“Forgive the discourtesy before you.

  What you’ve told us of the Noseh has been… instructive.

  One last question.

  The Nahal said to resemble him—

  how might we persuade it to guide him?”

  Kadeshara took a moment,

  as if weighing the words,

  then slowly shook her head.

  “A Rofeh takes a Nahal as a reflection only after the third Milu’im—

  Tzahovnogar.

  Nahal appear in animal form

  so that, by taking a wholly different shape,

  they may more easily build a bond

  with the Rofeh.

  If one already bears a human form,

  then either the bond is already forged,

  or it is a Nahal

  who has not received Milu’im.

  The latter is… difficult to imagine.

  A spiritual being cannot survive in Chutz without training.”

  “There’s no bond,”

  Crys snapped.

  He remembered the boy

  with his own face—

  that mocking look—

  and irritation flared.

  “If he hasn’t gone through initiation,

  then he dropped out.

  You say it’s unlikely,

  but if he’s my Guide,

  that tracks.

  Two failures. Perfect match.”

  “If that were so, it would only prove how singular you are—”

  Kadeshara’s murmur

  was carried off

  by a sudden gust of wind.

  Crys and TT lifted their arms to shield their faces.

  Suguri grabbed at her swelling skirt.

  The sound she made—

  a small, undignified burst—

  was politely ignored.

  When the wind passed,

  Crys lowered his arms.

  The faintly otherworldly cast

  of Kadeshara’s face softened again into warmth.

  She turned to TT.

  “As for your question—

  I cannot trace the movements

  of this Nahal.

  I cannot even say it is Nahal at all.

  But you say Barneri called it so.

  Then ask Barneri.”

  “Where may we find him?”

  “Tzahovnogar—

  the island of spirits.”

  “You have our thanks.

  We’ll remember your counsel.”

  “You are devoted to your friend.”

  Her gaze rested on TT

  with something like maternal tenderness.

  “In Emet Echad Olam,

  friends can matter as much as Nahal—

  sometimes more.

  To already have one so rare

  beside you

  is a blessing.

  But remember this.

  No matter how close the bond,

  no matter how dearly you would reach out—

  there are trials

  one must face alone.”

  “I know I cannot take his place.

  But whatever awaits him,

  I will stand beside him.”

  TT met her gaze, steady.

  His sphene-colored eyes

  burned brighter than the light filtering through the forest—

  a quiet flame.

  Kadeshara smiled,

  so delicately it seemed almost sorrow.

  “If you are going to Adama,

  then go now.

  From the island’s edge to Tzvavir

  takes five bells.”

  TT bowed once more.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Then, to Crys—

  a glance. Let’s go.

  Suguri, who had been petting every Guide within reach,

  grasped the lion’s mane in both hands

  and gave it a firm shake.

  “Goodbye, little darling.

  I’m glad I met you.”

  “You’re leaving already?”

  Rabia, in the body of a lion,

  looked up at her

  like a kitten.

  “I wish you’d be placed in Adom Yekitza, Shu.

  Then you’d come play again, wouldn’t you?”

  “How can you be this sweet—”

  Suguri dropped to her knees

  and wrapped her arms around the lion.

  “Even if I’m not placed there,

  I’ll come see you.

  I promise.”

  Rabia’s low purr rumbled.

  Suguri hugged her once more,

  kissed the space between her brows,

  then rose.

  “I’ll come back.”

  Kadeshara answered with a slow blink.

  Suguri waved frantically to each Guide,

  then once—wide and bright—

  to all of them.

  And she ran toward Crys and TT, who were already walking past the fountain.

  Beyond the fountain—the river’s source—

  the path, once washed in pale green light,

  thickened into something denser.

  The scent of the forest deepened.

  Each of them needed time

  to sit with what Kadeshara had said.

  They walked in silence

  until Suguri, solemn, broke it.

  “Seventy-eight Rofeh.”

  “The one who truly changes the world.

  Noseh.”

  “Stop it. Both of you.”

  Crys’s face flared red.

  When Kadeshara had said it,

  it had felt distant—abstract.

