Chapter 2
[Good heavens, Lizzy!]
Garrett’s panicked screech echoed through the cabin.
But the man didn’t seem to notice the crows flapping around him.
Or rather, to be precise, he didn’t even realize whose neck he was gripping so tightly.
“Storm… hunt…”
The man gasped, spitting out fragmented words. His hand trembled slightly.
It was from the blood still pouring out of his unbandaged wounds.
Yet the force with which he gripped Lizzy’s neck was far beyond what any normal human should be capable of.
“How dare… you…”
[Let go! I said let go, you bastard!]
Garrett frantically pecked at the man’s back and sides with his black beak, screaming in desperation.
But the man paid him no attention at all.
He only tightened his grip on Lizzy’s neck.
His fury, resentment, and murderous intent all funneled into her slender throat.
[Lizzy!]
And just before his veiny hand was about to snap her neck—
[No! You lunatic, you’ll—!]
“Honestly.”
Before Garrett could finish his scream, a voice far too calm for someone being strangled cut through.
“It’s always the ones who almost drown that demand the whole rescue bag.”
No one had time to ask what she meant.
Because at that moment, Lizzy twisted the wrist that was gripping her neck.
“Ugh…!”
With an unexpected jolt of pain, the man’s hand sprang away from her throat.
Despite his injuries, he never imagined a woman barely reaching his chest could overpower him so easily.
‘Damn it… magic.’
The man bit down on his teeth, cursing his carelessness.
Just like always, the person before him must have been hired to kill him.
Anyone doing assassination work with such an innocent appearance had to be hiding something—he’d failed to spot it in time.
‘If that’s the case…’
Even with his consciousness fading from blood loss, the man instinctively assessed the situation.
He yanked the wrist that was holding him to pull her in closer and then swung his other fist.
If it landed, he might’ve escaped her grip.
SMACK!
But instead, an excruciating pain slammed into the back of his head—like being struck by a boulder.
“…!”
He couldn’t even scream as he collapsed.
Behind him, a small, pale hand emerged.
It was Lizzy’s.
“Well, that’s better. Quiet now.”
She muttered as she flipped the man back onto the table and began carefully pouring a coagulant over his still-bleeding wound.
“Grrgh…”
It felt like boiling water had been poured onto him.
The burning pain of the potion seared through every inch of his wound, mingling with the throbbing agony in his skull. The man gritted his teeth silently.
Meanwhile, Garrett stepped up, calmly finishing the thought he had earlier.
[…I said he might actually die.]
Garrett didn’t care one bit about Lizzy’s well-being.
He was just deeply concerned about the crazy bastard who dared strangle Lizzy Atkins.
Especially now.
[Would’ve been healthier just to leave him in the tomato field.]
Lizzy, checking the man’s pale complexion, answered defensively while setting down an empty cauldron.
“I calculated the hit.”
[Sure you did.]
“I swear, I only knocked him out.”
[Then maybe skip the boiling coagulant next time.]
“Oh, I didn’t think of that.”
[Didn’t think of it, or didn’t not think of it?]
“Hey, what kind of person do you think I am?”
[The kind who clubs half-dead men in the back of the head.]
“What?!”
[What?! I’m wrong? Huh?!]
The loud bickering between Lizzy and Garrett continued.
Neither of them realized the conclusion the man—drifting in and out of consciousness—had come to after hearing the human and the talking crow argue:
‘…Damn it, what a horrific dream.’
It wasn’t hard to guess how he arrived at that conclusion.
* * *
Outside, the sound of rain grew louder.
The thunder boomed intermittently, and oversized cabbages rolled across the yard with alarming crashes, all of it telling Lizzy that this damn storm wouldn’t end anytime soon.
Sitting near the hearth, Lizzy Atkins was flipping through a heavy book—about a hand’s width thick—written in ancient Druidic.
Its gold-lettered title shimmered in the firelight:
“Nature’s Greatest Gift: Mold – Illustrated by Fungal Species.”
“I swear I saw the word ‘Morgilen’ in here somewhere…”
Lizzy’s carrot-orange hair glowed oddly in the blue flames of the hearth as she muttered in frustration.
“…Ugh, could you have remembered the page number too, maybe?”
She grumbled, tugging at her hair. After skimming a thickness equal to a fingertip, she hadn’t even spotted the syllable “Mor.”
It was a strange feeling—wanting to blame someone but not being able to—because despite the talk of possession and reincarnation, the knowledge lived inside her head now.
—Atkins! Oh my god, are you okay? Do you remember how long you were out?!
—The crow… is talking…?
