Volume 2 : Between Light and Dark
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Two years later.
Inside Dusk's home, the faint scent of herbs and smoke hung in the air. A small wooden pot sat bubbling on the table, faint pink foam rising from the top.
"Colorless, water-soluble substance…" a young voice muttered seriously.
Behind the pot, a pair of bunny ears twitched up and down.
"In which universe is this colorless?" The girl grumbled. She stirred the liquid with a wooden spoon, frowning at the swirling pink-and-green mess that gurgled like it was laughing at her.
She squinted closer. "Maybe if I stir it faster—"
BOOM!
The pot cracked apart with a loud pop, releasing a puff of thick pink smoke that spread across the room.
"Uwaah!"
When the smoke cleared, a small figure stood frozen, her cheeks and forehead dyed pink. Her bunny ears drooped miserably.
"That's another failure…" Dawn mumbled, coughing and fanning the air with her hand. "Ahh, it's over… That was the last ingredient!"
She sat down with a small thud on the wooden chair, shoulders slumped. For a moment, she simply pouted, staring at the faintly smoking table like it had personally betrayed her.
After a long sigh, she said to herself, "It's fine… I'll try again. Just need to practice more."
She got up, brushing the dust off her dress. Her reflection in the tiny mirror by the window showed a pink-faced girl with streaks of flour on her cheeks. She made a funny face at herself and giggled a little despite the mess.
"Next time, I'll make it right," she declared firmly. "Even if it explodes again."
She splashed some cold water on her face, wiped her cheeks with a cloth, and took out a small mud bottle. The liquid inside shimmered faintly under the sunlight.
It was one of her earliest "creations" — made from the sumac plant. She called it her safety potion, even though she knew it wasn't one. The plant caused itching so bad that touching it once had left her arm swollen and red for weeks.
That time, Dusk had rushed her to the church, his face pale with worry. He had begged a priest to use low heal, even though it cost them four Thales. The priest had scolded them for "fooling around with strange plants," but still helped after seeing Dusk's desperate face.
Whenever she thought of it, Dawn still felt bad — but a little proud too. "At least it worked… kind of," she whispered.
The sunlight through the window was already bright. Taking her small basket, she said softly to the empty house, "I'll be back soon!" and hurried outside.
The morning air was fresh and cool. The streets of Ram City were alive with chatter — vendors shouting prices, carts creaking, and the smell of roasted nuts and baked bread filling the lanes.
Dawn hummed as she walked. Her small steps bounced lightly on the cobblestone road.
She passed by groups of workers carrying crates, some older boys hauling barrels, and others sweeping the marketplace. They all looked busy, and Dawn thought for a moment how hardworking everyone was.
"Dawn!"
She turned. A wolf-eared boy waved from across the street, grinning brightly.
"Oh, Woofy!" Dawn waved back, the tail of her ribbon fluttering.
Woofy jogged up to her, slightly out of breath. "Hey! Are you going to see your brother?"
"Mhm," she nodded, "but first I'm going to buy some things."
"I'm going that way too," Woofy said quickly. "Let's go together?"
Before she could answer, a group of slum kids shouted from nearby. "Big Bro Woofy! You still have work!"
Woofy looked back nervously. "I'll come back soon!"
"Big Bro's skipping again!" one of them teased.
Ever since the ginseng incident two years ago, Woofy had become something like a "big bro" among the slum kids. They admired him for being brave enough to climb a dangerous mountain.
Dawn giggled at the sight. "You really are like their big brother now."
Woofy scratched his head, embarrassed. "Ahaha… maybe."
"I'll go first then," Dawn said, stepping away. "See you later!"
"Wait, I—"
But she was already gone, skipping down a side street with her little basket.
The further she walked, the quieter the streets became.
This part of the market was almost deserted, except for a few old stalls covered in dust. Faded herbs, dried mushrooms, and wrinkled roots were laid out for sale. The air smelled like old wood and spice.
Dawn looked around carefully, whispering to herself, "Okay, I need something dry but not rotten… maybe this one."
She picked a few small items — dried flowers, bark, and something that might've been a mushroom long ago — and placed them in her basket.
The old lady at the counter didn't speak, only nodded as Dawn placed a few Fins on the table.
