Late at night, Margarita opened her eyes under the covers.
...She couldn't sleep.
She stared at the ceiling, her mind replaying the game’s opening cinematic.
Wait.
“The Demon Race began activity around the village six months before the attack, only waiting for the right moment for a certain purpose.”
Previously, she had only focused on the fact that she had a year and a half left.
In the game, the official reason for the Demon Race trampling Percy Village was “a routine raid on a border village.” But would a routine raid require half a year of scouting? Why would they stay active in the area without making a move? If they were after Joshua, hoping to kill the future hero, wouldn't it be easier to act before he grew stronger? Why wait six months?
Margarita sat up, her white hair draped over her shoulders, her blue eyes gleaming in the moonlight.
Are they looking for something?
Or could they be toying with their prey?
“Haha! We of the Demon Race are mighty! We shall crush that hero beneath our feet!” An image suddenly popped into her head.
Villains who say things like that are usually the ones getting crushed by the protagonist, right? And he actually did die.
No, no, no... It’s more plausible that something is buried around Percy Village.
Margarita collapsed back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling, her mind racing. What did Percy Village have? A few meager fields, a patch of woods, a stream, and an old church. She had scoured the magic books in the basement; they were all basic techniques, nothing worth the Demon Race's interest.
Unless that something hadn't been discovered yet.
“Something hidden,” she murmured. “What the demons are waiting for is something hidden in some corner around the village that hasn't been found yet...”
The next morning, Margarita appeared at the edge of the training grounds with dark circles under her eyes, her white hair braided and hanging over her shoulder. She sat on an old oak branch, swinging her legs as she counted Joshua’s sword swings while reviewing her plan.
The iron sword struck the wooden post, leaving a notch.
Joshua withdrew his sword, sweat dripping from his forehead. He looked up at the girl in the tree, his azure eyes filled with exhaustion and anticipation. He knew Margarita would jump down and hand him a waterskin at this time every day.
“Impressive again today.” Margarita landed lightly from the tree and handed him the waterskin, raising her hand to wipe his face with her sleeve. “But your training volume seems a bit lower than yesterday. Are you slacking off?”
Joshua choked slightly. “...The captain had me practice footwork more today. He said no matter how many sword techniques I learn, it’s useless if my lower body isn't stable.”
Margarita’s eyes lit up. “That’s great! If you master your footwork, you'll get hurt less in fights later.”
Footwork is good! If the Sword Saint's positioning is mastered, he can avoid demons and accompany me into the woods to find things. Two birds with one stone.
She waited for Joshua to finish drinking, then spoke as if casually, “By the way, Joshua, are you free this afternoon?”
“This afternoon? The captain told me to take a half-day rest.”
“Perfect!” She clasped her hands together and beamed. “I found a lot of wild berries growing in the bushes on the back hill and wanted to pick some to make jam, but I’m a bit scared to go that far alone... Can you come with me?”
That was a lie.
Her true destination was outside the village, near the source of the stream.
Lord Sword Saint, take a nice stroll around this little village with your childhood friend... Hehehe...
Joshua’s ears turned red, and he lowered his head to sheath his sword. “...Yeah, I’ll go with you.”
The afternoon sun was bright. Joshua had changed into a thin cloth shirt and followed behind her, his sword on his back. Margarita walked ahead with a basket on her arm, the tips of her white hair swaying at her waist. Occasionally, she would bend over to push aside weeds, saying, “Wow, this cluster of berries is huge,” while her eyes scanned the ground and the cracks in the rock walls.
She found nothing. Aside from wild berries and common small monsters, there was nothing in that area.
On the way back, Margarita gave half the wild berries to Joshua, her smile flawless. “Good harvest today. I’ll bring you some berry jam for your bread tomorrow morning.”
Joshua looked at the fruit in his hands, feeling a bit sheepish. “...I’ll help you pick more next time.”
Margarita’s smile stiffened for a fraction of a second.
Next time... Of course there would be a next time. There would be many, many next times.
From then on, Margarita’s “wild berry picking” excuse was triggered two or three times a week. By the eastern stream, the old woods to the north, and around the abandoned mill to the west. Every time was a different direction, each with a different reason: “I heard there are sweet wild grapes over there,” “Uncle Renard said there are herbs over there,” “The meadow behind the church has many flowers I want to see.”
Joshua never refused. He likely thought these were normal invitations from his childhood friend. Every time training ended, he would follow her out of the village, occasionally pulling down high branches or using his sword to clear away thorns. His footwork became steadier and steadier; he almost never tripped over roots on the mountain paths anymore. Margarita watched with secret delight; the Sword Saint's foundation was being polished into shape by the combined efforts of Renard and herself.
But where was the treasure? Where was it?
A month passed. She discovered beast dens, wild beehives, a forgotten hunter’s shack, and a rock shaped like a human face—everything except the treasure.
