Pathfinder

Chapter Seven

Mordred examined Garam's anxious eyes. Was he like that too at first? Did he tremble and cry so weakly? Garam's eyes seemed to extract Mordred's buried memories. Mordred looked down at the small Garam clinging to him, feeling a strange sensation.

'Weak and young. This pathfinder will take a long time to get used to this life, just like I did.'

"Excuse me? Mr. Mordred?"

Waiting for an answer, Garam couldn't help but call out again when Mordred remained silent for a while. Her unhidden anxiety was overflowing.

"Sorry, I was thinking for a moment. I don't know where the people went either. However, I can explain why it happened, but it might take a while, so please sit down."

Mordred sat down on a nearby small rock. Garam sat on an even smaller rock next to him. After confirming that Garam was ready to listen, Mordred began his explanation.

"Pathfinders, unless they buy one using the path, have only one dimension."

"I have two, though."

"Listen carefully. Having one doesn't just mean opening a gate. It means that the dimension becomes active. It means that time passes, objects interact, and things happen. Things like the sun rising, the moon rising, and so on."

Garam nodded. Her world was certainly frozen. If he indicate that it wasn't activated, that would also be correct.

"When a pathfinder first makes a dimension jump, the original dimension becomes the base camp. It remains fixed at the moment when the pathfinder left, but I don't know why the people disappeared."

"Do you also have a base camp, Mr. Mordred?"

"Of course."

"Um, so does that mean time is frozen? But..."

"It's a bit different than that. It's literally fixed. For example, if you break something in the base camp or build something there and then jump dimensions, everything will go back to its initial state, the fixed state, when you return."

"So if, for example, a gas stove is left on, then what happens? Will it explode?"

"I don't know what a gas stove is."

"I mean, I'm talking about something that could become dangerous if it's left on. If someone built a bonfire and left without putting it out, it could spread like wildfire. Do you understand?"

"That won't happen. Your dimension's activation happens only within your control, within your field of vision."

"Does that mean the places I can't see are frozen?"

"Yes. You pick things up quite fast..."

Garam no longer thought that it was a dream. Too many things had happened that could never occur in a dream. No matter how many times she had tried to wake up from it, the situation remained unchanged. If it were a dream, it would probably be a deeper and longer dream than any dream in the world.

"I still don't fully understand."

"Just think about it. You have a world where you can do whatever you want. Everything there belongs to you. You just need to find paths using the objects and knowledge there."

"Paths?"

"Yes, paths."

"Why are you suddenly talking about the paths?"

Mordred looked at her with a bewildered expression.

"Hey, do you have any plans?"

"No, I don't... I haven't thought about it yet. Give me some time! I haven't gotten things settled yet."

Garam recalled Mordred's words and tried to organize her thoughts. Meanwhile, Mordred was amusing himself by rolling a small pebble with his toe, occasionally clicking his tongue. After a moment, Garam spoke awkwardly.

"I'm ready now."

"Alright, so are we going to find some paths?"

"What do I need paths for?"

"You didn't even listen to me. You need to find your family. Don't you want to return everything to how it was?"

Mordred whispered like a devil. Garam stared at Mordred's sweet smile as if she were enchanted. That charming smile contained a powerful hidden force.

"You need to collect paths and buy your family with them."

Garam understood what Mordred meant. She didn't just want it. To buy her family? Garam felt disgusted by the thought, but she nodded her head.

"Yes. I will collect paths and return everything to how it was."

Mordred gently patted Garam's head with his hand.

"Good. You made the right choice. I'll help you find what you're looking for."

* * *

"Where did Mr. Jerome go?"

It had been quite some time since they started walking. They were walking in the direction indicated by Garam's compass. Garam had a lot to think about, and Mordred wasn't a talkative person, so it was the first time they had exchanged words since leaving the road.

"He left. I stayed to wait for you."

"Ah..."

"How could I leave a novice pathfinder alone? I thought you'd come back in tears not long after leaving."

"But I didn't cry."

Mordred turned to look at Garam with a somewhat impressed expression. Garam had been quite shaken by anxiety, and it seemed like she would be lost in thought while looking at the ground for a long time. However, she recovered surprisingly quickly. She probably wasn't completely recovered inside, but it was still remarkable. Mordred wondered if she would handle things even better than he had anticipated.

"Well, by the way, do you also want to restore your base camp to its original state by collecting paths, Mr. Mordred?"

Garam was worried, remembering that he had been collecting paths for 300 years. Mordred looked at her and then shook his head.

"No."

"Then what are you collecting them for?"

"I don't know. I forgot."

As Mordred said that, his face looked as dry as desert sand.

There was a heavy silence for a moment. Garam had many questions about why he had forgotten his purpose of finding paths, but she couldn't bring herself to ask. She realized that Mordred's face, with its burdens and emptiness, represented his 300 years of existence.

"Is it expensive to restore everything to its original state?"

They had left the road and were climbing a hillside, following Garam's compass. Mordred had offered to help Garam find the paths, and she had gratefully accepted his offer. The inexplicable sense of familiarity that Garam felt from Mordred, who had lost everything, was like a lifeline thrown down into a well. Garam couldn't ignore it.

"Restoring everything to its original state is definitely costly."

Garam's face darkened. Mordred briefly glanced at her before looking straight ahead.

"Is this the right direction?"

Garam raised her arm and examined the compass. The needle was pointing in the exact same direction they were walking. Despite checking it almost every ten seconds, Garam didn't hesitate to check it again. That was how urgent her situation was.

"Yes, this is correct."

Garam looked at the starting point of the needle, the outer circle, and the forty-eight divided circles surrounding it. Although there were other circles drawn in a lighter color, these two circles were the only ones that looked important. The inner one represented the path they were searching for, while the outer one represented the time it would take to return home.

