“This is…”
Letier’s eyes sparkled as she took in the scene before her.
A single tree, its branches heavy with glowing blue fruit, swayed gently in the morning breeze.
Bathed in the golden sunlight, the fruit shimmered temptingly.
“I spotted it while looking around. They look like Phoebe berries to me.”
Dante tapped one of the hanging blue fruits at his eye level.
Letier stepped closer, examining the fruit he was touching.
“I think you’re right. It matches the description from my books exactly. I never expected a Phoebe tree to be growing here!”
The Phoebe tree was as much a legend as the Forest of Memories itself.
It was said to only grow in a few remote regions far beyond the Trillante Empire, making its fruit extremely rare.
There was even a story that its flavor was so incredible that it could bring the dead back to life.
“…It smells surprisingly ordinary.”
Letier leaned in and sniffed the fruit.
Dante immediately pulled her back.
“Be careful. We don’t know if this fruit has been affected by the magical creatures in this forest.”
“But if we pick it… will it trigger some kind of defense mechanism again? Like last time?”
“There’s no way to know.”
Dante glanced around warily.
There were no visible signs of aggressive plants nearby.
Letier stared longingly at the abundant Phoebe berries.
“Ugh… Leaving behind such a valuable ingredient feels like a waste.”
“…You’re really just thinking of it as a cosmetic ingredient?”
Dante looked at her in disbelief.
Letier simply shrugged, still staring at the berries in regret before finally turning away.
“Let’s go.”
Behind her, Dante called out.
“…Are you sure you don’t want them?”
“I really want them. But if we pick even one and end up triggering another magical plant attack, we’ll be in serious trouble. We don’t have any mages or knights with us this time…”
Dante quietly watched her retreating figure, her golden hair swaying as she walked away.
Then, after a brief pause, he glanced up at the tree one last time.
The sunlight filtering through the leaves was almost blinding.
Shielding his eyes with one hand, he stood still for a moment before turning and following after her.
“…Alright, then.”
Leaving the Phoebe tree behind, they resumed their journey toward the rising smoke.
“At this pace, we should reach the western outpost by midday.”
Boom!
A sudden explosion echoed in the distance.
Dante instinctively stepped in front of Letier, shielding her.
She clutched his sleeve, her voice uneasy.
“…Your Highness…”
Dante frowned, his gaze locked on the source of the explosion.
“What magical creatures have fire attributes?”
“Gogon, Salamanda, Suruthos, Kasa…””
Letier quickly listed them while moving closer behind him.
None of those creatures were easy to deal with.
She tried to imagine how a fire-attribute magical plant might have evolved—her eyes fixated on the growing flames ahead.
Another explosion erupted, this time much closer.
“…What is that?”
The fire, which had been a distant flicker, was growing rapidly.
It burst forth with a boom from one side, then another, as if leaping across the landscape—getting closer with each jump.
“Your Highness… something isn’t right.”
“What?”
“Plants don’t move like that. Even with tendrils, there are limits. But this is too fast—”
As realization dawned on Dante, a small smirk played on his lips.
“…I think I know what it is.”
“What?! What is it?! No—wait, never mind! It’s already too close! Shouldn’t we run?!”
“There’s no need.”
Dante straightened, relaxing his stance.
Letier gawked at him.
They were in the middle of something dangerous, and yet the prince stood there, completely unfazed.
Another explosion roared, sending a blast of hot wind toward them.
Without hesitation, Dante pulled Letier into his arms, shielding her from the heat.
As the warmth settled, Letier suddenly recognized the familiar energy in the air.
“…This isn’t a magical plant.”
“No.”
As the wind died down, Letier brushed her disheveled hair back into place.
Figures were approaching from the direction of the explosion.
As she scanned the incoming group, relief flooded her expression—only to turn into panic.
“This isn’t the time for that!”
Startled, she pushed herself out of Dante’s arms.
He looked down at her in confusion, his handsome face still completely exposed.
Letier gasped, immediately turning away.
She grabbed a large leaf that had blown toward them in the wind.
Then, pressing her thumb against it, she quickly poked two small, round holes.
“…You cannot be serious.”
Dante’s voice was filled with disbelief.
“This is the only option we have!”
Letier turned, shoving the makeshift mask toward him.
“Here! Hurry up and wear it!”
