"Ceryl, where did you go? I’ve been looking everywhere."
The clear face that had almost become the scapegoat greeted me. She had no idea. For a moment, I wanted to grab Kallen and brag I saved your life.
Of course, I wasn’t going to do something that petty to a kid.
"Why were you looking for me."
"Elfera’s condition has improved a lot. She can even run now."
"Run? Already?"
It had only been a few days since I splinted her. Sure enough, because she was a monster, the recovery was fast.
It was a rare piece of good news, so I headed straight for the Stables.
"If Elfera fully recovers... do you think I could ride her?"
"Who knows. If she opens her heart to you, she’ll let you."
"Ugh, that’s hard. She’s so picky."
Not long ago she was throwing a fit because a monster licked me, and now she was seriously thinking about how to earn Elfera’s trust.
It was an admirable change. For the growth of my one and only aide, I shared a top-secret technique.
"What about giving her a name?"
"A name? But she’s Elfera."
"Elfera is a species, not a name. I’m Ceryl, and you’re Kallen. You wouldn’t call someone just ‘Human.’"
Every life is an independent being, each with its own identity. Giving a proper name allows the being to exist as a ‘self.’
Kallen, sharp as always, quickly understood. She snapped her fingers as if she had a good idea.
"How about this? If you shorten Elfera to Ella, and since she’s female, add a feminine suffix—so Ellasti—"
"No."
Kallen pouted at the immediate rejection.
"Why not?"
"It’s too long. Just call her Ella."
"It’s only four more letters. Ellasti—"
"No. No means no."
Sure, her mane did shine like silk, but no.
***
To secure red salmon, I headed into the forest with the two fishermen Jed had assigned.
We climbed a steep mountain path for about an hour before reaching the upper stream of the ravine. Sweat cooled instantly in the cold wind. Hot, cold—hot, cold—like being perfectly simmered.
"Ceryl, I didn’t know you were interested in fishing."
"Yeah. And you’ve never hung out with us before."
The two fishermen were, unfortunately, familiar faces: the yellow-haired idiot Leobin who once fed hay to Yangsooni, and the brown-haired fool Margon.
I had brought them because I had no better option, but trusting them was... difficult.
The water here was crystal clear, fitting for the upper stream. As soon as I sat on a flat rock, they each sat right beside me.
"Why are you sitting here? There’s plenty of space."
"But Ceryl, if we don’t sit like this, you won’t pay attention to us."
"Don’t talk nonsense. You’re annoying. Move."
Leobin shook his head slowly. The sight was so unsettling I leaned back—only for Margon to be standing right behind me, smiling as he unfolded his rod.
"See, if you hung out with us more often, wouldn’t that be nice? We’re your only classmates from training, after all."
So we were trained together. Useless information immediately evaporated from my head.
The two began preparing their gear with surprising efficiency. I ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) wasn’t interested in fishing, but the equipment caught my attention.
I craned my neck to look, and Margon laughed broadly.
"Ceryl, first time fishing? Relax. I’ll let you eat red salmon until you’re sick of it."
"I want to catch around twenty."
"Twenty?"
"Yeah. That’s about how much he needs to feel full."
He ate ten in the blink of an eye last time. So I needed at least double.
But Leobin and Margon exchanged troubled looks.
"Twenty is impossible. Unless it’s spawning season."
"Right. Even catching five in a day is hard."
So much for that confidence. My brow tightened.
"Five? That wouldn’t feed a nose."
My boy is going to starve to death.
I snatched the rod from Leobin. If they couldn’t do it, I’d do it myself.
At least ten. I needed at least ten to fill a dragon.
Heavy. So this is the weight of being a provider.
"Wait—Ceryl! You didn’t put on bait yet! Don’t cast it!"
Margon grabbed my hand. His large hand covered mine like a cast iron lid.
Reflexively, I slapped him away. He stared, startled.
"Don’t touch me."
I made no effort to hide how unpleasant it felt. I even flicked my hand as if shaking something dirty off. The two idiots exchanged looks.
