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After laughing together contentedly, Loki rested her chin on her palm, looking at Lefiya with her characteristic mischievous gaze. "How about you, Lefiya?" she asked suddenly, making the young Elf jump slightly in surprise.
"M-me? What do you mean, Loki?" Lefiya tilted her head in confusion.
"Your alias." Loki grinned slyly. "Now that you've risen to level 4, perhaps it's time you changed to a new title. So, do you want me to whisper something more... cool into the ears of the other gods later?"
Lefiya's ears perked up instantly. "E-eh?! A new alias?" She hurriedly waved her hands, trying to dismiss the topic.
But before she could change the subject, a clamor came from the table across from them. Tiona, who was eating an apple, jumped to her feet with sparkling eyes. "A new alias?! I have a great idea! How about 'Blossom Dame'? Or 'Heaven's Arrows'?"
Not to be outdone, Tione chimed in. "Huh, those are too ordinary. 'Almighty Fairy' is much better! It sounds more fierce!"
"What nonsense, sis! My suggestion is more fitting!" Tiona quickly retorted.
The argument between the two Amazons only grew louder, even attracting the attention of other Loki Familia members in the dining hall. Some contributed their own ideas—ranging from funny ones to those clearly meant just to tease Lefiya.
"How about 'Little Riveria'?" someone joked.
"Heeeh, in that case, I choose 'Miniature Elf Queen'!"
Lefiya's face grew warmer, her fists clenched on her thighs as she bowed her head deeply. "I-I... I refuse all of those!" she exclaimed suddenly, causing all the commotion to cease immediately.
In a slightly trembling but resolute voice, she added, "I still want to be known by the alias I've carried since the beginning... Thousand Elf. That is enough for me."
A moment of silence, then Loki burst out laughing. "Hahahaha! Very well, if that's your wish. Remain as the proud 'Thousand Elf' of Loki Familia!"
Lefiya sighed in relief, though her heart was still racing. Hearing the cheers and laughter of her companions, a sense of satisfaction grew within her—that the title truly reflected who she was now.
After all members of Loki Familia finished eating, the atmosphere in the dining hall gradually quieted. Dirty plates piled up on the tables, and as per their usual routine, Shirou and Lefiya immediately headed to the kitchen to clean up. The sound of splashing water and clinking plates accompanied the faint scent of soap.
"So," Shirou said while drying a plate, "Do you still want to study your Mystery Ability today? I'm ready to accompany you to the Forge, if you have time."
Lefiya, who was soaking glasses in a bucket of hot water, let out a soft sigh. "Unfortunately..." she said in a slightly disappointed tone. "I still need to practice Double Cannon. Lady Riveria said I haven't truly mastered controlling my Mind when firing two spells simultaneously."
She bowed her head slightly, recalling yesterday's training session—the heat of the fire magic that almost exploded in her face, the deafening sound of the double blast, and Riveria's calm gaze as she taught her without many words. "I still often fail to maintain the stability of the magic flow," she continued, "so I have to focus on that first."
Shirou nodded slowly, wiping the remaining water from his hands with a cloth. "That's a good decision. It's better to master one thing completely first rather than splitting your concentration. Mystery won't run away anywhere."
Lefiya gave a small smile, glad that Shirou wasn't pressuring or forcing her. "Hehe, it's really tough, huh, rising to level four," she said in a tone feigning complaint, but the corners of her lips were raised proudly.
Shirou glanced at her and sighed with a soft chuckle, "Hmm, looking at your face now, it seems like you're actually enjoying it."
Lefiya pretended not to hear, but her elf ears felt a little warm. "Not really..." she murmured, then switched to scrubbing a pot with vigor.
Shirou just gave a small snort and resumed cleaning. Amidst the splashing water and the sounds of kitchenware, their quiet atmosphere felt comfortable—like two people accustomed to sharing simple routines without needing many words.
After cleaning the kitchen until it sparkled, Shirou and Lefiya hung their aprons on the wall. The fresh morning air greeted them as they stepped out of Twilight Manor. The sun was already rising, its rays piercing through the gaps in the trees, making the front yard of the manor glisten with dew that hadn't fully evaporated.
"Well then, I'm off to the magic training building," Lefiya said, smoothing her slightly messy blouse. "Lady Riveria is probably waiting already."
Shirou nodded with a warm expression. "Alright. Don't push yourself too hard, Lefiya. If you're too hard on yourself, you'll just end up exhausted before it's time."
Lefiya chuckled softly. "You always say that, but you hardly ever rest yourself, Shirou." She stepped back while waving her hand. "See you this evening, maybe we can continue chatting then!"
"Okay," Shirou replied calmly. He watched the elf girl walk away, her hair swaying gently with her light steps under the morning sun.
Once Lefiya disappeared around the corner leading to the magic training building, Shirou let out a soft sigh and spoke to himself. "Well then... I suppose I'll use today to help out at the Hostess of Fertility again." He rolled up his sleeves, preparing as usual. "Mama Mia will probably be happy to have an extra hand in the kitchen."
But as he was about to pass through the manor gate, something at the edge of his vision made him stop. From behind a thick bush near the stone wall, a strand of disheveled golden hair was visible.
