Morning greeted the village in calm silence. Lilya stood before her simple wooden house, her body wrapped in a casual dress with an off-shoulder cut that rested naturally along her shoulders. The fabric was light, the skirt flared softly and swayed gently in the morning breeze. Her blonde hair was tied back with a pale ribbon—neat, practical—leaving a few loose strands framing her face.

  A small smile formed on Lilya’s lips as she watched villagers passing by. She took a short breath, steadying herself, then stepped down from the threshold and began walking along the village road, still damp with morning dew.

  A few minutes later, her pace slowed when a very familiar voice called out from the side.

  “Lilya.”

  The tone was calm and warm—yet carried the weight of someone accustomed to looking after others.

  “You really can’t stay still at home, can you?” the voice continued, half scolding, half resigned. “And you’ve only just recovered.”

  Lilya turned.

  Cecilia stood in the yard beside the road. Her soft brown hair was neatly tied to one side, a few strands falling naturally near her cheeks. She wore simple yet well-kept village clothing—a practical light blouse paired with a reddish-brown mantle draped loosely over her shoulders. A woven basket hung at her hip, secured by a sturdy leather belt.

  Her expression was calm, as it almost always was—a gentle smile, warm brown eyes that nevertheless remained alert.

  Lilya smiled and walked closer.

  “I told you already, I’m fine now,” she said casually, her tone bright and confident.

  Cecilia glanced at her, then let out a quiet sigh. Her shoulders dropped slightly—a small gesture, noticeable only if one paid close attention.

  “I hope that’s really true,” she replied softly, clearly unconvinced.

  A faint glint appeared in Lilya’s eyes.

  Cecilia caught it instantly.

  “No,” she said flatly.

  “Eh?!” Lilya’s eyes widened. “I haven’t even said anything yet!”

  Cecilia had already started walking down the road, her reddish mantle swaying gently with her steps.

  “You’re planning to come with me to the herb hill, aren’t you?” she said without turning back.

  Lilya quickly followed, walking beside her. “Is that not allowed?” she asked, feigning innocence.

  Cecilia stopped. She turned, her gaze firm but not harsh.

  “Of course not,” she said without hesitation. “You collapsed on that hill. I won’t let something like that happen again.”

  Along the way to the village gate, Lilya continued persuading her. Cecilia refused—firmly at first, then with increasingly frequent sighs. Finally, right before the open gate, Cecilia stopped.

  She closed her eyes for a moment.

  “…Fine.”

  Lilya’s smile instantly blossomed.

  They stepped out of the village. The dirt road stretched toward a low hill, the morning wind carrying the scent of damp soil and leaves. Cecilia’s mantle fluttered lightly, her hand occasionally steadying the basket at her side.

  At the foot of the hill, Cecilia stopped first. She set the basket down and scanned the surroundings—calm, practiced movements, like someone who had done this countless times before.

  She crouched neatly, carefully parting the grass.

  “All right… let’s begin,” she said softly.

  Her lips moved almost soundlessly.

  [Appraisal Open]

  Lilya let out a small breath and nodded inwardly.

  "All right. I’ll start looking too", she thought as she observed the grassy slope dotted with wild plants and low shrubs.

  She remained a few steps behind Cecilia, not moving right away. Her gaze swept across the hill calmly, as if reading an invisible map. Wild grass, low shrubs, damp soil—everything looked ordinary to a villager.

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  But not to Lilya.

  The moment her focus narrowed to a single point, faint translucent text shimmered into view before her eyes, floating neatly as though it were part of the world itself.

  Greenleaf Herb

  Type: Healing Herb (Minor)

  Effect: Restores a small amount of HP

  Condition: Fresh

  Lilya blinked once.

  "This skill is still active… It really feels like seeing through Hikaru’s perspective"

  She didn’t need to say anything. No command was required. [Auto Appraisal] simply worked—quietly, instantly—like a sixth sense always present behind her awareness. Whenever she focused, the world responded.

  "This is far more convenient than checking things one by one", she thought.

