The little girl looked at Si Hon with a baffled little frown.
"What?"
"Nothing…"
He shook it off and ducked back into the tent, where the warmth inside felt wrong now, too quiet and too calm, like the mountain itself was holding its breath around him.
He glanced once at the girl waiting outside, then down at the katana resting near the bedding. "I said I wouldn't touch you," he muttered at it, "and here I am reaching for it anyway."
The moment his fingers wrapped around the hilt, his arm dipped, but just heavy enough to tense his shoulder on instinct.
"Oh." He adjusted his grip and the weight settled, different this time, less hostile. "Wow," he breathed. "You're cooperating, aren't you heavy?"
The blade didn't answer, only throbbed once, faint and restrained, like a heart deliberately choosing not to beat too fast.
He tried sliding it into his jacket and the whole thing sagged immediately under the weight. "Nevermind."
He sighed, hoisted the katana properly instead, and tucked it against his right arm like he actually owned it, then stepped back outside.
The girl was waiting, hands clasped together, looking up the moment he emerged— and Si Hon stopped cold.
He hadn't noticed it before, but her eyes weren't mirrored anymore, no distant reflection of something else watching through them.
Just eyes.
Clear blue pupils, soft, almost too vivid against her white hair and pale skin.
"Huh," he murmured.
She blinked at him, then smiled, a genuinely warn cute smile.
She walked over and reached for his hand, fingers curling around his without a shred of hesitation, warm and light. "Let's go, Papa."
His grip tightened on instinct. "You're really not letting that go, huh."
She tilted her head, honestly confused and just nodded like a chicken.
He glanced east, toward the faint dip in the land where a frozen stream slept somewhere beneath the snow, then back down at her.
"Alright," he said quietly. "Stay close. And if anything moves—"
"I will hide behind you," she said immediately, already decided.
"Heh… good. Because I'm very breakable."
She squeezed his hand, and they took their first step together, the katana shifting slightly against his arm, responding but not resisting.
On the second step, the red circle around the tower flickered and vanished behind them. "Damn… this always surprises me."
Behind them the tower stood silent and enormous, pretending it wasn't watching him walk away with something it had just noticed.
The girl tightened her grip on his hand a little. "Are we in trouble?" she asked.
He looked down at her— clear blue eyes, focused on him. "…Always," he said honestly, then added, "But not the immediate screaming kind. Yet."
She nodded, accepting that far too easily, and stayed close.
***
They hadn't gone more than a hundred meters east before the girl spoke up again, voice muffled slightly against his shoulder where she'd tucked herself in despite walking now instead of being carried.
"Papa."
"hm."
"What is a field trip."
Si Hon blinked, adjusting the katana strapped awkwardly across his back. "It's, uh— when you go somewhere new. Usually with a group. Usually somewhere safer than a frozen death mountain, but hey, we adapt."
She considered this seriously, the way she seemed to consider everything now that she actually had opinions to form. "Then this is a bad field trip."
"Yeah," Si Hon agreed immediately. "Terrible. Zero stars. Would not recommend."
"But I am still happy," she added, and the honesty in it caught him slightly off guard, enough that he nearly missed a root buried under the snow.
"..Yeah, well," he muttered, steadying himself, "don't get used to being happy. This place have monsters."
…
…
…
The snow thinned the farther they went, not warmer though, and dead trees began appearing— not living, not fully dead either, gray trunks twisted upward like a frozen veins, branches bare and brittle clawing at the sky.
Si Hon stopped beside one.
"Yep," he said quietly. "These look… wow."
He shifted the katana against his arm, crouched down, and gathered the broad, stiff leaves scattered at the base, leathery, pale and edged with frost.
The girl knelt beside him, watching closely. "You're making another bowl," she observed.
"Look at you," Si Hon replied, folding the leaves with practiced motions. "Remember, you rewound time, so the bowl I made last time doesn't exist anymore…" paused. "oh, yea we're the only one that rewounded… so I guess it still exists somewhere."
The leaves bent, cracked slightly, held their shape, and soon he had a shallow bowl again— rough, ugly, but functional.
He stood, brushed snow off his knees, and glanced toward the trees, then the slope beyond.
"Alright," he murmured. "Water's doable. Firewood's… not yet… now foo—"
He paused, and a smirk slowly formed, shoulders relaxing into something familiar.
"Now," he said aloud, voice light and thoughtful, "I wonder how I'm supposed to get food out here."