"...Hah?"
Shirou turned, looking more carefully. Behind that bush, Aiz Wallenstein—the Sword Princess herself—was crouching, awkwardly trying to hide. Her shoulders rose and fell slowly; it was clear she was trying not to be seen.
Shirou's lips curled up slightly. "Aiz?" he murmured in surprise, but he chose to pretend he hadn't seen her.
"Well... she must have just finished training Bell," Shirou thought as he walked on, hands in his pockets. "And she's probably trying to avoid Loki so she can have breakfast in peace."
From behind the bush, Aiz watched Shirou's retreating, her cheeks slightly red from the embarrassment of being caught—even though Shirou didn't call her out at all and just continued on his way out the gate.
It was still early, and the air of Orario felt soft and cool as Shirou arrived at the Hostess of Fertility. The sun was just showing its rays between the gaps in the rooftops, making the restaurant's windowpanes reflect a warm, yellowish light. Shirou pushed the half-closed wooden door, the small bell above it ringing softly — cling cling.
"Morning, Shirou~," a gentle voice greeted him. Behind the counter, Syr was already standing with her characteristic smile. She wore her green waitress uniform, her apron neatly tied, as if waiting for his arrival.
Shirou nodded slowly. "Morning, Syr," he replied politely. However, something felt... off. As if the tone of her voice was slightly different—still gentle, but missing something. He couldn't pinpoint it immediately, but his intuition began to vibrate subtly, like a thin thread touched by the wind.
For the moment, Shirou brushed off the feeling and joined her to help. They worked together in a silence that was usually not awkward, but this time felt somewhat stiff. Syr moved a flower vase to the front table, while Shirou began lifting the chairs and stacking them back in their original positions.
But as he lifted the last chair, a faint scent reached his nose, which was highly sensitive to prana and magical energy. Shirou paused for a moment.
"...Hm?"
He took a slow breath, sharpening his senses. Usually, whenever he was near Syr, a subtle divine fragrance would be detectable—a fresh, pure winter flower, a scent impossible for an ordinary human to possess. That scent was always calming, fragrant yet real, like a light mist enveloping the girl's entire being.
But this time... there was none.
All he could smell was an artificial aroma, faint and flat—like plastic flowers sprayed with air freshener. There was no pulse of prana, no divine vibration. In fact, the scent seemed to imitate something that was missing.
"...Strange," Shirou murmured. He glanced towards Syr, who was now bowing her head to clean a table, her blue-gray hair spilling softly over her shoulders. Everything looked normal. Her smile was the same. Her movements were the same. But to Shirou, who was sensitive to life auras, there was something different—subtle yet undeniable.
His eyes narrowed reflexively, his body tensing slightly.
"This scent... is fake," he thought. "This isn't the usual Syr."
He stared a little longer than he should have—long enough for the girl to turn her head with a small smile.
"What is it, Shirou?" she asked lightly, her tone calm, without a hint of tension.
Shirou quickly normalized his expression, hiding his wariness behind a relaxed facade. "Ah, it's nothing, just... I thought you came earlier than usual," he said with a thin smile.
Syr looked at him for a moment, then gave a small laugh. "Sometimes I can be diligent too, you know."
Shirou smiled along, but in his heart, his mind was racing. "...She talks like Syr. Acts like Syr. But her divine fragrance is empty. Whoever she is... this isn't the same goddess I met at the church."
The hand still holding the chair felt slightly heavier. In his head, he repeated one sentence with a cold and wary tone:
"Then... who are you, really?"
While continuing to clean the room, Shirou tried to start a light conversation to test his suspicion. He stared at the floor he had just mopped slowly, pretending to focus, though his thoughts were entirely on the girl working not far in front of him.
"By the way, yesterday when we went to the orphanage... do you think those kids will remember me?" Shirou asked, his tone casual. He swept a pile of dust towards the corner of the room with slow steps.
Syr turned her head with a smile, her voice light and calm as usual. "Of course they'll remember! You were swarmed by them, after all. I even heard one of the little kids say, 'Big Brother Shirou is a hero who can cook.'"
Shirou grinned slightly, but inwardly his eyes narrowed a little.
"She remembers the details..." he thought, slightly wary.
Syr chuckled softly, continuing, "You almost fell over because they were teasing you, right? As usual, my absence from work became longer because of them."
Shirou paused for a moment, the hand holding the broom stopping in mid-air. That was a joke that only the real Syr would know. Back then, only the two of them were there.
"Then... this really is Syr?" he murmured in his heart, slowly lowering the broom.
However, the part of him sharpened by battlefields and deceit didn't calm down so easily. He suspected there were entities—be they human, goddess, or something in between-that could mimic not only form, but also memories. He glanced at Syr, looking for a small flaw in her movements, her breathing, or her tone of voice.
Unconsciously, Syr looked back, smiling softly. "You went to donate to the orphanage yesterday, right? Yesterday evening?" she asked as if without any burden, her voice sounding sincere.
Shirou was slightly surprised because he had gone alone to deliver the donation to the orphanage after work—Syr should know because Shirou was the one who told her.