"The longer the needle is, the farther away the path is. How long is the needle? Watch it as you walk to calculate the distance."

"It's about the length of my pinky nail."

"It's close, indeed."

"Does that mean we can find it soon?"

Garam asked, her voice tinged with anticipation. Mordred looked at her with a faint smile, a rarity for him, and nodded.

"Yeah, we should be able to find it within two days at the latest."

"That quickly?"

"Yes. Is there any problem?"

"No."

For the first time since their journey began, Garam's face brightened. Two days sounded much more manageable than the daunting prospect of searching through ancient ruins or facing menacing monsters. Even though she felt like she was playing the role of a scavenger rather than a true pathfinder, she couldn't help but smile.

"Haven't I told you? Finding the first path should be relatively easy."

"Why's that?"

"I don't know, maybe it's a gift."

Mordred suddenly recalled the moment he found his first path. He couldn't remember the exact emotions he felt then due to the faded memories, but he remembered it as a pivotal moment that changed everything. It was the moment he decided to follow the thrill of the unknown.

"A gift?"

As Garam inquired further, she accidentally stepped on a loose rock and nearly slipped. Mordred swiftly reached out and caught her slender hand. His grip was firm yet surprisingly gentle, an odd contrast to his rugged appearance.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, thank you."

Mordred couldn't help but tease her about her footwear.

"Are you sure you're wearing proper shoes? Luckily you aren't barefoot this time at least."

Upon hearing his teasing, Garam grimaced, forgetting that Mordred had just saved her.

"These are sneakers."

"What are those?"

"Well, sneakers are shoes you wear for sports."

In Mordred's eyes, Garam's shoes appeared to be strange items constructed from fabric with odd metal additions. In his philosophy, good shoes were made of quality leather, and these strange fabric shoes contradicted that entirely.

Without bothering to listen to Garam's explanation, he effortlessly climbed a high rock. Garam, realizing that he wasn't listening, closed her mouth and joined him. Mordred extended one hand to help her ascend. Garam pursed her lips, making no effort to conceal her thoughts.

‘He doesn’t even know how important the air circulation is. These sneakers are also really expensive.’

Realizing that arguing over shoes wouldn't get them anywhere.

"When we get to a city, you should buy proper leather shoes, not those fabric ones."

Garam didn't bother to respond. In reality, for Garam’s travels, waterproof leather boots were more suitable than sneakers. There were often river crossings to deal with, and leather boots didn't need to be washed frequently. The advantages of these two features during a journey were immeasurable, but Garam didn't understand it.

"We should set up camp here for the night."

Mordred said, looking around the flat plateau on top of the high rocks.

"But the sun hasn't set yet."

Garam pointed out as the sun was still high in the sky, and dusk had not yet arrived. Garam found it perplexing and asked for clarification.

"It will set soon. In the mountains, it gets dark very quickly once the sun starts to set. If we wait until it's dark, it will be too late. Besides, a good camping spot like this is hard to come by. It's better to set up camp before sunset."

Mordred's explanation was taken seriously by Garam, who found it to be a credible reason. She realized that his actions, although somewhat peculiar, were not driven by ill intentions. If Mordred didn't help her, Garam would likely still be in the dark, not knowing what to do nor understanding the significance of the needle of the compass. In that regard, she felt a deep sense of gratitude for his kindness.

Garam collected firewood, and Mordred started a fire with it. As Garam took out a kettle from her backpack, Mordred filled it with water. As the water boiled, Mordred set up a sleeping area using a blanket from his pack while Garam unrolled her sleeping bag. Her sleeping bag was passed down to her from her father, who used to enjoy hiking. Thanks to her father saying he needed to rest on weekends, Garam's sleeping bag had only been used twice. It was practically brand new as a result.

As memories of her father proudly boasting about going hiking with all his new gear on weekend outings flooded Garam's mind, a sense of gloom washed over her face.

“Garam, I'm going to get in great shape from now on,” her father had said, laughing. Those words, mixed with laughter, felt like a thorn in her heart. The warm air, the laughter, the playful banter, and the smiles that used to fill her weekends—they were all gone now.

"What are you doing?"

Mordred suddenly pushed his head forward behind Garam, who was absentmindedly stroking her sleeping bag.

"I'm sorry?"

"What's that?"

"A sleeping bag. You sleep inside it."

Mordred examined the sleeping bag with a puzzled expression. In his world, sleeping bags were essentially fur or hide pouches that were rolled up. Some used better-quality animal hides, but the basic design was not much different.

"The water is boiling now. I don't need to eat, but you should."

Garam suddenly realized that she hadn't eaten a proper meal for days. She hadn't had the appetite for it. With this late realization, her stomach began to grumble in protest. Gurgling sounds echoed through her belly.

"I guess we should make some ramyeon. Mordred, would you like to join me?"

As she spoke, Garam took out two packs of instant ramyeon from her backpack and tossed them into the boiling water. The scent of the ramyeon quickly filled the mountain air. Clicking his tongue, Mordred silently extended his barrier to prevent the smell from spreading too far as the ramyeon cooked. While the ramyeon was cooking, Garam pulled out two chocolate bars and offered one to Mordred.

"If you don't like sweets, you might not like this, but I really do. Please give it a try."

Awkwardly taking the chocolate bar and observing how Garam ate it, Mordred reluctantly removed the wrapper from his own chocolate bar. Although it looked as tough and unappetizing as a rock, he decided to take a big bite, considering Garam's gesture. Apart from the slight stickiness, it didn't taste too bad, and Mordred quickly finished his chocolate bar.

"What is your base camp like, Mr. Mordred?"

Garam asked.