The only result was Joshua being so spooked by Margarita’s little joke that “someone is buried under that face-shaped rock” that he couldn't sleep for two days.
How amusing.
“Where are you exactly...” She lay on the floor, mumbling at a topographic map. The map was covered in the routes she had taken: red X’s meant “searched,” blue circles meant “needs rechecking,” and green dots meant “ordinary locations.” The entire map was a colorful mess.
She bit the end of her pen and rolled over, staring blankly at the ceiling. The thing the Demon Race was looking for... if it truly existed, was truly hidden in the village, and truly hadn't been found. Was her direction correct? Was her method? What if the demons had scouting tools?
“Hah.” Margarita threw the pen aside and laughed. “I’ve spent a month running all over the mountains with the future Sword Saint, and I don’t even know what I’m looking for. Margarita, you’re a real piece of work.”
The next day, she appeared at the training grounds as usual, jumped down from the tree as usual to hand over the water and wipe his sweat, and said in a voice so gentle it was almost cloying, “Good work training today.”
Then she paused and changed the subject. “Joshua, did you ever find anything... really strange in the village when you were a kid? Like a door that wouldn't open, an exceptionally deep hole, or...” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “Have you ever heard of any ‘village secrets’ or something?”
Joshua tilted his head and thought for a long time before eventually shaking his head blankly. “...No. What are you looking for, Margarita?”
“...Nothing, nothing. Just asking.” She waved her hand with a smile, wailing internally.
One day in the third month, she found a rusted iron chain in a pile of rocks. She nearly cried out in excitement, only to clear away the stones and see that the chain was attached to the leg bone of a dead deer, likely left by a hunter years ago.
“...Fine.” She threw the chain back and brushed the dirt off her hands, turning to smile at Joshua. “Nothing here. Let’s look somewhere else.”
Joshua followed her silently. After running to so many places with Margarita during this time, he was absolutely certain his childhood friend was looking for something. But since she didn't say, he didn't ask. It was just that every time she turned to smile at him, he always caught a fleeting look in those blue eyes that didn't quite match her gentle expression.
However, he didn't know how to ask. So he simply continued following her.
As the fourth month neared its end, Margarita sat on her windowsill. The setting sun painted the roofs of Percy Village the color of limes. She had already scoured every suspicious spot within a forty-five-minute walk of the village. Aside from maintaining traps and keeping Joshua's training on schedule, all her remaining time had been poured into this task.
And she had found nothing.
“...Maybe the Demon Race isn't looking for anything at all. Maybe I’m just overthinking it.” She rested her chin on her knees, her white hair falling from her shoulders and swaying in the evening breeze. “Maybe they just want to wait for Joshua to grow a couple more years, so it's more satisfying to kill him when he's grown?”
She felt that logic was flimsy herself, but since she couldn't find it, she couldn't find it. She couldn't exactly turn the entire village upside down.
Margarita sighed and was about to hop down from the windowsill when her peripheral vision caught the silhouette of the woods on the village's outskirts. The setting sun cast long, slanted shadows. The topographic map she had looked at countless times automatically surfaced in her mind, suddenly freezing on a spot she had never actually visited.
The upstream part of the eastern stream. A rock wall covered in old vines. She had marked it with a question mark on her map. She had reached that place on the first day, but the terrain was too steep. She had always thought it impossible for anything to be hidden there, so she had never taken Joshua.
Since I’m already here, I’ll just go on a whim.
She jumped down from the window, ran past her mother who was gathering laundry in the yard, and shouted, “Mom, I’m going out for a bit, I'll be back later!” before rushing out of the house. Her white hair flew in the twilight, and her skirt billowed in the night wind. She ran through the village road, bypassed the old oak tree, and burst straight into Renard's yard.
Joshua was sitting on the stone steps, wiping his sword.
“Joshua! Come with me somewhere!” she said breathlessly, not even having time to adjust her smile properly. “There’s a rock wall near where we first picked berries that I haven't checked yet. It’s almost dark... can you come with me?”
Joshua was startled by the way she rushed in, nearly dropping his sword. But he didn't ask anything; he stood up and slung his sword over his back. “Okay.”
Renard poked his head out from the house, looking at the sky and then at the two youngsters. “It’s almost dark. Where are you going?”
“To pick... glowing mushrooms!” Margarita made up an excuse on the spot and grabbed Joshua’s wrist, running out. Renard shouted, “Be careful!” behind them, but the two had already left the yard.
The sound of the stream in the twilight was louder than during the day, a final layer of golden light floating on the water. Margarita walked ahead. Driven by urgency, her pace was much faster than usual. Joshua followed closely. Several times he reached out to help her over rocks, but she waved him off.
Pushing aside the last of the obstructing bushes, Margarita looked up at the rock wall covered in old vines. The vines were layered thick, some as thick as an adult’s arm. They swathed the entire stone surface, appearing like nothing more than an ordinary steep slope.
