"What's that human's name?"
Solitar tapped the markings on her hand, replaying the recent voice recording.
She didn't understand the language, but based on her knowledge of humans and the tone of voice, she could infer a few things.
What she had initially dismissed as a boring, pretty-feathered bird was turning out to be a little interesting.
"'Shoko', that's the pronunciation."
Ait, seated on the bed gently cradling her child, answered respectfully.
"Strange name… So, how long until she can hold a basic conversation?" The demon woman asked, with evident anticipation.
Ait hesitated. "Approximately… less than a month."
"Grammar?"
"Three to four months."
"What about reading this book?"
She gestured, and a thick tome flew into her hand. The cover, written in the common imperial language, read Fundamentals of Magical Theory.
Ait carefully caught the book, skimmed a few lines, and flipped through some pages to confirm.
"To fully understand it… at least a year. The phrasing is ancient, the style very convoluted."
"It was written over a thousand years ago."
Solitar ran a hand over the book's surface and praised it:
"A student of the great mage Vramay compiled and edited this. Even now, it remains one of the best introductory texts. Its explanations are concise and elegant, no bloated, self-important nonsense. Humans are… quite remarkable, aren't they?"
Ait didn't respond. She knew demons rarely showed anger, but she still instinctively avoided sensitive topics like this.
In her heart, all she could feel was sorrow, that such brilliant works of human wisdom and civilization had fallen into the hands of monsters.
As for the two students she was teaching… were they even still human? She wasn't sure anymore.
"Well then, you still have plenty of time left."
Solitar set the book aside and turned to leave.
"If you're interested, you should study it too. Vramay's vision was that everyone should be free to learn magic. If that ever comes true, surely it would give rise to even more fascinating magic. I believe it'd be good for both humans and demons."
Unlike many of her kind, Solitar didn't view humans learning magic as "theft" or "parasitism."
Quite the opposite, the more she learned, the more she admired the ingenuity behind human spellcraft.
Time and time again, it had surprised and inspired her.
Like just yesterday, she hadn't known water manipulation could be used to wash clothes.
Let them keep creating.
Solitar left without a sound, courteously closing the door behind her.
The room dimmed slightly. Ait looked wistful as she put the book aside and held her child close.
She hoped the child would grow quickly, old enough to say "Mama," old enough to remember her...
And yet, she also wished she'd stay dull, so she wouldn't remember anything at all. If she didn't remember, maybe she could stay longer. Maybe Ait could see her smile a little more.
Two years. That was the limit. By three, a child could already start remembering things. Even if they might forget later... the risk would already be there.
This demon was the cautious kind, the kind who stood and watched the corpses being devoured before she walked away. She'd never allow a loose end.
…
Ryo Nagasaki reflected on Shoko's expression and tone earlier.
She had looked exhausted.
Today's lesson had gone by fast. Ryo hadn't even grasped the basics yet, while Shoko was already comprehending abstract words with ease.
Looking back, he realized it didn't make sense. In the process of learning a new language, the first step wasn't memorization, it was understanding.
And no one can understand something they fundamentally don't comprehend.
Shoko had exhibited a level of comprehension far beyond normal, and now, it was clear. It was taking a heavy toll on her body.
If he confronted her directly, she would definitely just say: "I'm fine." "Leave it to me."
If this went on, she'd burn out.
Ryo flipped through his adventurer's card, piecing together the words he needed.
…
Bedtime came.
After dinner and a bath, Shoko felt a bit more energized. Tomorrow, she could increase her study intensity again.
Back in their room, she looked up at her top bunk and quietly wished she could fly.
Getting up there was a little awkward.
There was a bench beside the bed. The proper young lady sat down first, neatly took off her shoes, and then stepped barefoot onto the bench. She gripped the bedframe and, somewhat ungracefully, climbed up.
Shoko knew her teammate wouldn't look up… but she was still embarrassed.
Ryo, lying on the bottom bunk with his back to the outside, didn't see her snow-white calves, smooth and delicate like piano keys.
He didn't see her pale feet dangling down, her soft, pink toenails round like cherry blossoms, their tenderness offset by the faint blue veins along her instep and the slender curve of her heel.
They looked thin, graceful, just like Shoko herself. One couldn't help but imagine that, like their owner, they too must be stubborn.
Of course, Ryo missed all that. He was just thinking about building a small ladder from scrap wood tomorrow.
Minor details could wait. The important thing now was to stop his teammate from pushing herself too hard.
He'd already seen through this prideful young lady's temperament. In his past life, he'd been observant. It hadn't taken long to find a matching personality template.
Judging from Shoko's demeanor, and that slightly faded satin ribbon, her family had likely fallen into misfortune.
When the mind was shaken, concern from others could be misinterpreted as condescension. Warmth from past relationships would now feel like flames licking at old wounds, the contrast between ideals and reality a constant torment.
Like a hedgehog, easily startled, hiding her soft parts and raising her quills at the slightest touch.
Pride was like an umbrella, shielding her from the rain, but also blocking the kindness around her. In the end, she'd walk alone into a dead end.
He pitied people like that, but in truth, he had found most of them annoying. After all, unless you were family, who wanted to deal with someone constantly on edge?
Thankfully, his teammate wasn't that extreme. Since their first meeting, she'd maintained a level of grace and courtesy.
Her friends and family were gone. Only he remained to communicate with her.
These past few nights, they'd always exchanged a few words before bed.
Whether it was serious matters, idle talk, or simply venting worries, humans needed someone to talk to.
Ryo lay quietly and floated his card upward.
[How are you feeling?]
Shoko's reply drifted down, much slower than usual.
[Not especially difficult. At least, not yet.]
[You're learning fast. At this rate, you'll probably master it in under a year.]
[I think so.]
[Then… what will happen to Ms. Ait?]
It was something Ryo had been wondering since he first saw her.
Shoko hesitated.
[Shoko, you're learning too fast.]
[It's necessary… for survival.]
[If it's just survival, there's no need to push so hard.]
There was a pause.
The hedgehog raised its spines.
[Ryo, can you accept living like this? Being watched even while you sleep? I can't. I refuse to live like a pet!]
The emotion was intense.
[Shoko, calm down. At least for now, in this world… we're the only ones who can understand each other.]
Shoko stared at her card in silence.
[I'm sorry, Ryo.]
The girl rolled onto her side, staring at the lower bunk.
Ryo quietly stared at the wooden slats above him.
They were the only two people in this world who truly understood one another.