“Hey, what’s this? A secret rendezvous?”

  The rustling of thick bushes abruptly ceased, revealing not a wild boar or a bear, but a man—though, admittedly, he did bear some resembnce to a bear.

  Towering well over two meters, this rge man ughed heartily, his booming voice breaking the quiet. His muscur frame, reminiscent of a bodybuilder, made him appear even rger. His hair and beard were thick, coarse, and dark brown, unkempt and wild. He wore a simple, worn long-sleeve shirt and trousers, with a fur mantle slung diagonally across his broad shoulders. A sword hung at his waist, and an axe dangled from his right hand.

  He looked every bit the mountain man, a forest dweller familiar with sleeping outdoors—a formidable and reassuring presence.

  “Help us!” I called out pinly.

  “Got it!” he answered without hesitation, his readiness giving me confidence.

  The man, who called himself Gatis, expined he lived in a nearby town and patrolled the forest regurly as part of his work.

  “It’s common for amateurs to get lost around here, but today, I found something unusual,” Gatis remarked.

  With that, he slung the colpsed man effortlessly over one shoulder and cradled me in his other arm like a child. Without any apparent strain, he strode forward at a pace five times faster than mine, ughing loudly as he chatted casually—about catching deer yesterday and how his own kids often got lost when they were young.

  Before I could fully process his boldness, we had reached the town, and my life of colpse and despair abruptly came to an end.

  “You! Again, handling the injured so roughly! Not everyone’s as tough as you!”

  “Sorry about that,” he replied.

  “The clinic’s beds have been full since yesterday. I’m going to fetch the doctor—take him to Ludis’s pce! Put sheets on the bed!”

  “Right.”

  My consciousness finally gave out somewhere in the midst of this, and when I awoke, I found myself and the other man being cared for inside a wooden house.

  Gatis was the burly man, and the woman who had scolded him with fierce resolve upon arrival was his wife, Mesil. They became our benefactors, looking after us diligently.

  They had assumed the two of us had colpsed together, primarily because the other man, who had also lost consciousness, had gripped my arm so firmly that he refused to let go. Even in deep sleep, without clutching tightly, he held on—an unyielding presence that forced me to go without bathing for two more days. Despite my desperate efforts to signal that I didn’t even know his name, the man—Fical—seemed fond of me, and when he awoke, their concern turned to amusement, suspecting we might have been quarrelling.

  Through various conversations, it became clear they misunderstood my background. They thought I was from a distant vilge where I had been oppressed and abandoned in the forest. They also assumed the man was suffering from amnesia after being attacked by bandits. Broadly speaking, their assumptions weren’t entirely wrong. Fical was taciturn and didn’t argue, seemingly accepting their treatment without protest.

  From there, tensions arose when I was shown the filthy bathhouse and when Fical began following me like a fledgling bird, attracting curious and warm gazes from the townsfolk. Because Gatis had brought us to an abandoned house, we ended up settling in this town for the time being.

  ...

  This world had what was known as an adventurer’s guild. Encountering screaming pnts made this unsurprising.

  Gatis was the head of the local guild, and through his connection, I was allowed to assist there. Fical, fully recovered, began working as an adventurer. Living in this unfamiliar world—without modern technology—was far from easy. But with Fical, who was like a quiet rge dog by my side, our lives gradually found some stability.

  Then, Fical disappeared.

  ...

  The day after we had finished early preparations for our first winter, Fical, unusually, spoke to me after breakfast cleanup.

  “I’m going out for a bit.”

  “Hm? Um… is it a job far away?”

  He nodded once.

  Silence followed, so I asked again, accustomed to his brief answers.

  “Is it an overnight trip? Does Gatis know about it?”

  Another nod. Fical usually communicated entirely with these subtle nods. Since Gatis was aware, I assumed it wasn’t a dangerous mission and saw him off.

  ...

  Autumn passed into winter, and winter faded away. Fical did not return.

  ...

  “I was freaking out, you know! Worrying like crazy!”

  I pinched and stretched his cheeks freely. Fical lowered his voice, apologizing quietly.

  Truth be told, I hadn’t worried to that extreme. Two days after he left, I asked Gatis about him. He confirmed the mission was completed properly. Later investigations revealed Fical had taken on additional contracts in the region he traveled to. After several such updates, Gatis said, “Men have their seasons for adventure,” and Mesil smacked him on the back of the head. That’s when I finally managed to come to terms with it.

  We hadn’t been traveling companions by choice. It wasn’t strange that our paths would diverge. I swallowed the bittersweet feeling, checked in occasionally with Gatis to confirm Fical was alive and working, and focused daily on chores and work.

  The thought that Fical might never come back saddened me, but I also resented that he hadn’t told me properly. Seeing him in person dissolved both feelings instantly. His joyful expression was like a soothing balm.

  ...

  Lifted to eye level by tall Fical, the morning sun illuminated his silver hair, making it shimmer with iridescent hues. His dark blue eyes, mostly expressionless, softened as they fixed on me. When I smiled, he hugged me tightly once more.

  “...I said it’s painful.”

  A spring day was just beginning.