A few minutes earlier, while Keigo was still walking toward the Susago house…
Kiyokazu Lazar — POV
"So then, shall we continue with our game?"
Mother's voice carried that particular lightness she reserved for moments like this — warm, unhurried, a little mischievous. She picked up the wooden cube from the table and turned it slowly between her fingers, the small smile on her lips suggesting she already knew something neither Sarah nor I did.
Sarah and I were still sitting on the sofa. The atmosphere between us had grown heavier since the last round, thick with things left half-said, answers given too quickly, questions that had no clean endings.
My own words still lingered somewhere behind my ribs.
Yes… I would confess them.
Why couldn't I shake that sentence loose?
Beside me, Sarah shifted. Her long brown hair fell over one shoulder as she glanced at the cube in Mother's hand, then briefly — just barely — at me, before looking away.
Mother caught the silence and raised an eyebrow. "Well? Are we playing or not? You two went quiet all of a sudden."
"It's just…" Sarah let out a small, awkward laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. "Some of those questions were a bit much."
"That's precisely the point." Mother grinned. "If it were easy, it wouldn't be worth playing."
I said nothing. I was still watching the cube, turning it over in my mind — the green face, the red face, the blue face — as if the colors held some answer I hadn't found yet. Everything felt heavier than it ought to.
Mother tossed the cube onto the table. It rolled twice and stopped on green.
"Ha! Safe again," she announced triumphantly.
Sarah leaned forward a little. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you, Miss Maya?"
"Immensely." Mother's eyes sparkled with open mischief. "Especially when I get to watch Kiyokazu squirm."
I rolled my eyes, though I couldn't quite stop the corner of my mouth from pulling upward. "You're evil, Mom."
"Only with you two," she said softly — and somehow it sounded almost affectionate.
The game continued. For the next few rounds, the questions landed lighter: favorite foods, old childhood stories, what we would do with a whole day and no obligations. Sarah laughed more than I expected. Even I answered a question or two without turning them over a hundred times in my head first. The tension didn't disappear, but it settled.
At one point, Sarah turned to me after Mother had landed on red again.
"Alright. My turn to ask you something." Her voice was gentler than it had been before. "If you could change one thing about your daily life — what would it be?"
I thought about it for a moment.
"The silence, I suppose," I answered quietly.
Sarah looked at me.
"What?" said mother.
They were both watching me now, waiting, their expressions caught somewhere between confusion and expectation — as though they had been anticipating something longer, something with more weight behind it.
"What is it?" I said. "Why are you staring at me like that?"
"That's… a rather vague answer, Lazar," Mother said, her voice carrying the particular shade of disappointment she usually didn't have.
"What did you expect? A documented account of the matter?"
I glanced at Sarah. She was scratching the side of her neck, her gaze drifting sideways to the table. Then she turned back toward me.
"Is it my turn now?" she asked.
"Yeah," I said.
This is unbearably awkward.
She reached for the cube, shook it once in her closed hand, and sent it rolling across the table. It spun, wobbled, and stopped on blue. One question.
The game had started to wear on me. I could feel the restlessness building in my legs before I'd even made the decision to stand.
"This is it for me."
"Where are you going?" Mother asked.
I was already mid-step away from the sofa when something caught my wrist. I turned. It was Sarah — her hand wrapped around my right wrist, her turquoise eyes looking directly up at me.
"Just one more question, Lazar. Please."
"I'm sorry," I said, not unkindly. "But I'm done."
"Come now, son." Mother's voice came from beside the table. "At least ask her question. Don't waste her turn."
I raised both arms above my head and stretched, feeling the familiar series of cracks travel up my spine. I held the thought for a moment — then let it go.
"I said I'm done, Mom. I'm going to my room."
"You're such a party breaker, Lazar. We were just reaching the interesting part—"
"I'm sorry I ruined the game. I simply don't feel like playing anymore."
I turned and walked toward the stairs.
Behind me, I heard Mother's voice drop lower as she addressed Sarah: "So what shall we do now?"
"I don't know," said Sarah.
"You could go up to Lazar's room, if you'd like."
I stopped walking.
"What do you mean by that, Aunt Maya?"
"You don't have to stay down here with me. I have a few things to take care of, and I suppose Lazar would be better company for you at your age."
"That isn't true — I genuinely enjoyed our conversation earlier, Aunt Maya."
"Lazar!" Mother called.
"I'm right here, Mom. No need to shout."
"Is it alright if Sarah spends some time in your room? I have things to take care of."
"She can come if she wants," I said, and continued toward my door. "I don't mind."
I opened the wooden door of my room and went inside. The interior of my room was as simple as you can get, not much for the eye to notice.