Margon raised his hands and stepped back.
"U-uh... sorry. Didn’t know you’d mind. I mean—back then we used to hold hands all the time."
I held hands with this big grown man? Just the thought made my face twist.
"I’m not holding hands with another man. Put the bait on."
Margon shrugged and began shaping the bait from a small basket. A pleasant scent drifted out.
"This is Fragrant Ember Herb. It’s a water-spread herb that salmon respond to. When it touches the water, it warms and releases scent."
I expected worms. Fantasy world bait was... different.
Even the rod wasn’t normal wood. The flexible shaft had a blue sheen, and the fishing line shimmered.
Leobin noticed my interest and continued:
"Even a beginner can use it. It’s a top-grade Vairamok fishing rod."
"What’s that?"
"When a fish comes near, it vibrates. When it vibrates, pull. The Silmar fiber line will wrap the salmon for you."
So it was basically that relaxing fishing game I used to play.
Margon handed me my rod, bait in place. Three rods cast at once.
"But Ceryl, I’ve been curious—can I ask something?"
"No."
It would be about why I suddenly wanted to fish, and why I needed so many salmon. Anything related to the dragon was off-limits.
Thankfully, Leobin was dumb but obedient. He pouted, but shut up and focused.
The problem was simple: there were no fish.
We sat for over an hour with no bites. I started shaking the rod, but the bait just dissolved and disappeared.
"Sigh. As expected. No salmon when it’s not spawning season."
"Want to eat while we wait? I brought sandwiches."
I glared silently at the two idiots.
I’m anxious the dragon might be starving to death, and you want to eat sandwiches?
A single sharp glare made Leobin snap his mouth shut and stare straight ahead.
My neck was stiff from holding the same posture. I massaged my shoulder and stretched.
The sky was offensively clear again today. Tall conifers rustled overhead.
And at some point, across the ravine, an old man with white hair was fishing. Shabby clothes, thick beard, wide straw hat.
"Is there a village nearby?"
"No. Just our Facility."
"The nearest village is three days from here."
They answered one after the other.
I looked back at the old man. He had no supplies. Too empty-handed to have walked three days.
Maybe Facility staff? But his clothing was unlike any I’d seen here.
All staff, regardless of rank, wore uniforms.
"Is that old man from the Facility? I’ve never seen him."
Leobin and Margon glanced across the water.
Then both tilted their heads.
"Who are you talking about? There’s no one there."
...Don’t do this. This is fantasy. Please respect the genre.
I could see him clearly. They couldn’t. They only looked around in confusion.
I stared blankly at the old man. Maybe our voices carried—he slowly lifted his head.
For a moment, all my senses stopped. Like the first day I saw Varen’s eyes in the dark.
Just then, the rod in my hand vibrated. I had forgotten to breathe; I pulled in a sharp breath.
"Hey—there it is! You’ve got one!"
"Ceryl, pull now!"
It was simple, but red salmon were heavy. I had nowhere near the strength. Margon grabbed the rod with me, veins bulging.
A flash of silver-red broke the water. The lively fish overlapped with the face of the dragon who would be pleased.
"Wow, Ceryl! You caught a big one first try!"
"Congrats! How do you feel?"
I caught it, but they were the ones cheering and high-fiving each other.
I removed the hook and wrestled the fish into the net bag—it took several tries with how it flailed.
"Good. Now only nine more..."
I remembered the old man. I looked back across the ravine.
He was gone.
I hadn’t imagined it. That presence had been real. That gaze had been dragon-level.
They couldn’t see him. Another perk of being the one who transmigrated? Then what the hell was he—?
"I’ve got a bite too! Margon, help!"
"Urgh! I’ve got one too! Deal with your own!"
Both men lifted their rods at once. The dragon’s meal quota was being filled.
"Don’t drop it! Don’t drop it!"
The mystery and the transmigrator questions were instantly erased.
My mind held only one thought:
Varen, I’m bringing you something delicious.
