The Story Takes an Unspeakable Turn

Wickel was a Forest Hunter. The profession itself wasn't particularly surprising, though everyone who first learned of it found it beyond imagination—they were hunters who lived in the forest. Perhaps their families had done so for generations; even if they hadn't, no one knew which territory they had once belonged to as protected subjects.

The forest was far more dangerous than people imagined, and these hunters lived surrounded by that danger. Unlike ordinary hunters, they didn't support a home in some village by selling their prey.

No one knew why they lived in the forest, yet they had always lived there.

To those who enjoyed the comforts of life, these Forest Hunters were nothing but madmen.

Bang—!

That morning, Wickel arrived before his home—a small wooden cabin in Eisole Forest. He tossed the prey slung over his shoulder, a fairly large deer, onto the ground. No one knew where he had gone hunting, but the muscles exposed on his arms were dry and free of sweat, making it clear that he hadn't found the trip difficult at all.

Then he heard an unusual sound. He was accustomed to every noise around him, so this unfamiliar sound stood out—but he quickly realized it was the doing of his "guest."

Thinking of that guest, even though she was a noble, Wickel felt nothing. Forest Hunters feared no noble. They weren't tenants on any lord's land and didn't need land bestowed by a lord to survive. So they didn't worry about which count they might have frightened yesterday, or which duke they might be inconveniencing today.

Naturally, they didn't care if some noble young lady ran around in the forest and nearly got herself killed.

The only reason he hoped that noble young lady would return home soon was that she was troublesome.

Wickel headed toward the cabin, and the hunting dog that had followed him finally ran back to his side. Wrapped in black-and-white fur, the dog looked rather small. Without a closer look, one might have mistaken it for a breed favored by nobles. It was hard to imagine an experienced Forest Hunter like Wickel bringing such a dog hunting with him... or rather, such a pet.

"You didn't find where the Magic Potion came from." The hunting dog eagerly rubbed against his leg, but its tail drooped as it barked a few times. Wickel understood its thoughts perfectly. "Fine."

"You're back!" Wickel was tall, while the cabin was small, so he quickly reached the back of the house. The noble young lady making all that noise there naturally spotted him and greeted him.

The noble girl who called herself Fatenai Frayton had tied up her golden hair. After several days, the wound on her arm had healed quickly thanks to the specially mixed herbs she had prepared. Today, she had come behind the cabin with an iron sword to practice against a tree.

Wickel knew nothing about swordsmanship. He only thought Fatenai's swordplay was a complete mess—and that she was ruining a perfectly good tree.

"Are you hoping not to fall behind in your swordsmanship lessons?" Wickel asked.

"No. I'm hoping that next time I swing my sword, you'll mock me a little less," Fatenai said.

After a few days, Fatenai had more or less figured out how this Forest Hunter usually spoke. He rarely talked, but his tongue was sharp. Every time, he could criticize her until she was utterly stripped bare.

For the first time, Fatenai was grateful that Cachey had taught her for several years. To her, this indirect kind of mockery was far better than Cachey's barbed scoldings. So she wasn't afraid of it at all.

"If you think you have enough energy, fulfill your promise sooner." Wickel only used his sharp tongue once; he wouldn't compete with Fatenai over it.

Fatenai nodded. "All right. I think I can set off now and search for the truth behind the boars' berserk state with you... But what do we need to bring? Water? Food? Some tools? Um... perhaps weapons?"

The more Fatenai spoke, the less confident she sounded.

Ever since her unpleasant conversation with Hermes that night, she had tried every possible way to change how she treated people, even though she didn't want to admit that Hermes was right. At the very least, she didn't want to keep viewing others through the eyes of a noble.

But only now did she realize how difficult that was. Ever since arriving in this world, she had been the eldest daughter of the Wisdom Family. She had never had much contact with the lives of those who weren't nobles, and after twelve years, even her memories of how she had spoken with people before had grown increasingly faint.

And the profession before her was still extremely unfamiliar to her.

"You don't need to learn those things," Wickel said.

Fatenai felt discouraged and thought Wickel was being stubborn. But she wasn't someone who gave up easily. "But I don't want to cause you trouble—you don't want me causing trouble either, right?"

Wickel thought about it and seemed to agree. "Focus on carrying things easily. Everything's the same, since enemies could rush out anywhere..."