Behind her, two men sitting near a wine shop whispered and laughed.
"Heh, that girl's buying those old herbs," one said. "You know what people say about those, right?"
"Yeah, they say men use them for, uh, boosting their energy."
"Poor kid probably has no idea what she's buying," the third man laughed.
Dawn's ears twitched. She didn't understand what they meant, but she didn't like their tone. Hugging her basket close, she puffed her cheeks and walked faster.
"I bet they don't even know what colorless substance means!" she mumbled under her breath.
She hurried through the back lanes, taking a different path home to avoid bumping into Woofy again. Her heart still raced from the embarrassment of people laughing behind her, but she told herself she'd forget it soon.
"Big Brother's going to scold me if he finds out I sneaked out again," she said, breaking into a small run.
It was already noon, and many people stood at the church square, the sun shining softly on their shoulders.
Two men carried a large food container to the courtyard, and the smell of hot stew spread through the air.
The crowd quieted as a boy arrived, placed a small wooden stool beside the pot, climbed on it, and took the ladle in his hand.
"Let's start, then."
Dusk smiled warmly and began serving.
The people lining up smiled back. Many of them knew him — the kind boy who always gave a little more food, even when he wasn't supposed to.
"Is this enough?" Dusk asked gently as he filled a bowl.
"Yes… thank you so much," the little girl replied, eyes soft.
"Don't thank me," Dusk said with his usual smile. "Thank the Radiant God."
People chuckled quietly at his modesty.
The little girl blushed at his smile.
Two years had passed, and Dusk had grown — not just in height but in spirit. His face was sharper now, but his expression still carried the same gentle calm. He looked healthier, stronger.
His sister, however, still looked thin, partly because she spent so much time working on strange mixtures instead of eating properly. But Dusk never complained. He only reminded her to be careful and not to draw attention.
Once, she had nearly gotten into trouble with some ruffians on the street. They had cornered her, and she'd nearly used one of her "potions" in panic. Luckily, the guards had arrived before anything happened. After that, Dusk had scolded her so much that she cried for half a day.
Now, watching the people eat peacefully, he felt content.
When his work ended, Dusk washed the ladle and pot, then waved goodbye to the helpers. He also carried some leftover vegetables.
As he walked down the narrow stone road toward Hector's office, he paused.
Something faint shimmered in the corner of his eye — a thin red thread, glowing faintly in the sunlight.
It stretched from the roadside, flickering gently like it was calling him.
Dusk followed it quietly, his footsteps slow.
The thread ended at a small piece of cloth lying beside the road.
Dusk bent down and picked it up. It was soft — smooth silk with gold embroidery. A noble's handkerchief.
He blinked in surprise. "This looks expensive…"
Running his fingers over the fabric, he thought, This could sell for at least two Thales.
Woofy had to climb a mountain to earn that much, and here Dusk just picked it up.
Two years ago, at Lightfall Mountain, everything had changed. Since then, Dusk could see strange, invisible threads appearing in the air — sometimes faint, sometimes bright.
He never told anyone, not even Dawn nor his teacher, Lock.
He had seen only three colors so far:
Black threads — which always meant danger.
Red threads — which led to small bits of luck.
And orange — which appeared once, then never again.
He didn't understand them, but he was able to learn about them.
Once, he saw black threads tied to a child playing in the street. One of the threads ran straight to the road.
Something felt wrong. Without thinking, Dusk grabbed the child and pulled him back.
A heartbeat later, a noble's horse galloped past, wheels kicking dust. If he hadn't moved the child, the boy would've been crushed.
That day, the child's mother cried and thanked him, but Dusk said nothing. He simply smiled and walked away.
Now, he stood at the roadside again, watching the red thread stretch somewhere ahead.
He didn't know what these threads truly were or why he could see them.
But he followed the red thread connected to the silk cloth in his hand toward the street.
He folded the handkerchief neatly and slipped it into his pocket. Then, with a faint smile, he continued walking — unaware that fate itself was already weaving something new around him.
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Here is a reminder:
| **Coin** | **Value** |
|-----------|-------------------------|
| 1 Diane | = 20 Thales = 400 Fins |
| 1 Thale | = 20 Fins |