Chapter 65
“Nice to meet you!”
Reflected in those honey-golden eyes was the image of a very young boy. Short brown hair, pitch-black pupils, and freckles covering both cheeks.
An ordinary, unremarkable boy.
Sophia stepped aside and allowed Peyton to enter the house.
As he happily bounced his shoulders and walked in, Sophia called out after him, finally saying what she hadn’t earlier.
“Thank you… for healing my wound.”
“Huh? Oh, that? It’s nothing. That’s just what I do.”
“Really?”
“Of course. Just seeing people who aren’t in pain makes me happy.”
Peyton smiled with genuine joy, as if his words were the truest thing in the world—but then, his smile faded.
Curious, Sophia tilted her head. He scratched his cheek and spoke again.
“Um… earlier, were you in trouble because of me?”
“Earlier? Oh, you mean when all those people swarmed me?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, yeah. They came at me all at once. I nearly died.”
“…”
“And no one helped me, so it was quite the ordeal.”
The more she spoke, the more Peyton’s expression twisted into one of guilt, like he was about to cry.
“Sorry… I just wasn’t in a place to worry about that.”
He’d probably prioritized finding a place to stay. Sophia understood that. It made sense—he wouldn’t want to get kicked out of the village over a confrontation.
“But you know,” she continued, “what you said earlier was kind of amazing.”
“What do you mean?”
“That just seeing people who aren’t hurt makes you happy.”
Most people wouldn’t say that. Most would pick up a sword for their own goals or desires.
“That’s not what people are usually like.”
“Well… I’m not an ordinary person. And I’m not even the same kind of being as you.”
Turning around to face Sophia, Peyton beamed.
“My purpose is in saving people. My happiness lies in seeing others freed from suffering.”
“Purpose…”
“I was born to save people.”
They’d had a similar conversation once before. Whether past or present, nothing had changed—confirming that the boy before her truly was Peyton.
“I was born because other types of magic were needed too. No, wait—they said I should say ‘sorcerer,’ not magic…”
He mumbled things she didn’t understand, then naturally shifted the subject.
“By the way, what are those wooden planks stacked over there? They’ve got writing on them.”
“Oh, that…”
“Who wrote them? Was it you?”
Shaking her head, Sophia replied, guided by the voice echoing in her mind.
“No. My mom did.”
“Oh, I see! But… you live here alone, right? Is she staying somewhere else? Should I go say hi?”
“That’s not necessary. She’s already dead.”
“…Ah.”
Her voice was matter-of-fact. She snatched the piece of wood from his hand and tossed it back onto the pile.
She wasn’t talking about her real mother being dead—just someone else’s mother. And yet, her chest ached.
Even when Benny said his mother had died, it hadn’t hurt this much.
She shouldn’t feel sad.
“Uh, uhm… don’t cry! I… I don’t know what to do when humans cry.”
His flustered voice finally made Sophia realize there were tears falling from her eyes.
Why? Why…?
“…I can’t heal crying. That’s not something I can fix.”
Peyton tugged on his sleeve and clumsily wiped her tears with the rough fabric.
Through her blurred vision, she saw how visibly panicked he was by her crying.
She needed to stop. She could stop the tears if she really wanted to—she was good at that.
“…What do I do? No one ever taught me how to deal with this kind of situation.”
Her body, her mind—none of it listened to her. It felt like someone else had taken control.
“The only reason I exist in this world is gone.”
“How could I not be sad?”
“Cry. Just enough that Mom won’t worry too much.”
That voice, reverberating in her head and compelling her to keep crying, could only belong to one person. Leon. The remnants of him.
Following his message, she tried to hold back the tears that kept falling. Meanwhile, Peyton began scrambling.
“What did Rona do when someone cried again…? Oh, right! Warm soup!”
Peyton lit up at the idea, stopping his attempts to wipe her tears.
“Hold on! I’ll make you soup. It’s easy—just throw stuff in and season it!”
“….”
“Potatoes! Carrots! And…”
Despite the unsteady tone of his voice and the way he stumbled toward the kitchen, Sophia couldn’t bring herself to stop him.
By the time her sobs began to quiet, Peyton proudly returned with a bowl in his hands.
“Ta-da!”
Soup, he called it, but it was really just water with chunks of unpeeled potatoes and carrots.
“The color’s a bit off, but it should be okay, right?”
