Chapter 12: Clear Streams, Clear Outcomes

“Hero, what was the world you originally lived in like? Please tell me! Was it the same as ours? Was it peaceful?”

A lazy afternoon.

The warm sunlight, as gentle as a butterfly resting on a flower petal, streamed into Esil’s room.

While eating the meal Cilia had brought, Esil met the gaze of the girl, whose wide eyes sparkled with curiosity.

Though they sat on the same chair, Cilia’s small stature made her upper body barely visible over the table, a sight that Esil found rather endearing.

“It was peaceful. There were no demon kings or monsters.”

“Wow… That sounds amazing. It must be a better place than here, right?”

At Cilia’s innocent question, Esil paused mid-bite, falling into thought.

Modern Earth.

A world of advanced civilization and heightened civic consciousness—it was certainly more comfortable than here.

The food, the sleeping arrangements, the entertainment, and the convenient tools—everything was better there.

But Esil knew all too well that a comfortable environment didn’t necessarily make for a wonderful world. Smiling faintly, she shook her head.

“It’s no different from here. Just another place where people live.”

“Really? Why? Without demon kings or monsters, it must be such a nice place to live.”

Indeed, modern Earth, free from the constant threat of monsters, was a safer place.

There was no need to stand guard all night or hide behind fortress walls as a shield.

However, Esil—or rather, Yoonseo—was well aware that one didn’t have to be bitten by monsters to feel their life threatened.

Modern life was harsh, always chasing something, always running.

“Life here is good, too.”

Though she had been betrayed and enslaved, the dreams and romance of this world were incomparable to the harshness of modern life.

But Cilia, knowing none of this, pouted in a playful grumble.

“Good life? Humph, with all the grueling sword training, the hard magic theory lessons, and those boring cultural studies. It’s so tedious. Isn’t there anything fun in your world?”

Her childish complaints brought a gentle smile to Esil’s face.

“Something fun, huh…”

Esil set down her fork and pondered deeply.

She wanted to give an answer that would meet Cilia’s expectations.

But the answer didn’t come easily.

What could be considered “fun,” lying in the overlap between modernity and this world, that a young noble girl like Cilia could understand?

Movies and novels came to mind, but movies would make no sense, and novels already existed in this world—though reading them felt more like delving into history books compared to modern storytelling.

“Hmm… What could be fun…?”

Bright-eyed, Cilia rested her hands on the table, her brown eyes glimmering like they had been enhanced with Photoshop effects.

Esil, feeling the pressure, wiped away a bead of sweat before finally opening her mouth.

“Well, there were… comic books?”

“Comic… books? Are they something you read?”

“No, uh, not just reading. You look at them too.”

“Huh? What does that mean?”

In truth, before being transported to this world, Esil had been an art student.

With a talent for drawing, she had worked part-time as an illustrator to earn her living expenses and was an avid reader of comic books herself.

At one point, she had even ventured into webtoon creation, though her lack of storytelling skills had quickly made the challenge too daunting to pursue further.

“A comic is when you put dramatic dialogue into a single picture.”

“Dialogue? On a picture?”

“Yes. And when a series of these pictures is arranged to form a story, that’s a comic book.”

“Wow… That sounds so interesting. Is it really fun?”

Cilia asked, her eyes widening with fascination.

Art existed in this world too.

Portraits, landscapes, and still-life paintings existed in this world, but there was no such thing as “comics” anywhere on the continent.

Esil nodded.

“Yes. I thought they were fun. Comics have a different charm compared to novels.”

“Wow, if the hero enjoyed them, I want to see them too! Can you show me?”

“Comics? Here…?”

“Hehe.”

Cilia grinned mischievously and nodded enthusiastically, leaving Esil flustered.

Since arriving in this world, she hadn’t drawn anything.

Pressing her lips together in hesitation, Esil eventually gave a reluctant nod.

After all, she had no right to refuse a master’s command.