  In Eternal Realm Online, skills like this were standard for players—useful, but nothing special. Yet in this world, the ability to read the status of anything without chanting or gestures was abnormal. Even powerful magic users couldn’t maintain such a constantly active passive skill.

  She stepped sideways, scanning another plant.

  Wildroot

  Type: Ingredient

  Effect: None

  Condition: Normal

  She let out a small breath and smiled faintly. “Not this one.”

  Just as she was about to move farther—

  “Lilya.”

  Cecilia’s voice came from behind—not loud, but enough to stop her instantly.

  “Don’t go too far,” she added gently, concern clearly woven into her tone. “Stay where I can see you. I don’t want you pushing yourself.”

  Lilya turned. Cecilia was still crouched, hands busy sorting plants, yet her eyes flicked toward Lilya—quick, watchful, like a guardian who never truly relaxed.

  Lilya raised one hand in acknowledgment.

  “Okay, okay. I get it,” she said lightly.

  Then, with a slightly mischievous smile, she added, “You really are overprotective, Cecilia.”

  Cecilia didn’t respond immediately. Only a soft sigh followed.

  “If that keeps you safe, I don’t mind,” she replied simply, returning to her work.

  Lilya chuckled quietly.

  Still, her steps slowed. She stayed within Cecilia’s line of sight, moving along the nearer side of the hill while letting [Auto Appraisal] do its work.

  And then—

  She stopped.

  Behind a low shrub grew a cluster of plants with slender green leaves, faint bluish veins shimmering softly in the morning light. They looked far healthier than the surrounding vegetation.

  Azure Dewleaf

  Type: Mana Recovery Herb (Minor)

  Effect: Restores a small amount of MP

  Condition: Excellent

  Lilya’s eyes lit up.

  “Oh… there you are.”

  She crouched slowly, careful not to damage the roots. Her fingers gently parted the leaves, selecting the healthiest stems and plucking them one by one.

  “This plant rarely grows this close to the hill’s edge,” she murmured to herself. “We usually have to search deeper.”

  She lifted part of her skirt, forming a simple pouch, and placed the harvested leaves inside. The light fabric cradled the herbs securely, swaying gently with her movements—practical, natural, as if her body and clothing were made for simple work like this.

  Still crouched, she shifted her gaze again. Her focus sharpened—and the world responded.

  Several translucent texts appeared and vanished in turn; some dismissed instantly, others made her pause to evaluate.

  "Hikaru…" she thought, a small smile at her lips. "I really should thank you for leaving me this skill."

  Her hands continued working.

  "Even though that status screen yesterday… really shocked me."

  She let out a quiet breath and refocused. For now, it was enough to know the ability existed—and that she could use it.

  A few steps behind her, Cecilia stood again. She wiped a thin sheen of sweat from her temple with the back of her hand and glanced at her basket. It wasn’t full, but sufficient for a short trip.

  Her gaze shifted to Lilya.

  The blonde girl remained within sight, crouched calmly, moving carefully, showing no signs of dizziness or fatigue. Still, Cecilia did not relax. Her eyes followed every subtle change—any pause that lasted too long, any slight tension in Lilya’s shoulders.

  "All right", Cecilia thought. "I’ll search elsewhere."

  She tightened her grip on the basket and moved away with steady, measured steps, heading toward a slightly higher part of the hill where the grass thinned and the soil grew drier. Her mantle swayed gently as she walked, her back gradually moving farther from Lilya—yet still close enough to return quickly if needed.

  Time passed unnoticed.

  The cool air slowly warmed.

  Lilya stopped and looked up. The sun had climbed higher, its light filtering through leaves and reflecting off the damp grass, forcing her to squint.

  “…So bright,” she murmured.

  She exhaled softly.

  "I should stop here", she thought. "If not, I’ll overdo it. There are too many good plants."

  She lifted the skirt she’d been using as a pouch. The herbs inside pressed together—far more than she’d intended to gather.

  Lilya stood and adjusted her grip so nothing would fall.

  But as she took one step—

  She froze.

  Her brows knit slightly.

  “…Wait… this feels…”

  Her gaze swept the surroundings. The slope felt different now. Taller grass. Denser shrubs. And ahead—darker, thicker tree lines.