The girl looked up at him. "Are you asking me?"
"Nah, but shh."
He tilted his head toward the empty air, expression innocent to the point of looking like a criminal caught mid-plan.
"I'm just… thinking out loud." he continued. "You know. If only my glorious, kind, possibly very handsome or very beautiful System happened to overhear."
Silence.
Wind brushed loose snow off the dead branches overhead.
The girl blinked. "Papa," she whispered. "I think you're doing the voice."
"Shh," Si Hon said softly. "Shush, understand."
She nodded obediently.
A second passed, and then the System flickered into existence, not bright or bold, just a thin, restrained presence, like it was trying very hard not to be seen helping.
「Stop that.」
His grin widened. "Stop what?"
「Talking like you're petting me.」
"Is it working?" A longer pause this time.
「You already know the answer.」
(Yea, tsundere.) "Sometimes you're so cute."
「Stop!」
"Sure."
The girl leaned in to read the text, eyes curious. "It talks a lot."
Si Hon snorted. "You should hear it when it's stressed."
The System ignored that entirely.
「Food sources detected.
Probability of hostile encounter: moderate.
Probability of you doing something stupid: high.」
"Hey."
「East-northeast. Under the snowline. Burrowing fauna. Edible if cooked properly.」
Si Hon raised a brow. "I need to hunt?! And edible if cooked properly?"
「If it stops moving and doesn't poison you.」
"Wow. Incredible. Amazing."
The System hesitated, then added, quieter.
「I will warn you before anything large reaches striking distance.」
The words just sat there.
Si Hon's expression softened for half a second before he masked it fast. "Yeah," he said. "That'll do."
The girl squeezed his hand again. "Are we hunting?" she asked.
"More like foraging," he replied. "I'm bad at chasing things that bite back."
She nodded seriously. "I can watch, and hide. Like I said."
He smiled faintly. "Good plan." He adjusted his grip on the katana, tested its weight once more— still heavy, still there— and they moved forward together, snow crunching soft under their steps, dead trees whispering overhead.
***
They walked for hours to the point where your legs slowly forget what warmth ever felt like.
The dead trees thinned out, the slope dipped, and the snow grew uneven, disturbed in long, shallow ripples like something had been breathing underneath it the whole time.
Si Hon stopped, hand tightening around the katana.
"Wait," he murmured, and the girl froze instantly, stepping behind him without needing to be told twice.
The snow ahead twitched. Once, then again. Something pushed up from beneath the surface, not bursting out dramatically, just emerging slowly, the way a body rises out of sleep too early in the morning.
It was long, too long, pale and hairless, skin translucent enough to show dark veins pulsing underneath, no fur, no scales, just soft sagging flesh like it had never quite decided what it wanted to become.
Ots head lifted, too small for its body, mouth hanging slightly open to reveal uneven, human-like teeth, too flat to be fangs, too many to be right.
Its eyes were milky and unfocused, blinking independently like they weren't wired to the same brain.
「New species discovered: Mole-Rat.」
"That doesn't look like a mole rat…"
It made a sound, a wet whine.
"Ugh," Si Hon muttered, shoulders stiff. "You're… creepy."
The creature tilted its head, then smiled— reflexive, learned, like something that had figured out smiling made prey hesitate.
It wiggled in place, half-buried, half-exposed, like it hadn't decided whether to flee or stay and play.
The girl peeked around his side. "It looks sad," she whispered.
"It looks like it crawled out of shit and turned itself into shit and ate shit and turned into shit again, then somehow became that nightmare," Si Hon replied flatly.
He raised the katana.
The blade hummed faintly, responding to intent.
"Alright," he said. "It's still food."
He lunged, snow exploding under his boots as he brought the blade down— and the creature sank straight into the ground, instantly, just gone like it had never been there at all.
The katana struck nothing but powder, and Si Hon stumbled forward, nearly faceplanting. "What?"
The snow behind him bulged.
He spun around and the creature popped back up a few steps away, half-emerged, head cocked, mouth still hanging open in that same unsettling smile.
It let out another wet whine, then wiggled— mockingly.
"Oh, wow, this guy is pissing me off." He jumped again.
Missed.
Jumped again, missed again, again and again, but every single time the creature sank at the exact last moment, popping up somewhere new like it was playing a game it physically couldn't lose.
The girl clutched his jacket. "Papa?"