“…It’s been a long time since I’ve held a pen, but I’ll give it a try.”

“Yay~! Wait a second! I’ll go grab some pencils and paper!”

Before Esil could respond, Cilia had already bolted from the room.

Still stunned, Esil remained seated, her gaze drifting to Mila, the bird perched in its cage.

She never imagined she’d be drawing again in this world. Life truly was unpredictable.

Cilia’s short legs pattered down the hallway as she dashed to her room, rummaging through her drawers.

Various trinkets flew about until she finally found a pencil. With a bright smile, she grabbed some blank pages from a book.

Just as she was about to run back to Esil’s room, someone called out to her as she stepped into the hallway.

“Cilia.”

“Oh!?”

It was Roden.

Arms crossed and frowning, Roden didn’t look pleased.

Cilia responded bluntly.

“What?”

“What are you doing?”

“The hero said they’d draw a comic for me, so I’m bringing these.”

She showed him the pencil and paper, but Roden sighed deeply.

“You’re giving something sharp to a slave? Are you out of your mind?”

“What?”

“What if they stab you with it or try to threaten you?”

“What nonsense are you talking about? The hero would never do that. And you—”

Cilia, now annoyed, furrowed her brows and glared at Roden. He flinched slightly.

“Are you going to keep calling them a slave? Do you want to get scolded?”

“What else am I supposed to call a slave? Even the master gave them that title!”

“Whatever! Call them that one more time, and I’ll punish you!”

For a moment, a faint violet mana flickered from Cilia’s hand before disappearing.

But Roden didn’t back down.

Cilia’s birthday party was tomorrow.

With the king attending, extra caution was necessary, yet here she was joking around with Esil without a care.

“Be careful, before I report this to the master! Have you forgotten the king is coming tomorrow?”

“Hmph, go ahead and tattle all you want.”

Though Roden’s concerns were genuine, Cilia dismissed him with a snort and continued on her way to Esil’s room.

Roden let out a long sigh.

He had sworn to protect Cilia no matter what.

“Sigh… She’s impossible.”

In the end, Roden begrudgingly followed her into Esil’s room.

“Wow~! Is this what a comic looks like?”

“…It’s just an attempt. I’m not very good at drawing…”

“That’s so fascinating! The art style is pretty realistic, but with the dialogue included, it’s so much more engaging!”

Cilia marveled at the single sheet of paper she held, brimming with admiration.

The paper was yellowed due to the poor refining process, but within two rectangular frames, a charming little comic was drawn.

Esil scratched her head awkwardly, stealing a glance at Roden, who was glaring at her with evident suspicion, before speaking to Cilia.

“…The first panel shows someone getting out of a car.”

“A car? What’s that?”

“It’s a vehicle, kind of like the carriages here. But it’s really fast.”

“How fast?”

“Hmm… from the capital to here, it’d take about 30 minutes, maybe?”

“From the capital? No way! There’s nothing in the world that fast!”

Cilia exclaimed, thinking Esil might be teasing her.

But when Esil shrugged her shoulders and raised an eyebrow, Cilia quickly accepted it.

The hero’s world must be a truly special place, she thought.

Cilia pointed to the second panel.

“Then what’s this? It has wings!”

As Cilia asked, Esil moved her pencil to explain the second panel.

But before she could, Roden stepped closer, resting a hand on the wooden sword at his waist.

Esil leaned back slightly, wary of Roden’s movement. He narrowed his eyes and issued a warning.

Of course, to Esil, Roden’s stern expression while clutching a wooden sword only made him look endearingly earnest.

“I am protecting Lady Cilia from a traitor. Please be cautious with that sharp pencil.”

“…Ha, can’t you just back off a little?”

“I am merely fulfilling the vow I made to the head of the family.”

“This is the hero. They’re not dangerous, so step back before I really get angry.”

Annoyed, Cilia growled, and Roden, now silent, retreated to the wall.

