Feto and Shana kissed.

Beneath the oak in Reflection Village, as the witch applied medicine to the guard's injured right arm, he pulled her into his arms, and they lost themselves in a long, passionate kiss.

She smells so good!

Feto ran his fingertips over his lips, savoring the lingering scent of roses and mandalas in his mouth—it was intoxicating.

"What are you grinning about?!" His daydream of sweet memories was interrupted by the sound of his sweetheart's voice beside him.

"Cough, cough." Feto quickly dropped his hand, then teased, "I-I was thinking about you."

Shana blinked, then lowered her head, a shy blush spreading across her snow-white cheeks like rouge on porcelain.

She's so beautiful!

The witch's bashful expression stirred desire in Feto. He tugged on the reins, pulling his draft horse closer to her, eager to kiss her rosy lips again.

Just as he leaned in, the draft horse let out a high-pitched whinny, rearing up on its front hooves and yanking Feto off course, pulling him away from the witch.

What's wrong with this beast!

Feto was annoyed by the sudden interruption. He pulled hard on the reins, only to realize everyone ahead had turned to look at him.

He felt sheepish. After all, the Frostwall Legion was in full retreat, and here he was, thinking about flirting—it was hardly appropriate.

"Draft horses are useless! Warhorses are way better to ride!" Feto pretended to scold the horse, rubbing its neck to play it cool.

Shana beside him was laughing, her eyes sparkling with amusement as if she'd seen right through him, but she said nothing, her gaze still tinged with shyness.

"Hang in there! Once we reach Awakening City, we can switch to warhorses!" the Rat Knight called from the front.

"Fine, I guess I have to." Feto sighed, putting on a helpless face. "I really can't get used to draft horses."

Deep down, Feto was grateful to the Golden Knights—if they hadn't prepared horses in Reflection Village, the entire Frostwall Legion would be walking right now.

It's okay that they're slow, but it'd be nice if they had some sense of romance.

After that little incident, the guard and the witch rode side by side again, intentionally falling to the back of the column, their understanding unspoken.

Feto's unfulfilled desire sparked a new idea: why not yank Shana onto his horse and ride together?

But the thought shocked even him. He immediately realized how bold it was.

How could I do that? My brothers and the Golden Knights are all around! When did I get so reckless?

"Feto, does your arm feel better?" Shana asked, her voice soft with concern.

"Huh? Oh, it's fine, haha—completely fine!" Feto waved his right arm back and forth, grinning from ear to ear. "Your potion is magic! My arm's fully healed, don't worry! Hahaha—" Even though his arm ached faintly, he pretended nothing was wrong.

"Is it really that magical? I just picked star dew grass and nightshade vine from the bushes outside Reflection Village and made a simple tincture. It helps with healing and detox, but without time blossom, it shouldn't work that fast. You're recovering way too quickly." Shana smiled.

"Cough, cough." Feto felt awkward. "Maybe I'm just strong! You know, soldiers heal faster than regular folks. Hahaha—"

"That's a shame. I should've used less medicine if I'd known."

"Why?" Feto blinked.

The witch leaned in suddenly, her mandala-scented breath washing over him. "You're healing so fast. What if you yank me onto your horse? I'd be trapped with no way to escape!"

Feto's ears burned as she guessed his thoughts again, but his heart fluttered with excitement. He laughed loudly. "Wait and see! Once I'm fully healed, I'll tie you up like a dumpling and strap you to the horse! Hahaha—"

The guard and witch laughed together, startling birds from the trees lining the path and making their companions ahead turn to look again. They realized their giddiness and stopped laughing immediately.

"Shush!" Shana pressed a finger to her lips. "Be serious—we're on the run!"

Feto covered his mouth with the back of his hand, nodding repeatedly, but the corners of his eyes still crinkled with leftover laughter.

"Stop messing around! We don't want to make everyone mad." Shana took a few deep breaths to calm down.

"Okay, okay, I'll try to stay serious."

After a brief silence, the witch said, "Feto, can I ask you something serious?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"Where did Orek go?"

Feto's smile vanished instantly.

The boss had gone missing since noon the day before.

Everyone was eating in Reflection Village while Feto helped Shana brew herbs. When they gathered in the afternoon, Orek was gone. Lady Lei had held up the black iron badge and announced she was taking command of the Frostwall Legion again, saying the Seer had left early on a special mission.

Everyone was stunned—everyone except Feto, who'd stayed calm.

He remembered the night before the battle, when Orek had asked him to be "another pair of eyes to see through the fog." The boss had told him then that he'd leave the Legion temporarily, so Feto had been prepared for this.

Now that Shana asked, Feto could be honest about most things—but not this.

"Uh… when the boss is on a special mission, he hides his whereabouts from everyone, even his closest men. So I don't know either." Seeing the witch's confused look, he added, "And you know, ever since I talked back to him that day, we haven't been as close as before."

"Alright." Shana frowned. "Never mind where he went, but didn't he have a falling-out with Lei? Why did he give her the black iron badge? Isn't the old scholar the second-in-command? Why doesn't Orek ever give it to him?"

Feto couldn't answer these questions either.

He'd noticed the secret relationship between the boss and Lei, and he'd sensed the subtle tension between the Commander and the scholar. But Feto hated political intrigue; he never bothered to figure out these things. Even as the Commander's bodyguard, he didn't understand Orek's true thoughts.

Wasn't chasing women and dueling way more exciting than all this annoying backstabbing?

So he mumbled, "Uh… the boss must have his reasons."

"Do you think Orek could be that mole?" Shana asked suddenly.

Feto jolted—those words felt like an ice pick driving into his bones, making his whole body shiver.

Why would she say that?

When he saw how serious Shana looked, he realized she wasn't joking.

---

*Notes:*

- Draft Horse: Excels at slow riding. Not as tall or sturdy as warhorses; unsuitable for charging or jousting.

- Warhorse: Sleek, strong, and robust. Ideal for battle, hunting, and jousting—favored by knights.