"I know," he muttered, breath fogging hard now. "I know. It's doing it on purpose."
The creature stopped moving entirely, just sat there, waiting, and Si Hon laughed under his breath and swung as hard as he could— and it sank at the last possible second, so close the blade shaved snow clean off its back without ever touching flesh.
It didn't even flinch.
It didn't need to.
It had made its point.
;You can't hit me.;
Si Hon froze, chest heaving, and then his eyes widened. "Wait." He straightened up. "I have that thing."
The girl blinked. "Thing?"
"That skill," he said. "The… all-direction whatever something."
Silence.
Then the System appeared.
「You are referring to: All-Directional Movement (Incomplete).」
Si Hon grinned. "Yeah, that one."
「You have never used it correctly. Or maybe you have never used it once.」
"Thanks."
The creature watched them, eyes unfocused, mouth slack, half-buried like it was patiently waiting for the punchline.
「You are attempting linear movement.」
「This creature is adapted to predict that.」
Si Hon swallowed. "Then what do I do?!"
A pause.
「Stop thinking of movement as running.」
(The fuck? What's with this explanation.) He thought.
「Think of it as falling in a direction that doesn't exist.」
Si Hon stared at the text. "You're doing that on purpose…."
「Yes.」
He exhaled sharp and rolled his shoulders. "Alright. One more time."
The creature tilted its head again, still smiling.
Si Hon stepped forward— closed his eyes for half a second, and let go… if everything.
Of balance.
Of direction.
Of the ground beneath his feet entirely.
Something twisted.
The world lurched sideways, his stomach dropping like he'd stepped off a cliff that had never technically existed, and suddenly he was there— not where he'd been standing, not where he'd aimed, but hovering above the creature, angled wrong, falling sideways through the air like gravity had blinked and missed a frame.
The creature's eyes widened, for the first time, its body trying to sink— [too late.]
Si Hon swung.
The katana connected, biting deep.
The creature shrieked, panicked, thrashing half in and half out of the snow while dark fluid sprayed across the white ground.
It convulsed once, then went still.
Silence returned to the clearing.
Si Hon landed hard, knees buckling, catching himself with one hand in the snow. "Holy shit!?"
The girl ran over immediately, eyes bright. "You hit it! And you teleported!!! Wow!!!"
He stared down at the corpse, small and pathetic now that it wasn't moving.
"Pathetic," he muttered under his breath. "Just a burrower that thought it was clever."
"First," he breathed. "Try."
The System flickered one last time. 「Skill feedback recorded.」
「You survived.」
Then— 「What the fuck… Si Hon.」
(?)
「That's… not how you are supposed to use All-Directional Movement, it's supposed to be like… when you swung straight it's supposed to be straight, but when you use All-Directional Movement you can change your swing direction…!!!」
Si Hon laughed weakly. "Yehey! I'm a genius."
「Si Hon… it's gonna take a toll on your body.」
"Wait wha—"
His vision blurred all at once, and he fell face-first toward the snowy ground.
"Papa!" the little girl screamed, lunging for him, and everything went black.
The girl didn't scream again after that first time.
She dropped to her knees beside him instead, small hands pressing against his shoulder, shaking him once, twice, voice cracking thin in the cold air.
"Papa. Papa, wake up. Papa, please (｡•́︿•̀｡)."
Nothing.
His chest still rose and fell, slow but steady, and that was the only thing keeping her from completely unraveling— the fact that he was breathing, even if he wasn't answering.
She looked up sharply at the empty air where the System usually spoke from. "You. Fix him."
Silence answered her first, just wind sliding low across the disturbed snow, and then, hesitant, the window flickered back to life.
「He is not dying. Overexertion. The skill borrowed more than his body could spare and now it's collecting.」
"Collecting?"
「Recovery time.」
She stared at the text like she could will more information out of it through sheer focus. "How long."
A pause, longer than she liked.
「Unknown. Depends on him.」
She looked back down at Si Hon's slack face, snow already starting to gather faint and pale against his eyelashes, and carefully, deliberately, she pulled off the oversized shirt he'd given her that morning and draped it over his chest instead, tucking the sleeves in around his shoulders like that alone might hold the cold back.
Then she sat, cross-legged, right beside him in the snow, one small hand resting flat against his chest to feel the rise and fall for herself, and settled in to wait— small, stubborn, unmoving, exactly the way he'd been for her the night before.