Esil, observing Roden’s behavior, gave him a respectful nod.

Roden seemed like a kind, upright child.

His determination to uphold his promise to his master, even if it came off as clumsy, gave him an air of loyalty.

And if someone serving their master possessed sound convictions, it was only natural for him to distrust her as a slave—it was, after all, a reasonable stance.

Besides, the sincerity in Roden’s eyes when he looked at Cilia made it clear he wasn’t someone to be wary of.

Perhaps noticing Esil’s gaze, Cilia turned to Roden and gave him a scolding look.

“He’s sweet, but he’s a little over the top. Please understand, Hero. I’ll apologize on his behalf.”

“N-no, it’s fine. He’s right, after all. I’m a traitor and a slave.”

The atmosphere grew somewhat heavy, prompting Cilia to spin around and glare at Roden with a raised fist.

It was a clear warning that she’d land a blow on him if he didn’t back off.

Roden, feigning nonchalance, whistled as he looked away, knowing all too well how much her punches hurt.

“Oh! That’s right!”

As if trying to shift the mood, Cilia suddenly clapped her hands and spoke in a loud voice.

“My birthday party starts tomorrow and will last for three days.

Is there anything you’d like to eat? I can sneak some out for you.”

“N-no, it’s fine. That might cause some misunderstandings.”

“Pfft, I know what I’m doing.”

“Huh?”

“As a young lady of the family, I’m simply providing Esil with the means to work effectively.

You can’t do much on an empty stomach, can you?”

“…What does that even mean?”

Esil murmured, puzzled by her words.

What could a powerless slave, stripped of everything, possibly have that the Duke’s daughter would want?

But as if to answer that question, Cilia lowered her gaze with a small smile.

Following her eyes, Esil noticed the notebook on the table.

“Please draw more. I want to see the Hero’s amazing story as a comic.

With a happy ending! It has to be a happy ending!”

“A comic…? You mean…?”

“I really, really love happy endings!”

Cilia clasped her hands together and beamed brightly.

She hoped, in her own way, that her idol could find comfort and heal her wounded heart.

Though her real life may have become a tragic story, Cilia wished for Esil to experience a happy ending through the comic.

Not as a slave, but as a hero.

And at the same time, she wanted to read more of this intriguing comic.

From just a glimpse, it seemed far more interesting than the dull novels she had read before.

With a cheerful smile, Cilia rose from her chair.

Of course, Esil had no way of understanding her little master’s deeper intentions.

It was hard to imagine such profound thought coming from a mere twelve-year-old girl.

“Well then, good luck, Hero!”

“A-ah…”

It seemed Esil was in for a busy day.

That night, under the unusually bright glow of the moonlight, Esil worked diligently on her drawings.

As Cilia had suggested, the comic depicted her own story.

The pencil moved swiftly, sketching lines and adding dialogue without hesitation.

For someone who had lost everything, even the direction of her life, having a “task” to focus on felt like a blessing.

Esil drew with such determination, fueled by the rare feeling of accomplishment, that she lost track of time.

She didn’t need to create a complicated plot—it was her own story, after all.

After hours of immersing herself in her work, the distant hoot of an owl made her stretch her stiff body.

“Ahhh…!”

Just then—

Knock, knock, knock.

The sound of a knock came from her master, Roselle.

“Oh no, it’s the master…!”

Roselle’s knock was always the same—not too loud, not too soft, just three concise taps that carried a sense of consideration.

Unconsciously, Esil had come to anticipate her master’s visits, and she quickly suppressed the small smile tugging at her lips as she hurried to open the door.

“Esil, I hope I didn’t disturb your rest?”

“N-no, not at all…”

But Roselle’s expression didn’t look good.

The day she had been putting off for so long had finally come.

It was time to speak.

A storm was approaching, and Esil needed to hear it.

Together, they would face whatever lay ahead.