Erika watched with wide-eyed curiosity as the scene sprouting from the horizon grew closer.The blurred blocks of color and silhouettes gradually broke apart, becoming clear and distinct.
The rust-patched blades of the windmills,the leaning watchtowers on the town walls,the messy oilcloth sheets stretched across shack roofs,and those moving specks—yes, they were people—dressed in all kinds of clothing, walking hurriedly or lazily,sometimes alongside slow, burdened livestock.
A rough, noisy, yet strangely vivid sense of life washed over him,a violent contrast to the dead silence and suffocating oppression of before,and the emptiness of the wilderness.
"Darenz."
Erika unconsciously repeated the name in his heart.
The cold, ominous image conjured by the word "wrong" he'd heard earlier didn't seem to match this…how should he describe it?
Strange. Chaotic. Yet filled with a kind of savage vitality.
After so many pale, dark, and violent scenes,these intense colors, sounds, and movement stirred within hima feeling of… bewildered attraction.
"It's beautiful," he murmured aloud.
It was the most direct, most unadorned feeling.
"Hm. I think so too."
An old, hoarse voice, heavy with accent and carrying a certain lazy ease,suddenly chimed in from very close by, picking up his words.
Erika jolted. His heart leapt.
He'd been focused on the distance—he'd completely ignored his surroundings!
He whipped his head around, his gaze quickly sweeping over Cole,who still lay motionless beside him.
Then, on guard, he began crawling on hands and knees toward the front of the straw pile.Rough stalks scraped against his elbows and knees.
He reached the edge and cautiously peeked over.
The view opened up dramatically.
They weren't lying on some "moving patch of straw-covered ground."
They were lying atop a tall, loosely packed stack of golden straw,piled on an old, sturdy wooden ox-cart with large wheels.
The cart was being pulled by an ox with gray-yellow hide and heavy bones,its steps slow and steady.
Up front, on the cart's crude driver's seat,sat an old man, his back to them,leaning lazily against the overflowing, fluffy straw pile behind him.
The straw formed a small, shifting patch of shade above his head,blocking part of the scorching sunlight.
The old man didn't turn around.
He seemed utterly unconcerned by the two extra "passengers,"with no interest in conversation—simply immersed in his own leisure.
Not long after, the cart gave a gentle jolt as its wheels rolled over something.
Erika looked down.
The wild, overgrown ground had been replaced by a clearly defined dirt road,pressed firm by countless footsteps.
Its surface was uneven,etched with wheel ruts and footprints,dust lifting faintly beneath the wheels.
The ox-cart had officially entered the road,moving steadily toward that smoke-threaded, multicolored town,and the high-flying green and purple flag.
Beneath him: dry, warm straw.Ahead: a gradually clarifying foreign town.In his ears: the cart's creaking, the wind, distant voices and animal calls.
Cole still "slept" beside him.The unknown driver remained silent as a mountain.
Erika pulled his head back and sat more securely on the straw, hugging his knees.
As Darenz drew ever closer,the haze brought on by beauty was quickly replaced by something more practical—a mix of nervousness and confusion.
What kind of place… was this?And how would their "vacation" begin?
Before he could untangle more thoughts amid the cart's jolting and the approaching clamor—
A hand slammed down on the back of his neck with irresistible force.
"Unh!"
Caught completely off guard, Erika was violently pressed face-first into the straw,his vision instantly flooded with golden yellow.
Dry stalks scraped his face.Bits of straw lodged in his nose, bringing sharp irritation.
"Lesson two," Cole's voice came right by his ear—low, steady, even carrying a thread of lazy amusement,a stark contrast to the force he was using.
"Stay alert."
Erika struggled fiercely for a moment,but Cole's hand was like an iron clamp, pinning him in place.
Half of Cole's weight pressed down on him.He caught the mixed scent of straw and sweat.
"You're beautiful too," Cole added casually,as if commenting on the weather—the words absurd beyond measure.
Erika's protest came out muffled, his face still buried.
"What kind of joke… I'm going to throw up."
Cole chuckled softly.
The pressure eased slightly, but didn't release.
He wiggled his free index finger in Erika's narrow field of vision,like a mocking pendulum.
"Don't question me," Cole said slowly,as if imparting profound wisdom.
"Lesson three.Don't forget my teachings."
He's completely making this up on the spot, Erika thought angrily.
First lesson? Second? Third?This was clearly just impulsive teasing and inexplicable control.
In a fit of stubbornness, he twisted his head away,choosing to stare at another expanse of endlessly swaying golden strawrather than look at Cole's face—which he was certain was wearing a smug grin.
However—
The very moment he turned his head—
The surroundings exploded without warning into loud, chaotic cheers.
"Ooooh—!""Welcome! Welcome to Darenz!"
The voices surged from every direction—men, women, old, young, uneven yet brimming with near-frenzied enthusiasm.
Whistles.Clapping.The shrill sound of some instrument being strummed without skill.
Erika snapped his head back around,forcing his eyes open despite his awkward position.
Cole had fully released him.
He was standing upright now,his upper body straight.
A brilliant, almost exaggerated smile was plastered across his face,white teeth flashing.