My room had never been much to look at, and I had never seen the need to change it.
A bed in the corner beneath the window. A desk along the opposite wall. A small closet for my clothes and, above the desk, a narrow wooden shelf holding the few books I kept close. The window looked out toward the tree line — the edge of the forest that began where the village ended.
I sat down on the bed and leaned back against the wall, watching the trees through the glass.
The snow-covered softwoods swayed as the wind moved through them, their pale shapes shifting slowly in the grey afternoon light. I was looking deeper in, past the nearest trunks, searching for something I had noticed before and couldn't quite explain.
That one tree.
There was no snow on its needles. Everything else was covered in white, but that tree stood bare in a different way—different enough that I kept coming back to it, kept comparing it to the others. Something about it wasn't right. I could feel it more than I could see it, and that feeling didn't yet have a name.
Something chased Sarah.
I rested my chin against my hand.
The floorboards in the hallway shifted under quiet footsteps, and a moment later the door handle lowered. Sarah stepped into the room.
I looked at her briefly, then back to the window.
"You want to go back out there, don't you?" she asked.
"Yeah," I said. "I do."
She was quiet for a moment. "If only I understood why that forest pulls at you the way it does, Lazar."
"It's difficult to explain." I kept my eyes on the trees. "I just want to be there. Being cooped up inside is stifling and boring, isn't it?"
"No," she said plainly. "It isn't. Not to me. Not compared to that forest."
A pause. "Do you mind if I sit?"
"Go ahead."
She moved through the room slowly, letting her eyes travel over the shelf above the desk. She tilted her head to read the spines of the books.
"Your room hasn't changed at all since I was last here."
"You were here a week ago, Sarah. What exactly do you think could have changed?"
"I know, but honestly — it's a little depressing in here." She turned to face me, her expression earnest rather than unkind. "You should add something. Break up the emptiness."
"Such as?" I asked.
She laughed — a small, honest sound — and scratched her cheek. "I don't know, Lazar. That's for you to decide."
"I already have everything I need."
"You have a bed, a desk, a closet, and four books." She gestured at the shelf. "That's not everything."
"It's more than enough."
"It's the emptiest room I've ever set foot in."
"I'm glad it's different from what you're used to." I turned to look at the room as she saw it — then back out the window. "Look at it. Clean. Not too large. And quiet — genuinely quiet. No noise pressing in from anywhere. It feels like being deep underwater. Like the ocean floor." I let out a slow breath. "It's restful, being here."
Sarah considered that for a moment. "I can see it, partially. The quiet part at least, — my room is never this still. But the rest of it…" She shook her head lightly. "One part of me understands why you are going to the forest. But the other part will never understand."
"If the boredom gets to you, take one of the books down and read," I said, nodding at the shelf. "That'll sort it."
She stood and drifted toward the desk, running her fingers lightly along the edge of the shelf. "I've never actually asked you what they're about."
"Depends which one. Some are about Nivalis. One covers medicinal plants — wild ones, the kind you can use without a healer nearby. The others deal with the history of other countries and the wider world."
"Medicinal plants?" She looked back at me, curious. "I didn't know you were interested in that sort of thing."
"You'll never know when you will need it. It's great to know such things"
"Did you know, for instance, that there are berries growing in Vallaria that reduce stress? They process them into a tincture."
She blinked. "I had no idea."
"Neither did I, until I read it."
"And here —" I leaned forward slightly.
"In the history book, there's a legend about an ancient temple somewhere in Solunaris. They say that any couple who enters it together and performs some ritual will be bound by eternal love."
Sarah turned fully toward the shelf, her interest caught. "That sounds remarkable." She began to run her fingers along the spines. "I would want to visit a place like that."
"I don't think you can Sarah."
"Why?"
"Because no one knows where it is anymore, or what it looks like. It's only a legend."
"How stupid, they always ruin the most beautiful things," she murmured.
"It isn't anyone's fault. Wars have a way of consuming history — the buildings, the roads, the knowledge of where things stood. But legends usually carry a seed of something real. I wouldn't be surprised if the temple still exists somewhere, half-buried in old ruins, waiting." I paused.
"But, if you want places worth visiting, though, you have: The Queen's Fountain in Ezoris. The statue of Akira in Nivareth. And Vallaria itself — everywhere you look there, something is worth seeing."
"I want to go to all of them," she said, with the particular conviction of someone who meant it completely and had not yet questioned whether it was possible.
Classic girl thinking…
"What of them would you like to visit?"
I thought about the places who I would like to visit. Many came to my mind instantly, Targoss Mountains, Vallaria nature, Naxana's Fields and many other tourist attractions.