“This is ridiculous.”
“Just put it on!”
Dante stared at the crude, hole-ridden leaf fluttering in her grasp.
The leaf itself wasn’t even clean.
“…I am a prince, you know.”
“Yes, and as the prince, isn’t it better to wear this ridiculous thing than to get caught doing something reckless?!”
Dante scowled, glancing back toward the approaching figures.
As the smoke cleared, it became obvious.
Their rescue team had arrived.
Leading a group of heavily armed knights, Wendy, Walter, and the water mage—the ones responsible for the explosions—strode toward them with confidence.
“…Just give it to me.”
Dante snatched the dirty leaf from Letier’s hands and pressed it to his face.
Taking the chance, Letier quickly grabbed some dry vines from the ground and wrapped them around his head.
“…That hurts.”
“Sorry, but we don’t have time!”
“I probably look ridiculous.”
“Well… it’s passable.”
“You just hesitated.”
“Letier!”
A familiar voice called out.
Wendy had finally reached them, her expression filled with concern.
Letier quickly released Dante’s makeshift mask and waved.
“Wendy! Over here!”
“Are you okay? You’re not hurt anywhere, right?”
Wendy rushed forward, grabbing Letier’s arms and spinning her around to check for injuries.
Letier glanced sideways at Dante, who was still adjusting his disguise.
“…I’m fine. The protection spell helped.”
“Oh, thank goodness! But he looks like he’s been through hell!”
Wendy turned toward Dante, her eyes widening at the sight of his tattered clothes, bruises, and… whatever mess was on his face.
His outfit was torn, dirty, and barely holding together—he looked one step away from being mistaken for a beggar.
Dante, as unfazed as ever, simply shrugged.
“I got a little scraped up when we fell.”
“…A little?”
“This isn’t the time to argue. Let’s get moving! At least we found you faster than expected.”
Grabbing Letier’s hand, Wendy pulled her forward.
“Here, drink some water.”
The knights handed them water and small food rations as they began their journey toward the western outpost.
After a while, Wendy, who had been hesitating beside Letier, finally spoke up.
“Letier… I want to apologize.”
“Huh? For what?”
Letier, still chewing on a sweet fruit, turned to her in confusion.
Apologize?
Wendy lowered her gaze, looking genuinely remorseful.
“Because of Walter and me… you fell off the cliff.”
“What? No! You were just trying to take down the magic plant—”
“We messed up, and you could’ve died. Walter feels terrible about it.”
Wendy gestured toward Walter, who was walking slightly apart from the group, stealing guilty glances in their direction.
Letier quickly waved her hands.
“I never blamed you for that. And besides, you found us so quickly.”
“…Still, I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay, really.”
Letier patted Wendy’s arm with a reassuring smile.
Wendy returned a small, relieved smile before suddenly tilting her head toward Dante.
“…By the way, what happened to his mask? Why is he covering his face with that?”
“Oh! Um… he lost it when we fell.”
“Huh… does he really have to cover his face like that? Does he have some kind of terrible scar?”
Letier stiffened.
Wendy was too sharp sometimes.
The water mage, overhearing the conversation, rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“Now that you mention it… doesn’t that remind you of Prince Dante? I mean, the prince is always covering his face because of that horrible skin disease.”
“…That’s true.”
Oh no. Oh no.
The moment the prince’s name came up, Letier’s whole body tensed.
Before she could stop her, Wendy leaned in and whispered,
“Letier… did you see his face?”
“…Wh-what?”
“Don’t you wonder why he’s covering it up so much? It’s suspicious, right?”
Letier swallowed hard and looked at Dante’s back.
She was horrible at lying.
She hesitated before mumbling,
“Well… I did see it…”
Wendy’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.
“And? What does he look like?”
Oh no, oh no, oh no.
Letier’s eyes darted between Dante and Wendy.
She needed to say something—but what?!
Wendy smirked.
“…Should I just pull off that pathetic excuse of a mask myself? I mean, it looks terribly flimsy.”
She reached toward Dante.
“Wait!”
Panicked, Letier grabbed Wendy’s wrist.
Wendy turned, raising a brow.
Letier felt sweat trickle down her back.
She bit her lip, clenched her fists, and then—
To hell with it!
“…He’s hideous! Absolutely hideous!”
