Leaning against the Hunter for a moment seemed to calm my racing heart.

Thinking back to the chaotic scene from earlier still made my head pound, but the mere fact that someone was beside me made it all a bit more bearable.

Choosing the Hunter as my companion for this trip was turning out to be a stroke of genius.

If I’d chosen someone else, they might have panicked after seeing me like this. Their unease could have worsened my condition and caused me to lose consciousness.

“Thank you, Hunter. I feel a bit calmer now,” I said, turning my head slightly to glance at her and express my gratitude.

Feeling that I could move again, I tried to sit up and create some distance between us.

“Ugh.”

Just as I began to pull away, the Hunter suddenly tightened her grip, restoring my position against her.

What the—

I turned to her, a confused and slightly alarmed look on my face, as memories of her past antics resurfaced.

She remained still, looking at me with an expression that seemed contemplative, as if she were trying to confirm something.

Despite my embarrassment, I was the one feeling awkward now.

“Uh, Hunter?”

“Different intentions.”

Her words were cryptic, and before I could ask what she meant, her face softened into an expression I had never seen before.

The Hunter—known for her sharp, unyielding demeanor—was now gazing at me with a gentle smile.

Not a wide or radiant smile, but a subtle one, like sunlight breaking through a cold winter morning.

It was so out of character for her that I froze, unable to say a word.

“Perhaps… there’s something to it after all,” she murmured.

I was at a complete loss for words.

This moment felt surreal, like I’d stumbled upon something I was never meant to see.

We fled into an inn as though we were escaping something.

The innkeeper froze upon seeing me, their expression blank with what seemed like a mix of confusion and awe.

The Hunter handled the arrangements while I stood to the side, feeling overwhelmed.

Once we secured separate rooms, I collapsed onto the bed as soon as I entered mine.

Though lying on the bed in my current disheveled state went against every fiber of my being, I was too dizzy to care.

The flashes of memories brushing through my mind made even staying still exhausting.

Who was the white-haired woman from my memories?

Her face was hauntingly familiar, identical to the woman I had seen in my dreams—the one who had left me with the words “my final gift.”

I couldn’t think clearly.

Rather than finding clarity, my thoughts seemed to tangle further, leaving me grappling with an unsettling mix of emotions.

Tossing and turning on the bed, I suddenly heard a knock at the door.

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I called out, “Yes, who is it?”

“Time to eat.”

The Hunter’s voice came from the other side.

I sighed. Perhaps she was trying to be considerate, knowing how shaken I was.

For all her bizarre behavior, the Hunter had her moments of thoughtfulness.

If only she didn’t have such peculiar fixations, she might actually make a good companion for someone.

I forced myself upright, pushing through the lingering haze of discomfort, and opened the door.

And then I froze.

The Hunter stood there wearing the same distinctive outfit I’d first seen her in at the library.

“Hunter.”

“Hmm?”

“What… what is that outfit?”

“You’ve seen it before. It’s comfortable.”

“That’s not what I mean! Why are you wearing it now?!”

My exasperation was met with a tilted head and an incredulous look, as though I were the one being unreasonable.

“Would you prefer I eat in uncomfortable clothing?”

“Your previous outfit looked plenty comfortable to me!”

The Hunter ignored my protests with a shrug and turned to lead the way.

As she walked ahead, I couldn’t help but notice something.

Her steps seemed oddly light, almost as though she were in an unusually good mood.

Or maybe I was just imagining it.

The Hunter had chosen a quiet, nearly empty restaurant, likely out of consideration for my state of mind.

Even so, I couldn’t help but worry about the food. An establishment this empty usually wasn’t known for exceptional cuisine, and I wondered if it could satisfy the Hunter's refined palate.

When the pasta dish—laden with an almost absurd amount of meat—arrived, I gave it a tentative taste alongside the Hunter.

“Oh.”
“This is… pretty good.”

It wasn’t just edible; it was delicious.

How long had it been since I’d tasted something this satisfying? The richness of the meat, the perfectly cooked pasta—it all felt strangely familiar, as though I’d eaten it countless times before.

I noticed there seemed to be far more meat than what was listed on the menu. Was that intentional?

“This place being so empty… how good must the busier spots be?” I muttered.

“No, it’s the opposite,” the Hunter responded, cutting off my speculation.

“This place became a sort of shrine because of someone,” she continued, her tone oddly dry. “Most people can’t afford to eat here anymore. The owner keeps it running, believing that someone will eventually come back.”

Before I could ask who that someone was, another voice answered.

“You’re right about that.”

I turned to see a man—likely the owner—standing nearby with a faintly sorrowful look in his eyes as he gazed at me.

“Sir?”

Why was he looking at me like that?

I didn’t know him, and yet, his expression carried an odd mix of sadness and warmth, as though he were seeing someone dear to him.

“Thought you were dead, kid. Could’ve sent a letter if you were still alive,” he said, dabbing at tears with a handkerchief. “But seeing you here with your girlfriend, it’s almost like I’m watching my own son finally settle down.”

Girlfriend?!

I shot the Hunter a glance, silently blaming her choice of attire for this misunderstanding.

But the more pressing matter was…

“You… know me?” I asked hesitantly.

“Of course I do,” he said, smiling proudly through his tears.

“You’re the hero who brought peace to Lintpia, and my most loyal customer—Raydan Tantan, lover of beef pasta. How could I forget you?”

Lintpia’s hero?

Beef pasta regular?

Those words triggered another flood of memories.

In them, I was laughing and chatting animatedly with this very man.

He’d been kind, attentive, even fatherly in the way he listened to me.

And then there was me, gleefully devouring a plate of pasta, piled high with absurd amounts of meat—just like the one in front of me now.

“You really remind me of the son I lost,” he’d said.

“Well then, be my dad! I could use a few more!” I’d joked.

“Haha! You brat. Finish up and head back before someone gets jealous,” he’d replied.

“Huugh.”

The sudden rush of images and emotions sent me reeling.

My breath hitched, and I clutched my head.

“Raydan Tantan!”

The Hunter’s voice barely reached me as I staggered to my feet, my body moving on autopilot.

Something deep inside was screaming, urging me to run.

I abandoned my food and bolted out of the restaurant without looking back.

“Where are you going, Raydan Tantan?”

I heard the Hunter call after me, but thankfully, she didn’t follow.

Good. I didn’t want anyone witnessing this—seeing me like this.

I didn’t know where I was running to, only that my feet seemed to know the way.

Every street, every corner I turned, felt agonizingly familiar.

Why?

Why did it all feel like I’d been here before?

The voices started again, faint but growing louder.

“Muji Absoluta?”
“Muji Absoluta has returned!”
“Muji Absoluta?! Could it really be?”
“Aah! Muji Absoluta!”

Muji Absoluta.

Lintpia’s hero, Raydan Tantan.

“AAAAH!”

Finally, I reached an open square and collapsed, my body and mind utterly spent.

Panting heavily, I forced myself to lift my head.

If nothing else, I needed to know where I’d ended up.

What I saw stole the breath from my lungs.

Before me stood a statue.

It depicted someone raising a hand to the sky, a confident and almost cheeky smile on their face.

And that someone was unmistakably… me.