‘Why is it so quiet?’

  Inside Arnold’s mind, Izzy frowned, her consciousness drifting across her mindscape. The usual lively chatter was nowhere to be found. The earlier encounter in the forest had demanded her full attention, so she hadn’t noticed when her young mind had disappeared.

  ‘Isa?’

  There was no answer. Normally, Isa would reply to her with a giggle.

  ‘…Where did she go?’

  Unease crawled up Izzy’s spine. The last time Isa went silent was during Benjamin’s fight, but even then, Izzy could still perceive her. This silence felt bizarre.

  Both of their minds had agreed to give themselves some private space in their mindscape. That's why, more recently, they can act and think as two individuals rather than one.

  It was a good thing, because even though they were part of one soul, no one would be comfortable having their thoughts heard by the other.

  She shifted her perspective and focused inward, sinking deeper into their mindscape to locate Isa. But as soon as she connected to her young mind–

  “W…Wow”

  Izzy froze. She found her.

  Through the main body, Izzy saw the girl’s vessel in the attic.

  She was spinning around, exhaling excitedly in front of the dresser while holding another dress, chemise, and drawers.

  The floor was a little battlefield of colorful fabrics. She dressed herself up like a child finding a new doll to play with.

  Then, after landing from a hop, she struck a playful pose, one knee bent slightly inward. Her left hand came up beside her head, fingers forming a cheeky V. Her head tilted toward those poised fingers, a sparkle in her eyes, and a smile on her lips.

  The moment she sensed Izzy watching, Isa scrambled. Her face was beet-red.

  ‘k—kyaa!!’

  The girl immediately sat down and hugged her own figure to hide herself. She threw the dress in her hand to their main body, trying her best to close the main body’s Field Vision, but it was futile.

  Isa’s embarrassment flooded through their link like a tidal wave. Her posture went stiff as a board, her head ducking as her bangs fell to hide her mortified scarlet face.

  ‘G… Get out!’ Isa managed to shriek.

  Izzy retreated her consciousness back so fast it felt like she mentally slammed a door shut, a wave of secondhand embarrassment washing over her. What Isa just did was not her problem!

  Absolutely not her problem!

  The mature mind inhaled once to steady her metaphorical composure and delivered a necessary warning before withdrawing her mind completely.

  ‘Don’t try it in front of our main body.’

  The attic still held their portrait, their true body, resting on the wall. Luckily, Izzy had been solely focused on Arnold earlier and hadn’t noticed her until now.

  Who knew what her young mind would do if Izzy had really watched her from the start? About how she spun around and tried all sorts of cute poses? She might die from shame, for real.

  ‘O-Oke…’ Isa sheepishly replied, her voice coming out smaller than before.

  Did Izzy really enjoy it in her previous life? Izzy thought for a moment but soon shook her head.

  ‘No, it can’t be.’ She was a man, after all. How could she?

  It’s just Isa doing Isa things. Izzy left it at that. There was nothing to see. Really.

  Returning to her vessel, Arnold stood at the edge of the forest, looking out over the open landscape of the village beyond.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  ‘There really is a village here. Guess he didn’t lie.’

  He narrowed his eyes beneath the bandages and used the bird’s elevated view to survey the land ahead. From above, he could see the village clearly, a sprawling tapestry of rustic life woven into the rugged terrain.

  Dirt paths split the village into winding arteries, packed down from cart wheels and bare feet. Fences of wooden stakes enclosed modest gardens, protecting the rows of cabbage, limp turnips, and stringy onions grown despite the cold.

  A creaking water wheel turned steadily along the nearby creek. Laundry lines stretched between abodes, sagging with shirts, rags, and dull-colored dresses.

  Clusters of timber-framed cottages leaned slightly from age, their walls plastered with daubs of clay and straw. Their roofs were shingled with uneven wooden planks, patched in places with tar sheets or bundled thatch. Thin spirals of gray smoke rose from stone chimneys, mingling with the damp, earthy scent of the winter air.

  There was no elegance here. Farmers labored in the open fields despite the chill. Men plough through dark soil; women with pants rolled up to their knees wade through the mud, pulling stubborn green stalks from the earth and tossing them into wicker baskets strapped to their hips.

  By the farmhouse fence, a shepherd whistled loudly, guiding his sheep into the barn. The woolly animals bleated as they crowded under the wooden shelter.

  Muscular woodsmen trudged back toward the village with axes strapped to their belts and carts stacked with chopped timber. In a small chalk-drawn ring, others engaged in a rough game of pull-and-push, their laughter echoing through the air.

  The local bar was open all day, its doors spilling out the sounds of men singing, clanking their ale, and drinking away their troubles. Outside its walls, the poorest lay unconscious in the mud, covered in rags and stinking of stale liquor and unwashed bodies.

