Xidriel shivered as the cold permeated into his body, flowing into every vein and pores to clean him of any impurities as a gentle hum filled his ears.

He relaxed his shoulders and closed his eyes, welcoming this oddly relieving sensation.

He could tell something within him is slowly changing, yet he couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

When he sensed that the purification was coming to an end, he opened his eyes to finally ask his question as to why he was brought over to this body.

Only to find that he was staring at the inn’s ceiling.

He scowled at that.

Seriously, who will provide him with an answer?

If his constant whining about his situation got that one deity—or so he assumes to be a deity—to show up in his dream, should he personally start and bother the three known deities with direct prayers, threatening them that he would put himself into further danger if they won’t answer him?

Surely they needed him alive for something or else they wouldn’t have brought him here in the first place.

“My, what a grumpy face you have. Had a bad dream?” Xidriel heard Amon’s voice somewhere to his left and he turned his head to look at him.

The red haired man was already dressed up as if he’s ready to leave at a moment’s notice, checking the contents of his satchel one last time, making Xidriel sit up fast in alarm.

He’s not planning on leaving him here, right? Xidriel barely knows how to get home to his family’s estate from here after all.

He then stopped for a moment, sensing something amiss.

He looked down on his left arm, which is now whole again and not a single bone out of alignment. He raised it up to his face, letting the baggy sleeves drop to his elbow, and inspected it closely.

There’s barely any scar on it.

“Lan is amazing, isn’t he?” Amon chuckled as he glanced at Xidriel’s direction. “He’s the best healer within our group, though it did exhaust him quite a bit.”

“Where is he…?”

“He’s downstairs.” Amon replied as he pointed towards the spot on the floor near Xidriel’s bed. “I got you some shoes to wear, by the way. We’ll leave in a bit. If you need to use the bathroom, do it now.”

Xidriel glanced down at the floor to see a pair of leather sandals commonly worn by peasants.

He looked back at Amon with a glare, who only raised his hands defensively and avoided eye contact with him.

“It is not my fault that we are in a rural area that doesn’t cater to nobles. And even if I had a spare pair of boots, they won’t fit you.”

Xidriel clicked his tongue at him, annoyed, but nevertheless swung his legs off the bed to slip his feet into the sandals.

As he was looking down at his feet, disgusted by the design, he caught sight of the shirt he was wearing.

His eyes widened in horror as he pinched the cloth and pulled at it slightly, seeing how it showed a good amount of his chest.

It reminded him of those risqué shirts some female models used to wear in certain magazines, but poorly imitated due to material quality and needlework.

There’s a good chance that the shirt is a prototype too.

While he doesn’t care what people choose to wear and make for their work since he’s not going near it at any cost, it bothers him deeply that the shirt fits him.

It hugs his figure in a way he didn’t like, while the sleeves had an airy feel about them.

Like it was once intended to be a female clothing but was specifically adjusted to his body frame.

“What the hell am I wearing?” He demanded as he looked back at Amon, who was still avoiding eye contact with him. “Did you also have this made?”

“Oh, believe me, I did not. The old village chief handed that over last night. It looked fine when it was folded up, I swear.”

“Couldn’t you have given me a shirt that belonged to you?”

“I don’t have extras, and I doubt you’d be happy wearing another guy’s old shirt…not to mention they’re oversized on you. I was lucky that I have an unused pair of pants for you to use.”

Xidriel bristled at that but couldn’t deny his words.

The body frame and size difference between them is obvious, but if he had to choose which shirt to wear, he’d rather pick another guy’s used shirt than the one he has on now.

Shaking his head in defeat, he went to the bathroom to relieve himself. When he came back out, he saw Lan had returned, also fully dressed up to leave and having a quiet conversation with Amon.

The two of them quickly broke up their talk upon noticing him and Lan gave him a warm smile as he extended out a cloak to him.

“Here, wear this. We’ll grab breakfast somewhere else.”

Xidriel took the cloak and wrapped it around himself securely. Amon, meanwhile, picked up the sleeping ‘boy’ and Xidriel only frowned.

“Is it safe to hold him close like that?”

“It should be. For now.”

Xidriel only raised an eyebrow at him questioningly, and Amon returned his look with his own sardonic expression, making them both miss out on the fleeting startled gaze Lan had towards Xidriel.

Lan then quietly moved to do one last adjustment on Xidriel’s cloak when he noticed him moving and showing what was underneath.

When they finally descended the stairs, the inn keeper only nodded in their direction.

He was oddly calm for someone who had to hear from a stranger that his helper died last night, if Xidriel had to guess what Lan did before coming back up to their room.

Once out in the street, Xidriel saw the villagers milling about, sometimes glancing curiously over at their direction but never dared to approach them.

Was it because Amon looked intimidating for being vigilant about the ‘boy’ he’s carrying as he walked next to Xidriel or is it because of how angelic Lan looked with his firm yet gentle smile as he led them to the village entrance like a natural leader?

They continued to walk all the way to the outskirts of the village uninterrupted, following the dirt road for a few minutes.

“We’re not…going to walk all the way to the next place, are we?” Xidriel asked apprehensively.

He likes taking walks, he even does day hikes back in the day in his old world, but he’s not really equipped with comfortable walking shoes. He’s already paranoid enough that he’d get blisters because of the leather sandals.

Lan glanced back at him with a small smile. “Don’t worry too much, young master.”

Xidriel pursed his lips as he continued to trudge behind Lan for half an hour until they arrived in a forked road with an old tree with thick trunks and wide shade coverage. He stopped in his tracks, looking up at it with awe while the other two went on ahead to stand under the tree.

His hometown in his old world was in the mountains, and he had seen his fair share of trees of varying age and size, yet this one gave off the feeling that it had existed far longer than any civilization, witnessing the steady march of time change its surroundings.

Lan rummaged in his bag and pulled out a small pouch as he and Amon stood close to one another.

“Hey, come here already.” Amon called him with a frown, making Xidriel flinch out of his reverie and quickly jogged towards them.

“Oh, right…what did you tell the inn keeper about what happened to the girl last night?” Xidriel asked as he stood before them. “The inn keeper seemed like he took the news oddly well…what about her family?”

Lan pulled out something from the pouch, a blue crystalline butterfly wings the size of his thumb, then looked at Xidriel with a cold and impassive expression.

“For the people in that village, that girl never existed to begin with. It’s best for you to forget about it as well.”

…

What…?