  Her eyes widened slightly.

  “…I’ve gone too far.”

  Her heart skipped a beat.

  This was no longer the area she’d promised Cecilia. One step after another, drawn by “interesting” plants, had led her to the edge of the forest. Tall trees loomed before her, their shadows stretching long. The air was cooler, damper, carrying the scent of old earth and thick leaves.

  Lilya swallowed.

  "If Cecilia finds out…"

  She could picture it clearly—slightly lowered brows, a vanished smile, a calm voice colder than usual.

  "…I’ll really get scolded."

  She turned slowly, checking the direction back to the hill, tightened her grip on her skirt, and drew a deep breath.

  “All right. Back now,” she resolved. “Quickly—before Cecilia notices.”

  On the other side of the hill, Cecilia finished her last harvest. She stood slowly, relaxed her shoulders slightly, and secured the now-full basket at her hip. Sunlight warmed the slope as she looked toward where Lilya should be.

  “Lilya, let’s head back,” she called calmly.

  No response.

  Only grass swayed gently. The hill stood empty. Cecilia’s brow furrowed. She scanned the area—left, right—but found no trace of the blonde girl.

  “Lilya… where did you go now?” she thought.

  Without hesitation, she adjusted the basket and moved in the direction Lilya was most likely to have taken.

  She would not let anything happen to her.

  Cecilia walked farther from the hill. Grass gave way to dense shrubs, the ground growing damp and uneven. Her steps were calm and controlled, but her vigilance rose—not from intuition, but from silence.

  The wind still blew. Leaves still moved. But there were no small sounds—no insects, no birds, no rustling of animals.

  Cecilia stopped.

  Her hand relaxed at her side, her breathing steady. Her eyes scanned the area—slowly, carefully. She knew nature. And she knew this kind of silence was never a good sign.

  From behind the shrubs to her left, a pair of small eyes peeked out.

  Then another.

  And another.

  Within the dull leaves and tangled branches, small shadows shifted. Short bodies with dull green skin crouched low, signaling silently to one another. Rough hands gripped short spears, stone knives, and wooden clubs.

  Twenty goblins.

  They didn’t attack.

  Not yet.

  They waited.

  Cecilia stepped forward, slower now. Her mantle barely rustled. The heavy basket remained at her hip. She didn’t turn around. She didn’t speed up. Panic would only worsen things.

  The distance grew.

  The hill was now far behind. Tall trees surrounded the area, sunlight breaking through leaves and casting long shadows.

  That was when it happened.

  A small stone flew from the side and struck the ground near her feet.

  Cecilia stopped.

  The next moment, a hoarse shout shattered the silence.

  Goblins burst from hiding all at once—filling her vision from left, right, and front. Their movements were low, fast, chaotic—yet coordinated. Spears thrust forward. Knives raised.

  Cecilia turned halfway, the basket slipping from her hip and falling to the ground.

  Back at the hill, Lilya returned at a faster pace. Her breathing was steady, yet something felt wrong the moment her feet touched the area where they had parted. Cecilia was nowhere to be seen. The grass still swayed gently. The hill was quiet—too quiet.

  Unease crept into her chest.

  Lilya stopped. Her fingers loosened, and the herbs she’d gathered spilled from her skirt onto the ground without her noticing.

  She turned sharply, searching in all directions.

  Nothing.

  Her gaze finally fixed on the path leading toward the forest. Her lips parted.

  “She didn’t… go that way to look for me, did she?” she whispered, more a prayer than a question.

  Holding onto a fragile hope that Cecilia was safe, Lilya headed in that direction.

  A few steps later, she stopped abruptly.

  Ahead lay Cecilia’s woven basket—tipped over, part of its frame broken, herbs scattered across the damp ground.

  Lilya’s heart sank.

  Her eyes dropped lower, catching small footprints around it—too small for adults. Too sharp for children.

  An image from the village library’s old, tattered encyclopedia flashed in her mind—the shape of those footprints, their spacing.

  Goblins.

  "Wait… seriously? Cecilia? Goblins?" she thought.