  From the two of them,

  it hit differently.

  TT kept a straight face, but it was obviously teasing.

  Suguri’s was straight-faced too—

  but unreadable.

  “It sounds cool.”

  “A trope’s only cool if there’s just a little of it.

  Too much and it’s lame.

  You’ve seen it in comics, right?

  Games too.

  I’m already the guy without a Guide.

  That’s enough.

  I don’t need bonus traits.”

  “You’re the one who shouted during the ceremony.

  You added that bonus yourself.”

  “Ugh—just forget that!”

  Crys raked both hands through his hair,

  red to the neck.

  TT finally lost it.

  “You’re like a cheat character in real life.

  You’re unbelievable.”

  “That was just Kadeshara speculating.

  If seventy-eight Rofeh had been called,

  Soliorbis would’ve said something.

  Arkzen too.

  Rone. Tsitsi.

  None of them did.”

  “You’ve already met that many senior Rofeh?

  Total cheat.”

  “You too, Suguri?”

  Whatever he said,

  they twisted it.

  Crys turned away.

  Fine.

  He wouldn’t talk at all.

  TT kept laughing—gasping, almost convulsively—as though he were someone laughing for the first time.

  At one point he doubled over,

  clutching his stomach.

  Crys walked on,

  pretending not to notice.

  A few steps later, he gave a loud, deliberate cough.

  “…Sorry.”

  There was still laughter in it.

  TT fell into step beside him,

  natural as breath,

  rested a hand on his shoulder,

  and leaned close enough

  that Suguri wouldn’t hear.

  “The Noseh thing.

  Is there anything to it?”

  Crys shook his head.

  He wasn’t refusing out of spite.

  If anything, TT’s question mattered more than what Soliorbis had said.

  But without proof—

  saying no

  and not knowing

  were the same.

  TT studied his profile,

  then withdrew his hand,

  as if persuading himself.

  Deeper into the forest,

  Lesamin slipped from Suguri’s shoulder,

  asking to be held.

  Not curled up like an animal,

  but sprawled across her arm,

  belly up,

  using her wrist as a pillow.

  Like a middle-aged man day-drinking in a mall food court,

  Crys thought.

  “Sulking because Shu paid attention

  to the other Nahal?”

  TT glanced from Lesamin to Tsek,

  stroking soft feathers.

  “You were at Kadeshara’s too, weren’t you?

  Not going to say hello?”

  Tsek answered with a low, gentle trill.

  Crys watched TT,

  who seemed to understand it.

  “Can you tell what he’s saying, even if he doesn’t talk?”

  “Even if he doesn’t?

  What do you mean?”

  “Lesamin only says ‘Lesamin,’

  but Suguri says she understands.”

  “Seriously?”

  TT asked, amused.

  Suguri nodded,

  hair still like damp fur.

  “The tone’s completely different.”

  “Just from ‘Lesamin,’

  you understood about Emet Echad Olam?

  About Yom Reshit?

  Unbelievable.

  You should become a zoologist.

  You’d decode interspecies communication

  and build a translation device.”

  TT laughed brightly,

  then answered Crys.

  “Tsek talks.

  So I can understand.

  He’s quiet now

  so he doesn’t interrupt the Rofeh while they’re talking.

  And maybe he wants to see

  how far I can go

  without advice.”

  “Must be nice.”

  Crys let the words fall.

  A giant bird—an eagle—as a Guide. That alone was cool enough.

  And he doesn’t nag or micromanage—

  just steps in when it matters.

  Must be nice.

  Compared to that—

  “Lesa’s a good boy too.”

  Suguri thrust the sleeping Lesamin forward

  as proof.

  His tongue lolled out.

  A tiny snot bubble pulsed at his nose.

  Hardly the image

  of a being meant to guide a Rofeh.

  Crys fought a smile.

  Maybe TT and Tsek were the rare ones.

  Maybe most Guides

  were like this.

  And honestly—

  being with a friend

  who teaches you things

  is easier

  than being stuck

  with someone you don’t even like.