He raised both hands high,waving broadly and theatrically at the crowd—like a triumphant hero or a beloved leader on parade.
That grimy white robe,caught in the afternoon heat and golden sea of straw,was somehow made to look strangely flamboyant by his movements.
Sunlight poured over him without restraint,illuminating every crease carved deep by his grin.
He waved.Even blew a kiss toward some direction.
Smooth. Familiar. Effortless.
The cheers swelled higher as the ox-cart rolled slowly into the crowd lining both sides of the road.
Erika remained sprawled on the straw,still stuck in the awkward posture from being shoved down,staring up at Cole basking in the light and applause.
Then he glanced around at the excited faces, bewildered.
A gust of wind kicked up straw and dust,slapping against his face.
He blinked, slightly dizzy from the sunand the sudden clamor.
The "vacation."Darenz being "wrong."These ridiculous "lessons."This carnival-like welcome—
They churned together, impossible to sort out.
Only the ox-cart beneath them kept moving steadily,carrying them toward the fiercely fluttering green and purple flag,into this cheering, chaotic, golden… "beauty."
Cole spread his arms wide, movements loose,as if embracing the noisy air, the sunlight, the cheering faces.
He held the pose—standing atop the straw like a ridiculous yet oddly solemn statue—until the cart slowly left the lively area behind.
The cheers faded like a retreating tide,replaced by creaking wheels, wind, and the town's inherent clamor.
The crowd vanished.
On either side of the road:sparse shacks, piled junk,the occasional idle figure squatting in the shadows,watching them with clouded eyes.
"You'll have to manage on your own from here,"the old driver finally said his first complete sentence.
His voice remained hoarse and flat.He didn't turn around—only tapped his whip lightly toward some direction ahead.
The cart kept moving, slow and stubborn, showing no sign of stopping.
Cole lowered his sore arms, turned, bent down,and hauled the still-dazed Erika to his feet.
Not gentle.But effective.
"Yahoo—woohoo! Vacation!"
Cole shouted suddenly,his tone almost childishly exuberant,the drawn-out ending painfully clear and out of place in the quieting air.
Before the words fully faded,he grabbed Erika's arm—
And jumped.
"Ah!" Erika managed only a short, sharp cry before being pulled stumbling off the still-moving edge of the cart's straw pile.
His feet hit the hard, dry dirt road with a thud, dust bursting upward. He staggered several steps before Cole grabbed him and pulled him steady.
His heart hammered wildly.
Looking back, the ox-cart was already rocking away into the distance, the old man's silhouette slightly distorted in the rising heat, quickly melting into the interlaced light and shadow at the far end of the road.
Erika panted and turned back.
Ahead was no longer a distant outline, but a solid, towering outer wall standing before him.
The wall was built from rough, unevenly colored boulders and packed earth. Its surface was weather-beaten and mottled, stained with dark watermarks left by wind and rain, streaked with moss, and carved through by deep, crisscrossing scars and missing chunks.
Most striking were several clearly damaged sections that looked as if they had been struck by tremendous force. Though repaired afterward, the patches were made with mismatched materials and crude workmanship.
The repairs were hasty and jarring—like ugly scars crudely stitched shut, standing out painfully against the rest of the ancient wall.
A strange, indefinable feeling lingered in Erika's chest.
This wall carried both the heavy weight of long-endured historyand the unsettling sense of something barely held together, temporary, on the verge of collapse.
It stood there in silence, blocking whatever chaos lay within, leaving only a few dark, doorless gaps as passages through.
"Alright."
Cole's voice cut in. He released Erika's hand and brushed straw from his own tunic, his tone easygoing.
"Just follow the road."
As he spoke, he habitually reached out again to clap Erika on the shoulder.
This time, Erika didn't flinch.
He snapped his head up, glaring at Cole with eyes wide and unblinking.
Cole's hand froze mid-air, inches from Erika's shoulder. He raised an eyebrow, studying Erika's stare.
"Hah."
He withdrew his hand and shrugged.
"You're the boss then. Alright—Your Highness, the Boss?"
The tone was still teasing, but it seemed… different now.A concession, perhaps.Or maybe he simply found it even more amusing.
Erika ignored him, his face taut, and turned toward the nearest opening in the wall.
Cole didn't mind, ambling after him.
The two walked along the polished dirt path, worn smooth by countless footsteps, passing beneath the wall's towering shadow—cool, dim, and faintly musty.
There were no guards at the gap. Only wind, carrying dust and the denser, more complex smells of the town, flowed freely through.
Just a few steps beyond the wall, the sight ahead made Erika slow.
Not far inside, on a relatively open patch of hardened earth, stood two striking white figures.
They faced each other, slightly bowed, arms raised, their gazes fixed intently on the ground between them.
And around them gathered a cluster of "little ones."
The two white-robed figures seemed entirely indifferent to the children, their attention wholly focused on that narrow space between them.
Erika and Cole's approach had yet to draw their notice.
In the air—beyond the town's constant background noise—there remained only a faint yet deeply unsettling, continuous "scritching" sound, rising from that small patch of ground.