"If I had to pick one," I said, "probably Vallaria's hot springs."
Her expression shifted — interested, a little wistful. "I've never been to a hot spring."
"Neither have I. They're common down there, apparently. We only have the one here, up in the capital."
The room settled back into quiet. Outside, the trees swayed again.
"Have you ever been to Nivareth, Lazar?"
"No. Why?"
"I just wanted to know."
"No," I said again, more simply. "But both my parents lived there once. Before they came here."
"Why do you think they left a city like that to live out here, in Liva village?"
I looked at her. "How would I know, Sarah? I wasn't born yet."
She laughed, caught off guard by her own oversight. "Right. I completely forgot."
"Would you want to go there?"
"Ehhh… I don't know honestly. What about you?"
„I would like to..."
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
I looked toward the door.
"Come in."
The door opened and my father stepped through. He paused in the doorway, his gaze moving briefly between the two of us.
"Sorry to interrupt you two."
"You weren't," I said.
„I will need your help to fix the roof Lazar. Would you like to help me?"
"Yeah." I got up from the bed. "Let's do it."
He nodded and turned back toward the hall. "Put something warmer, it's gotten cold outside."
I went to the closet and pulled out my fur jacket. When I looked back as I pulled it on, Sarah was still sitting on the bed, watching me. She didn't say anything. I held her gaze for just a moment before I closed the door behind me.
We went down the stairs and out through the front door. The cold met us immediately — sharper than the morning had been, the kind of cold that finds the gaps in your clothing before you've taken three steps. The snow had thickened since earlier, falling steadily and without hurry.
Father handed me the bag of tools and pointed to the ladder propped against the side of the house.
"Hold it steady while I go up."
I braced the ladder as he climbed. The wood creaked under his weight and small cascades of snow fell from the rungs with each step. When he reached the top, he looked down.
"Hammer and the saw."
I passed them up to him and then climbed after him, the wind catching my face as I rose above the roofline. The roof itself was buried — a flat, unbroken layer of white that muffled every sound. We started clearing it together, working in silence, scrape of the shovel and the occasional low groan of the wood being the only sounds between us.
Keigo hammered a nail into place. The sound rang out sharp and clear against the still afternoon.
"You and Sarah have been talking quite a bit lately," he said, not looking at me.
I brushed snow from a loose tile.
"I suppose we have."
Another nail, another clean strike.
"She's a good girl," he said. "Sharp. Caring. You could do far worse."
I looked at him. "What do you mean by that?"
"What I meant to say was that she is good. She works hard and she looks out for the people around her."
"That's true."
He was quiet for a moment, fitting a tile back into place with the flat of his palm. "Don't forget that she cares for you, son. Girls like her are rare. If you lose her, you'll feel the loss more than you expect."
"I don't follow you, Father. What are you trying to say?"
He let out a short breath — not quite a laugh, but close. "You will, one day. You're still young for all of that."
Is he thinking about love?
Does he think Sarah is my girlfriend?
"Are you asking if she's my girlfriend?"
He glanced at me then, the wind pulling his white hair back from his forehead. In that moment I could see the scar that usually hid behind it — a pale, jagged line above his brow. His expression was unreadable.
"No," he said, without hesitation. "That wasn't what I meant. But now that you've mentioned it yourself — is she?"
I looked at him, I thought about the times I spent with Sarah, it's true that we had a lot of fun together, especially her, but we never talked about such topics. Love topics are something we never talked about. Apart from this game of dice we had today, we didn't have such conversations, nor did we ask them to each other.
"No," I said. "She isn't."
"Why not?" he asked.
"Why are you pressing this, Father?"
"Hahaha." He scratched the back of his neck, "I've never talked to you about things like this, Lazar. I'm curious, that's all. I'm your father — I'd like to know who you are, beyond what I can see. But if you'd rather not say, I won't push it. I know how these things can be, I experienced them before."
"We've never talked about it," I said. "Love, or anything like it. It just… hasn't come up."
"Well." He set another nail and struck it. "You had your chance today."
"It's bad that I ruined it today."
"I told you before father didn't I? You didn't ruin anything. We were just talking nothing else."
He didn't answer immediately. He worked in silence for a bit, fitting two more nails from his pocket.
"And what were you talking about?"
"Eh, nothing special. Several things."
"Such as?"
"The old temple in Solunaris — the one associated with eternal love. And places we'd like to see someday."
"That temple." He paused mid-swing. "I've heard of it."
"Does it still exist?"
"No one knows," he said, "The years have consumed it."
"Sarah said she'd want to visit it."