But as Margarita stared at the vines for a long time, she suddenly noticed the distribution of the central vines was wrong. The vines in that area were a bit too tidy, as if they had been deliberately piled there.
Her heart began to race.
“Joshua...” Her voice trembled slightly. “Help me clear those vines away.”
Joshua drew his sword and stepped forward, using the flat of the blade to pry apart the thick, old vines. The sturdy vines made a dull thud as they were cut away. As the vines continued to peel back, a regular silhouette gradually appeared on the stone wall.
A finely crafted stone door.
Margarita held her breath.
Joshua looked back at her, his blue eyes filled with shock and a hint of wariness. “...A door?”
“Open it,” Margarita blurted out, then bit her lip and added in a gentle, expectant tone, “...I want to see what’s inside.”
Joshua was silent for a moment, then shifted his sword to his left hand and pressed his shoulder against the stone door, pushing hard. The stone hinges groaned, and air rushed out from the gap, carrying the scent of rust and old wood.
Behind the door was a cramped stone chamber, its floor covered in dust. Margarita followed him inside. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dimness, and then she saw it.
In the center of the stone floor sat a chest. Its iron corners had rusted a deep red, but the chest itself was made of some dark wood.
She knelt down and brushed her finger over the lid, picking up a layer of dust. There was no lock; the latch was loose.
Margarita took a deep breath and lifted the lid.
Inside was a layer of withered black moss, and in the center of the moss lay two items. But her eyes were instantly drawn to the one on the left.
A pale pink crystal gem, about the size of a pigeon's egg. Its surface was nearly transparent, and inside were fine, stardust-like particles flowing slowly. Even without a light source, it glowed faintly, as if a small piece of the stars had been sealed within the crystal.
Margarita held her breath.
A Star-Spun Stone. She had seen it in the game. The Star-Spun Stone, which the forums had argued about for countless days and nights without ever getting an official explanation, was now lying in this worn-out wooden chest.
She lightly touched the pale pink crystal with her fingertip. It slid off the moss and rolled into her palm. It was warm. Though it was a stone, it felt warm to the touch and possessed a faint pulse, as if something inside was breathing.
She brought it closer to look. The stardust-like specks of light inside shifted randomly, but when she stared at them, they seemed to sense something. They suddenly gathered toward the direction of her palm for a moment before slowly dispersing again.
Margarita’s fingers trembled slightly.
In the game, the final consensus on this stone was that it was “cut content.” No one knew its true purpose. But now it was in her palm—warm and real.
There was also a short gun in the chest. It was silver-white with dark red leather cord wrapped around the grip, and the barrel was engraved with patterns. She picked it up; it was light, cold, and smooth, a complete contrast to the warm pink crystal in her palm. It looked like a flare gun or a ritual tool. There was a shallow groove on the inside of the barrel, sized perfectly to fit that crystal.
...Thanks for the round, too.
“What is this?” Joshua’s voice came from behind her, filled with pure confusion.
Margarita didn't answer immediately. She simply gripped the pink crystal in her palm.
Is this what the Demon Race spent six months looking for? This glowing pink stone? Or this silver gun?
She looked down at the pale pink crystal in her palm. The stardust inside gathered toward her palm as if in response to her.
It’s you, isn’t it?
She cradled the pink crystal along with the silver gun against her chest and turned to give Joshua a smile. The smile was as gentle as ever, but the light in her eyes was almost too bright. “I don't know, but it’s so pretty. Joshua, can I keep this?”
Joshua actually wanted to ask if this was what she had been looking for, but seeing the expression on Margarita’s face as she tried so hard to maintain a calm smile, he eventually just nodded. “...Yeah, you keep it. But that thing looks like a weapon, so be careful.”
“Don't worry.” Margarita carefully placed them back in the chest, then stood up, holding the chest in her arms.
Outside the stone chamber, the sky had mostly darkened. The sound of the stream was exceptionally clear in the twilight. Joshua reached out to steady her, and the two walked out of the stone door one after the other.
The night wind blew against them. Margarita clutched the chest tightly, her white hair whipping in the breeze. She stole a glance at the profile of the boy beside her. Those blue eyes, identical to hers, were quietly watching the path ahead without any further questions.
“Joshua.”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for coming with me,” she said with a smile.
My future Lord Sword Saint.
Joshua’s ears turned red again, and he looked away. “...It's nothing to thank me for.”
Margarita looked down at the chest in her arms. She had spent four months leading the future Sword Saint through almost every inch of land around the village, finally securing this item before the Demon Race could.
As for how to actually use it, that wasn't a problem she needed to solve today. Today, she just wanted to walk back to the village, hide the chest, and continue being that gentle and cute childhood friend on the training grounds tomorrow.
Rate on N.U.
