Haruto woke to the smell of soup.
For one brief, impossible moment—
he thought he was home.
A small apartment.
A warm kitchen.
Sakura muttering at a recipe she was pretending to understand.
The sound of a spoon hitting a pot.
The promise of another ordinary day.
Then he opened his eyes.
Wooden ceiling.
Unknown room.
Unknown world.
The illusion shattered.
Silently.
Haruto stared upward for several seconds before sitting up.
"...right."
The inn room greeted him with complete indifference.
Arthur's cloak hung from a nearby chair.
His boots rested beside the bed.
A beam of morning sunlight slipped through the curtains.
Nothing unusual.
Nothing familiar.
Just reality.
A knock sounded at the door.
Three quick taps.
Before Haruto could answer—
the door opened.
Lyra stepped inside carrying a bowl.
"Good. You're awake."
Haruto blinked.
"...were you waiting outside?"
"No."
A pause.
"Maybe."
The woman placed the bowl on the table.
Steam rose from the surface.
Soup.
Actual soup.
Haruto immediately remembered last night's dream.
Or memory.
Or whatever it had been.
His expression must have changed.
Because Lyra tilted her head.
"What?"
"...nothing."
She clearly didn't believe him.
Fortunately, she didn't push.
Instead, she sat across from him.
Waiting.
Watching.
Suspiciously.
Haruto narrowed his eyes.
"What?"
Lyra pointed at the bowl.
"Eat."
"That's not suspicious at all."
"It isn't."
"It really is."
The woman rolled her eyes.
"You're impossible."
"That's what Belial says."
"Belial is correct."
Haruto accepted this defeat.
The soup was good.
Not incredible.
Not life-changing.
Just good.
Which somehow made it better.
Ordinary things carried a different weight these days.
A warm meal.
A roof.
A conversation.
Things he had once taken for granted.
Now they felt precious.
Dangerously precious.
Because he knew how easily they could disappear.
The thought lingered long after breakfast ended.
Eventually, Lyra stood.
"Come on."
Haruto looked up.
"Where?"
"The city."
Helpful.
"Why?"
The woman stared.
Then slowly counted on her fingers.
"You need work."
Fair.
"You need money."
Also fair.
"You need clothes that don't make you look like a wandering corpse."
That felt unnecessary.
"But accurate," Belial added.
Nobody had invited the goat.
It had arrived anyway.
Like a natural disaster.
Haruto sighed.
The city streets were already crowded.
Morning sunlight spilled across stone roads.
Merchants opened shops.
Workers carried supplies.
Children ran through narrow alleys.
Life moved everywhere.
Fast.
Purposeful.
Messy.
Haruto found himself looking around constantly.
Every building felt interesting.
Every conversation felt foreign.
Every street contained something new.
The world was alive.
And unlike the desert—
it wasn't trying to kill him every five minutes.
Mostly.
They passed a market square.
Dozens of stalls filled the area.
Food.
Clothing.
Books.
Jewelry.
Tools.
Items from places Haruto had never heard of.
One stall immediately caught his attention.
Not because of what it sold.
Because of who stood there.
An old man.
Thin.
Wrinkled.
Surrounded by books.
Hundreds of books.
The sight alone felt strange.
Most people ignored the stall completely.
The old man didn't seem bothered.
He simply sat there reading.
Lyra continued walking.
Haruto slowed.
Then stopped.
Something felt...
familiar.
Not the man.
The stall.
The books.
The feeling.
Like a distant memory scratching at the back of his mind.
The old man glanced up.
Their eyes met.
For a brief moment—
the old man's expression changed.
Just slightly.
Recognition.
Then gone.
Haruto frowned.
The old man returned to his book.
As if nothing had happened.
"...Lyra."
The woman turned.
"What?"
Haruto pointed.
"The book stall."
"What about it?"
"Who's that?"
Lyra followed his gaze.
Then shrugged.
"Nobody important."
Haruto didn't answer.
Because the old man had looked directly at Arthur's cloak.
Not him.
The cloak.
And for the briefest moment—
the old man had gone pale.
The feeling settled heavily in Haruto's chest.
Not fear.
Not danger.
A clue.
The first real clue since entering Ardent.
The old man turned another page.
Deliberately ignoring him.
Which only made Haruto more suspicious.
Belial noticed too.
The goat's ears twitched.
"...oh."
Haruto glanced down.
"What?"
Belial looked at the stall.
Then looked away.
Immediately.
"...nothing."
That was the least convincing "nothing" Haruto had ever heard.
And suddenly—
the ordinary morning didn't feel quite so ordinary anymore.