Fatenai was conflictedly glad for Wickel's stubbornness as she listened intently, so intently that she

wanted to write all of it down. Of course, she couldn't find any paper or pen, so she could only think about it.

In the end, Fatenai still put on equipment that felt incredibly complicated to her. She changed into leather armor that was somewhat too large for her—even though it was the smallest set Wickel could find. He also gave her two daggers and had her place them where she could easily reach them. It made her previous preparations feel like a child's game, completely unserious.

Wickel, who left as soon as he decided to, had already entered the forest while Fatenai was still sighing over it. She could only jog after him.

"Is this your dog?" Fatenai followed behind Wickel, with the hunting dog alongside them. Seeing it, she was somewhat surprised.

She found it strange that a hunter as large as Wickel would bring such a "tiny" hunting dog.

"I don't need a hunting dog. It refused to leave, so there was nothing I could do," Wickel said.

"Then it's very persistent," Fatenai praised the hunting dog. "It's actually quite pretty. If its fur were groomed properly, lots of people would definitely like it."

Wickel retorted, "But it chose to stay here, so it shouldn't exist to serve a noble's whims."

Hearing Wickel bring up nobles again, Fatenai couldn't help feeling irritated. At the same time, she wondered whether this Forest Hunter was implying that she shouldn't keep thinking like a noble. Unfortunately, Wickel's expression didn't change in the slightest, so she couldn't tell what he was thinking from his face.

Once Fatenai stopped deliberately making conversation, Wickel didn't take the initiative to speak either. Since Fatenai said nothing, neither did Wickel. He simply kept walking forward, making it difficult for Fatenai to keep up.

But Fatenai didn't dare say anything.

It wasn't as if she had never walked long distances before, but that had been a long time ago. At present, she was only a twelve-year-old girl. Before long, she felt dizzy and lightheaded.

Fortunately, Wickel soon stopped. They passed a tree, and in the clearing ahead lay a boar's corpse.

The little hunting dog barked uneasily a few times. Wickel ignored it and walked over to the boar, crouching down to inspect the corpse carefully. Fighting down her discomfort, Fatenai approached and asked, "Did you find anything?"

"It's female. Whoever killed it was very skilled. They took it down before it could react." Wickel glanced at her. Even though Fatenai couldn't quite hold herself together and showed some discomfort on her face, he miraculously didn't mock her. Instead, he explained.

Fatenai looked where he indicated and saw that the wound wasn't large, though based on Wickel's words, it must have been deep.

"Was it killed by a hunter? What kind of weapon was that, a spear?" Fatenai asked.

"Maybe." Wickel stopped looking at the boar's body and turned his gaze elsewhere, as if searching for something. He lowered himself and rummaged through the grass in the clearing.

"What are you looking for?" Fatenai couldn't help asking again.

Wickel didn't answer. He simply continued his movements back and forth until Fatenai watched him search the entire clearing once. Then he frowned slightly.

Fatenai had seen that expression on Duke Wisdom's face before. At the time, the Wisdom Family had faced an extremely troublesome accusation—actually, a whole series of them. The usually confident Duke Wisdom had been overwhelmed by the trouble and worn that same expression.

"This isn't the first time?" Fatenai tried to interpret his expression. "You're looking for... footprints?"

Though she was confident in herself, she was troubled because her past experience didn't seem useful this time.

Wickel said nothing, but the faint surprise on his face told Fatenai that she had guessed correctly.

"Then perhaps it was caused by Mana. I think I can do something," Fatenai said. Familiar patterns appeared once more on the back of her hand, restored to their original state this time.

She activated the Eye of Connection, and everything before her changed. The flow of Mana became clearly visible. The Mana in the forest wasn't much denser than that in the Royal Palace; instead, there were traces of Mana having gathered around the boar.

To Fatenai's delight, she could also see Mana clearly flowing away from the boar's corpse and toward a certain direction. Though she didn't know precisely what it meant, it was obviously some kind of indication.

"Perhaps there'll be evidence over there." Suppressing her excitement, Fatenai pointed in that direction and spoke to Wickel.

But unexpectedly, Wickel stared that way in silence for a while, then turned toward the opposite direction. "Forget that way."

"What are you talking about? You're giving up this opportunity?" Fatenai looked at him in surprise, increasingly anxious over losing this chance to prove herself.

Yet Wickel showed no sign of wavering. "No need to go that way."

Then, without looking back, he walked in the opposite direction.