“The crow is talking…”
That had been the first thing Lizzy Atkins—or rather, Yoon Seol—said upon waking with a deep, soul-crushing exhaustion, as if she’d been drenched in water.
Not long after, she fainted again.
Images and voices she had never seen or heard before came flooding in—like hundreds of televisions and radios blaring at once.
And when she awoke again, she was Lizzy Atkins.
Filled with decades of knowledge and memories as a Druid.
[So, what are you going to do now?]
‘Still weird that a crow talks, though…’
[What’s with that look?]
“This setting is absolutely insane…”
[Wanna repeat that, punk?]
Ignoring the flustered crow, Lizzy shrugged.
“What do you mean, ‘what am I gonna do’?”
[About him, of course!]
The crow perched on the man’s chest, pushing aside his inky-black hair to reveal his face.
[We stopped the bleeding, sure—but we should dump him down the mountain before he dies.]
“Well, yeah. That’s the simplest option.”
Lizzy brushed her bangs back.
“But the problem is… he probably won’t last more than a few days.”
With this level of Morgilen poisoning, the man had maybe two or three days to live.
By then, his flesh would start to rot from the wounds, and he’d die a painful death.
Still, if he walked out of here alive, there’d be no corpse for her to deal with in the tomato field, which was a small win.
But even so, Lizzy couldn’t bring herself to make that decision easily.
The reason was simple.
“I swear I saw something in this book…”
[Saw what?]
“A way to cure Morgilen.”
[Ah.]
Garrett nodded as if he understood.
“If you knew a cure existed, how could you just let him die…”
Even when claiming she wasn’t Lizzy Atkins, this woman had tirelessly climbed the mountain to heal wounded animals and people.
Whether or not she was the same Lizzy, Garrett still believed she was, without a doubt, a Druid.
“It’s in this book. Lizzy Atkins read it—well, technically not me, but…”
She waved the book like it weighed nothing.
“Sigh… I should’ve paid more attention. I skimmed it because I thought I’d never need to cure Morgilen… Hey, what are you even doing?”
She had tried to ignore it, but couldn’t help asking.
Garrett was rubbing dirt off the man’s face with his wing.
[Just trying to memorize his face before he wakes up and runs off. Why does he have so much hair?]
“What do you need his face for?”
[So I can track him down later if he steals my tomatoes!]
“….”
Lizzy clicked her tongue at Garrett’s obsessive tomato defense, then returned to her book as the crow mumbled:
[I swear I’ve heard of this guy somewhere…]
“Yeah, that pitch-black hair and monstrous strength… doesn’t that seem ominous? I’m sure he has witch’s blood—”
“Watch your mouth, man!”
Yeah, I definitely heard about this guy. But where was it?
[Well, probably not important.]
Garrett shrugged, finished brushing aside the last strands of hair, and sighed.
[Phew. Finally done. Alright, time to see the face—]
The moment he looked down, Garrett clamped his beak shut.
[…]
It was a face he hadn’t expected at all.
Even as a crow, Garrett knew what humans meant by “handsome.”
Crows loved shiny things, and handsome people always had a sort of glow about them.
Like this man.
Deep-set eyes, thick brows, flawless white skin, a perfectly shaped nose, and beautiful lips—pale from blood loss but still striking. His sharp jawline only made him more attractive.
The impression he gave wasn’t warmth, but a cold, almost piercing beauty.
Still, there was no doubt: this was one of those “perfect men” humans always talked about.
[Lizzy! Lizzy!]
Garrett called urgently.
Even as a Druid, Lizzy still looked more human than bird—she could confirm it.
“What is it this time?”
As Lizzy turned to look, Garrett waited eagerly.
[Look at this guy’s face!]
After glancing over the man’s face, Lizzy raised her head and asked with a completely indifferent expression:
“…Why? Do you know him?”
[…]
Garrett’s beak fell open in disbelief.
Just then—
FWIP—!
“Oh no.”
CRASH!
Before Lizzy could finish, the window near the door shattered as a calf-sized Galloway eagle tumbled into the cabin.
Clutching a piece of golden fence in one talon.
“How many times do I have to tell you to use the door—!”
[Garrett!]
Ignoring Lizzy’s furious shouting, the eagle shook the golden fence piece triumphantly and cried out:
[Look! Look what I brought—]
[Zen! Perfect timing!]
Before the eagle could finish, Garrett interrupted.
[You look too! Look at this man’s face!]
Even an eagle like Zen—who frequented human towns—must have some sense of what counted as “handsome.”
Zen’s sharp eyes scanned the man on the table.
A few seconds passed.
Then Zen asked:
[Why, do you know him or something?]
[…]
Once again, Garrett’s beak dropped open in stunned silence.