It really didn’t look okay. Had he even used fire?
“Rona made it like this too, I swear…”
Seeing her doubtful expression, Peyton muttered defensively.
“Huu…”
Sophia rubbed her still-wet eyes and let out a small sigh. Peyton tilted his head, and then—
“Pfft—haha…!”
“…Huh?”
“You’re such an idiot. This… this is soup?”
Her laughter—half scoff, half genuine—wiped away her tears in an instant.
It was ridiculous. Calling that soup was laughable. He didn’t know how to do anything, and yet he’d tried so hard to help her—that effort, that kindness, made her laugh.
“God, you’re hopeless. You’re such a fool, Grandpa.”
The distance she had felt between them suddenly vanished. Without thinking, she used the nickname she normally reserved for him. And this time, no internal voice stopped her.
“G-Grandpa?! I’ll have you know, I’m not that much older than you, appearance-wise! You don’t even know my age!”
“Just go with it. I use those kinds of nicknames for people I feel close to.”
Since she couldn’t explain why she called him that, she let the nickname stand and used the moment to let go of her sorrow.
“I’m still young! Maybe old among humans, but still!”
Listening to his indignant protests, Sophia suddenly wondered:
What time period is this?
Earlier, he’d said “Rona.” That was Lorei’s true name. In her own time, Peyton never referred to Lorei that way.
The surroundings, the archaic speech, everything felt like a much older era.
“Hey, Grandpa.”
“There it is again!”
“Did you run away from home?”
She asked, half-joking. But his shoulders flinched, and he averted his gaze.
“You totally did.”
“…H-How’d you know?! Can humans read minds these days?”
In this timeline—before the academy existed—he was supposed to stay confined to his estate. She couldn’t say that out loud, of course.
If he’d run away, then this must be a few hundred years in the past. On Mesios Island.
“Just a lucky guess, really. You were acting a little weird about finding a place to stay.”
“I didn’t do anything bad, okay?! That’s important! You have to remember that!”
“Sure.”
Being in the past. In Leon’s body. None of it made sense. What kind of magic was this?
She needed more information if she was going to figure out how to break the spell and return to her original time.
Before she lost consciousness, the rat had said this was a magician’s workshop. A magician who dealt in potions. Only one came to mind—a name she’d heard from Peyton.
“Hey, Grandpa.”
“You’re really going all in on that name, huh?”
“Do you know someone named Hamil Devit?”
“You just ignore everything I say, don’t you? Humans really change fast.”
Sophia shrugged as if to say, Cut the chatter. Just answer the question.
“Never heard of him. First time I’ve heard that name.”
So, that magician didn’t exist yet. There were barely enough sorcerers at this point to count on one hand.
Peyton wouldn’t know how to undo magic cast by someone who didn’t even exist yet.
“But why do you ask? Huh? Why?”
What should she do?
The fear that she might be stuck here forever made her bite her lower lip. And then, again, a voice echoed in her mind.
“You need to go out to buy more ingredients. Peyton wasted the last of them.”
“There’s nothing left to eat today.”
The words felt like commands. And though they grated on her, Sophia’s body obeyed.
“Why’d you ask that?”
“Never mind. I’m just going shopping.”
She stirred the “soup” with a spoon, then jabbed the potato and carrot pieces floating in the watery mess and scooped them up.
“Ah?”
Before Peyton could protest, she shoved the spoon into his mouth and walked the bowl back to the kitchen.
Behind her, she heard him sputter and cough.
“Ugh, it’s disgusting!”
“Exactly. No human should eat that. I’m going shopping to replace the ingredients you wasted. We still need dinner, after all.”
“I feel bad. I’ll go with—”
She smiled faintly, remembering the chaotic time they’d spent outside before the festival.
“No. I’m going alone.”
It had been too hectic back then.
“Keep the house safe. I’ll be back.”
“…Okay.”
Leaving the sulking Peyton behind, she stepped outside. And before she’d gone far, a glass bottle flew at her feet.
Crash!
“You’re still not dead, you monster bitch?”
The bottle shattered into pieces at her feet. Another bottle, just like it, was being tossed from hand to hand by one of the men approaching her, their faces twisted in sneers.
Ah. So that’s why she’d been filthy and injured when she woke up.
“Those damn bastards! Who were they trying to kill?! They always do this—cowards!”
Even if she didn’t want to understand, the voice in her head made sure she did.
