his leg, his face filled with sorrow.
"But this looks like an old wound. It's already scabbed over. And the Fang Tribe attacks by biting—this looks more like a wound from a farming tool? It must have happened a long time ago, right?"
The girl poked the hard scab, confusion rising in her eyes.
"Yes, when I was young, I was disobedient and insisted on taking a freshly sharpened sickle to pick berries by myself. Who would have thought..."
The middle-aged man smacked his lips, memories welling up within him. Sitting cross-legged on the ground, he began recounting the past as though chatting about household matters.
But when his eyes landed on the little face propped on her hands, listening with great interest, he realized he had misspoken. His gaze immediately drifted away as he coughed repeatedly.
"Cough, cough... appearances! It's all appearances! You're too young to understand. That Fang Tribe member was an expert. I fought