  “Yeah.

  I guess so.”

  Looking at Lesamin, who didn’t seem capable of much serious thinking,

  his worries felt stupid.

  He reached out,

  and stroked his head.

  Lesamin wrinkled his nose fiercely—

  as if to say,

  don’t ruin a good nap.

  “By the way, Shu—

  you did say I’m suspicious, didn’t you?”

  TT circled back to the way Suguri had introduced him to Kadeshara,

  then pointed at Crys.

  “I won’t deny

  that he jumps to conclusions

  and trips over his own feet.”

  “TT!

  That’s what you really think, isn’t it?

  What you told Kadeshara?”

  Crys protested.

  TT bared his teeth in a playful grin.

  Suguri rocked her arm

  until Lesamin’s breathing evened out,

  then lifted her face.

  “You’d probably be an honors student no matter where you went.

  The way you spoke to Kadeshara was flawless.

  But you build walls

  even with people your own age.

  With me, too.

  You’re only yourself with Crys.

  Even while we were walking through the Nahal forest,

  you shifted your tone—

  one for your real friend,

  one for the rest.”

  “I just met you, Shu.

  I can’t put you on the same level

  as someone I’ve known for years.”

  “There. That.”

  Suguri gave a small shrug.

  It wasn’t practiced—

  her shoulders only bounced slightly,

  not quite exasperated.

  “When you point at Crys in front of me,

  you refuse to use his name.

  Not his real one.

  Not even his game name.

  You say ‘him.’

  You avoid using Crys’s name when you’re talking to me,

  because it would create a sense of alliance between us.

  You’re avoiding that.

  But relax.

  I think of names as symbols.

  We’re walking together for now.

  Whether we become friends

  is something I get to choose too.

  So call him whatever you like.”

  “Was I that obvious?”

  “So obvious

  it felt intentional.”

  TT’s eyes lit up.

  He looked down at Suguri with something close to admiration.

  “You’re impressive.

  To notice that in such a short time.

  And to say it out loud.”

  “I didn’t do anything special.

  If anything’s impressive, it’s your restraint.

  For someone your age,

  you speak far too carefully.”

  “So I should drop the act around you.”

  TT smiled—

  not the refined, public one,

  but something conspiratorial.

  Suguri blinked once, dreamy,

  then nodded.

  “You can pretend I’m not here

  and talk games if you want.

  But I am curious how two people who’ve never met in person can already be this close.”

  “Alright.

  It’s basically a timeless classic.

  Got a handkerchief?”

  As the trees thinned

  and the forest’s edge drew near,

  Crys listened to TT

  like an audiobook in the background.

  The first time he landed on the First Island alone—

  unable to control his character,

  immediately targeted by other players.

  Temporary teams that stole his drops and vanished without a word.

  The time he challenged Valentus,

  lord of the grasslands,

  and nearly lost—

  until Crys appeared,

  handling Thistle with impossible calm.

  At that part,

  TT grew animated again.

  Suguri nodded along;

  she knew the story.

  Part of Crys wished it were just the two of them.

  Still—

  he enjoyed hearing the memory

  from TT’s side.

  The exaggerations

  made him snort despite himself.

  TT ended the story

  with his usual line.

  “And that’s when I begged Ad

  to be my buddy.”

  “You didn’t beg.

  I said yes right away.

  I wanted to team up with you too.”

  “That’s how serious I was.”

  TT always told this story

  like it was precious.

  Crys found himself smiling.

  It was true—

  he’d been the one supporting TT in-game.

  But it was TT

  who’d reached out first.

  Years passed.

  And now they were here—

  meeting in person.

  Back then—still unable to recover from his mother’s death, playing just to escape—he had been lonely.

  He hadn’t imagined this.

  The light grew brighter

  as they neared the forest’s end,

  strong enough to erase the shadows.

  Crys closed his eyes,

  let it wash over him.

  To laugh again,

  to talk about nothing

  with a friend—

  It felt unreal.

  If this was a dream,

  maybe it wouldn’t be so bad

  not to wake up.