He nodded slowly, resuming his work. "If she's looking for something like that, there's a temple in Droswen — with similar beliefs, similar traditions."
"There is?"
"Yeah, sad news people of Nivalis are forbidden to visit that country."
"Why?" I asked.
"Because they are the vassals of Naxana, they have to listen to what they are saying otherwise they will get occupied by them."
"Anyway" he shook his head, "I saw you playing that game earlier — with the cube. What was the name of it?"
"Mom invented it. She called it a game of lies."
"Game of lies?"
"How does it work?"
"Yes, in short the cube decides everything. Blue means two questions — one from each person. Red means one question, from whoever's sitting closest to you. Green means you're safe."
"Aha, I understand so that's why you needed the cube."
I nodded.
"And what questions could you ask each other?"
"Any questions were allowed."
"Even something like — do you love me?"
Another nod.
"Heh" he threw, "I hope you had fun playing it."
"I did. Though it got strange toward the end."
Keigo nodded slowly, like he understood more than I was saying.
"I can already imagine what they asked you." He said adding the final touches to the roof.
We finished as the sun began to descend. The sky had shifted to deep orange over the tree line, the last pale blue of the afternoon dissolving into it. Father wiped his hands against his trousers and surveyed the work.
"Good enough. Let's go down."
He began climbing down the ladder and I held the top rail steady, watching him descend. As the rungs carried him lower, I turned a thought over in my mind.
Why did he call me up here at all? He did all the work himself. He didn't need me.
By the time I reached the bottom, he was already waiting on the path below.
"Want to go for a walk son?" he asked.
He usually doesn't ask for things like this.
"Sure, why not" I said.
He nodded, turning around and walked the path, we took a left turn and were slowly going down the path to the forest. There was another path that lead to left going upwards the village.
To my right I could just see snow-covered softwoods trees, while on my left I could see my village from a far. Neither of us spoke. The path was quiet under our boots and the sky above us darkened slowly.
Eventually we came to a wooden bench set back from the path on the right. We both stopped, and without a word, sat down.
He had his hands on his knees, his back slowly leaned forward and just stared at the village ahead.
I watched him for a moment, then turned to follow his gaze.
"Lazar," he said at last.
I looked at him.
"What are your plans?"
"What do you mean?"
"For the future." He kept his eyes on the village. "Is there anything you're working toward? Anything you want?"
Is this why he wanted to walk? So we could talk.
The question surprised me, I haven't thought about such things for a long time, and I didn't have any plans for the future. I stared at the snow under me, thinking.
"I don't know father," I said. "I haven't thought about it."
"Do you know what an essencer is, son?"
"No."
He lifted his right hand from his knee and held his open palm between us.
"Look at this"
After a moment, a flame appeared — small, steady, burning above the center of his hand without consuming it.
"Whoa!" I shouted moving out of the way from the flame reflexively.
"What is this father?"
"That," he said calmly, "is what an essencer can do."
I stared at the flame, then at his face, then back at the flame. I opened my own palm many times. But nothing came.
"How did you do that?"
"You can't do that yet," he said. " you don't know how to control mana or energy."
Mana and energy?
He closed his fist and the flame was gone.
"You see, at your age," he said, his voice changing — growing slower, more deliberate — "I wanted to become an essencer more than anything else in the world. I gave years to it. I trained until I could, and when I could, I thought it was everything that I needed, but in the end I got nothing from all this."
I waited.
"Why are you telling me all this father?"
He looked me straight in the eyes, his green eyes stared directly into mine, and in them I could only see responsibility and authority, as if he wasn't my father.
"Because I don't want you to be the same as me, to only have one thing you want in life, that's why I asked you about your plans."
The weight of his gaze was something physical. I could feel my skin tightening, my hands closing slowly around nothing, my mouth going dry.
Who is this man?
"I told you," I said, keeping my voice low. "I don't have plans."
He held my gaze for another few seconds. Then he looked away, back toward the village, and the pressure lifted.
I breathed.
The silence that followed was long and unhurried, settling between us like snow settling on a path—quiet.
"Would you want to become an essencer?" he asked at last.
"An essencer?"
"Yeah, what do you think about that?"
"What is a essencer dad? You mentioned it before with some mana and energy thing. But I don't know what that even is."
"Those are special people who can use the mana and energy in their bodies to enhance their abilities. They can also create things out of nothing, like the fire I showed you a few minutes ago, and it's all possible because of that mana and energy in their bodies."
Interesting.
"I'll tell you more on the way back," he said, rising from the bench. "It's getting cold over here isn't it?"
"Yeah it is," I agreed.
I stood, and we began walking back through the darkening evening toward home.