"Ah—yeah, that's right. I stopped by," he answered a bit haltingly, adjusting his tone so it didn't sound suspicious.
Syr let out a small sigh and patted her waist, making her apron sway slightly. "Hmph, good. Ryuu and I had a hard time cleaning the toilet yesterday. My back is all sore, you know!" she complained in her characteristic whiny tone.
Shirou blinked slowly.
A complaint that was... too natural. Even her expression, the tone of annoyance ending with a small pout on her lips—it all matched exactly what he knew of Syr.
Yet in his mind, the unease only grew. "Her movements are perfect... fake scent, but her behavior and memories are all accurate. If this really isn't Syr, then..."
He looked at the girl once more, who now turned around and was wringing a cloth in a basin, that blue-gray hair moving softly with the motion of her hands. The morning that should have been peaceful had now turned into a silent game between two people hiding something from each other.
"If this really is Syr... then I was wrong to suspect her. But if it's not..." Shirou clenched his jaw slowly. "I'm talking to something that mimics others far more perfectly than I thought."
Behind the soft smile, Syr continued to offer, the air felt a little cold, and Shirou felt that the scent of real winter flowers... was completely absent; all he smelled was the imitation fragrance.
Just as she finished arranging the last chair in the corner of the room, Syr patted her apron and turned towards Shirou, who was tidying up the cloths. The morning light streamed through the window, illuminating both their faces brightly.
"Ah, right, I almost forgot," Syr said, leaning against the table. "Ryuu has a message for you."
Shirou turned, his brow furrowing. "A message? For me?"
Syr nodded while imitating Ryuu's characteristic flat tone, "She said, 'If Shirou comes tomorrow morning, tell him to come to the waitress dormitory. I'll be waiting there for our training."
"Training?" Shirou murmured, remembering their small promise to go to the Dungeon. He slapped his forehead. "Oh right, I forgot about that..."
He looked at Syr with an expression mixed between slight annoyance and amusement. "But why only tell me now, Syr? I've been helping clean up all this time; you could have told me from the start."
Syr clasped her hands behind her back, smiling mischievously while sticking out her tongue slightly. "If I told you from the start, then who would help me clean up~?" she teased in a sweet yet deliberately mischievous voice.
Shirou let out a soft snort, half resigned. "You know, you could just ask nicely. I wouldn't refuse."
Syr leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing with an unreadable, sly expression. "But that wouldn't be as fun, would it?" she said lightly, like a little girl who had just won a small game.
Shirou just sighed. "Sometimes I wonder why everyone around me likes to tease me," he murmured under his breath.
He stepped towards the door, glancing at Syr one more time—the girl's face looked innocent, calm, and cheerful as always. No strange signs remained.
"Alright, I'll take my leave then," Shirou said, raising his hand briefly.
Syr nodded softly. "Take care on your way, Shirou~" her voice echoed lightly as Shirou closed the door behind him.
The atmosphere in the room returned to quiet. A few seconds after Shirou's footsteps disappeared from the doorway, the smile on Syr's face slowly faded. The morning light touched her face, but her gaze was now empty—cold and cracked—as if the mask she wore was finally beginning to crack from within.
"Heh... that man is so predictable," she whispered, but this time her voice was lower, almost eerie. Syr's usual gentle tone was replaced by something bitter, cold, and vibrating on the edge of sanity.
She walked slowly towards the window, looking out. In the reflective glass, the shadow of "Syr" seemed to sway faintly, and behind it, another silhouette seemed to appear—a girl with silver-gray hair, her face filled with admiration, obsession, and sorrow that had accumulated for too long.
A small laugh escaped her lips—soft, but gradually rising into a strangely shrill mix of laughter and sobs.
"Lady Freya is not here... so my task—my task is to replace you. So the world doesn't forget how beautiful you are..." she whispered, her voice trembling between admiration and madness. She looked at her palm, as if the warmth of the goddess's fingers was still imprinted there.
"Whatever your command, Lady Freya... no matter how despicable, cruel, or sinful it may be—I will carry it out without hesitation."
Her eyes sharpened, her pupils shaking like small flames burning from within. "If I must dirty my hands, deceive them, even hurt those you watch over—it's fine. As long as it's for you... as long as it makes you smile."
She bowed deeply, almost touching the floor, then whispered again with a tone full of devotion bordering on fanaticism. "Because I live only for you, Lady Freya... and this world is not worthy of seeing you tainted by anything."
That was not Freya.
The one standing there was only Horn, her most loyal—and most obsessed—attendant.
She looked towards the door where Shirou had left, then slowly smiled again. But this time, her smile curved too widely, her silver-gray eyes shaking like broken glass.
"Such an insolent human..." Horn whispered in a voice trembling with jealousy and hatred, her smile strained while her eyes emitted a wild light. "How dare you look at Lady Freya with that gaze—as if you are worthy of standing under her light. You are not a savior... You are just a moth flying into the flame, and you should burn before you can even touch her."
She turned her body slowly, her footsteps light but her rhythm unstable—between gentle and unsteady, like someone dancing on the edge of madness. Behind every step, there was love, loyalty, and obsession fused into one dangerous thing—a devotion so deep it was painful.