"Brando?"
A crisp, slightly curious voice rang out downstairs. It sounded like a string of bells falling onto the floor in the darkness, its clear echo carrying a magic that went straight to the heart.
Brando looked as though he had been struck by an arrow. He stood bolt upright, then slowly turned around, stiffly moving his neck as his gaze swept across the shadowy hall and landed on that familiar face.
The Merchant's Daughter looked up at him.
She wore a plain, sturdy leather skirt of the sort commonly seen in the Bucci region. A bulging leather pouch hung from it, and both her hands gripped a hammer resting atop the pouch. She wore thick gloves and a pair of slightly playful round-toed leather shoes. Her long hair was tied high at the back of her head, and her smooth, flat forehead reflected the bright moonlight.
Her dark-brown eyes vividly reflected the same curiosity and concern as ever.
Clang.
The hammer slipped from the Merchant's Daughter's hands and fell to the ground.
Brando opened his mouth.
Yet he could not call out that name.
"The armies of Madara are outside. I'll take you away. This time, they won't be able to stop us!"
"I'll take you to realize your dream. This time, I'll definitely make you the richest merchant in the world!"
"Come with me, Roman..."
He had so much to say.
Yet not a single word would come out.
The Merchant's Daughter folded her hands over her leather pouch and gave him a shy smile with her lips pressed together.
"I know."
"I know Brando cares about me."
"Not just Roman. Brando has dreams of his own, too. That was our promise."
"Do you remember the first time we secretly went out on an adventure? That nasty merchant