  The barter market thrived with useful goods. People bartered and traded for handmade soap, crude ceramics, rough-woven fabrics, bundles of herbs, and freshly baked bread.

  Children, seemingly oblivious to the harshness of their surroundings, played in the open road. They shot marbles, played card character games, jumped, chased each other, and hid among the alleyways and barrels. Some proudly carried small slates and chalk, marching toward a modest church whose bell had long rusted.

  In the yards of the small wood houses, women deloused each other’s hair, kneaded dough, and plucked chickens' feathers. From within, the scent of cooking pots drifted out; mothers cooked for their families, while children scrubbed next to wooden tubs. At some porches, several women in dresses and stained aprons gossiped in tight circles. Their hair was tucked beneath faded bonnets. Their laughter echoed down the lane.

  Off to one side, young girls sat cross-legged, embroidering clumsy patterns into cloth stretched across wooden hoops. Others knelt beside washtubs, pounding clothes against washboards with rhythmic smacks.

  In the middle of the village square, young girls and boys danced around a weathered stone statue, their movements a fleeting moment of joy in an otherwise rough life.

  Farther away from the village, stood the only fine building in sight, a large estate with a fenced yard, an iron gate, and trimmed hedges. The home of the village’s baroness, no doubt.

  This was Winterin.

  And there was one thing in common here: they were all keeping a distance from him.

  Arnold entered the village proper, drawing startled looks immediately. Standing in the middle of this busy village, Arnold looked down at his own pristine white frock coat and polished boots, a grimace forming on his face.

  ‘So much for not standing out, heh.’

  Villagers froze as he passed. Their gazes swept up, landed on his bandage-wrapped head, and they would recoil immediately.

  Women would gasp, bow abruptly, and hurry away as if chased by misfortune. Men stiffened their backs, lowered their eyes, and avoided him as if he carried disease.

  Children would gawk at him until their mothers yanked them away, keeping themselves at a safe distance.

  Even wrapped like a mummy, his appearance still attracted too much attention.

  ‘If I had come without the bandages, they would have fainted on the spot.’ Arnold smirked briefly.

  He could imagine what would happen if he sauntered around with his bare, disfigured face exposed.

  Looking back, Erin’s reaction seemed mild in comparison. He now had a newfound evaluation for her.

  Using his Fiend Vision, Arnold noticed several men lurking and gazing at him with a mix of hunger and wariness.

  Some crouched behind cottages; others watched from shadowed corners as if wondering whether he was prey or predator. He could feel hesitation in their action.

  To put it simply, no one dared to approach Arnold. At least he wouldn’t be bothered; he could appreciate that much.

  'Mmm,' an interesting idea formed in his mind. He might as well pretend to be a young master, so no one would look down on him. He might even get better information this way.

  “Ex…excuse me, sir?”

  As soon as he thought so, a small quivering voice called out to him from behind.

  ‘Here we go,’ Arnold sighed internally, prepared to act as high and mighty as possible, like what he had read in the novel in Izzy's past life.

  He turned around, only to see a small girl, standing no taller than his chest. A small wicker basket hung from her elbow. Inside were flowers arranged with care: wild daisies, snowdrops, little pink camellias, and a few fragile violets...

  Her dress was patched and faded, with brown hair braided loosely but slipping out in strands.

  The girl’s cheeks were rosy. Her wide brown eyes, though tinged with fear, looked straight at him.

  She stepped forward timidly and lifted one trembling hand to offer him a delicate white daisy.

  "Might you care for a blossom, sir?" she asked, her voice so meek it almost disappeared into the wind.

  Bruh, Izzy was out fighting with her life on the line right there, while Isa just enjoyed herself…

  Yes, I know there is a lot of exposition here. But I kinda wanna do it, so in later chappies i don't have to describe them anymore. There is another technique for describing a place, I remember, but I don't know how to deploy that. Technically, instead of scrambling all words into one long paragraph, it’s to split it up into smaller sentences throughout the chapter, or follow the character’s POV to describe them, or show, don’t tell, or something. Idk.

  New character, yay!

  Important notice: I will open a new chapter about a very Important notice. It's not a hiatus, don't worry! Just Patreon, Discord, scheduling in December, and illustrating/updating the novel's cover, and so on, I think? (The notice has 1.7k words... How should I put it? It feels like a chapter about myself rather than a notice lol. I will try to reduce the word count...)

  Notice 2 (12/10): For anyone wondering why the commenter is so strange, this chappy has been edited out because of some mild but questionable sexual content, which was in the gray dangerous area. It's not a good fix, but I will try to think about it in the future. If you want to read the original, then you could read it on my Patreon (because I'm too lazy to fix it there, and there is no one there anyway). It's free.