Fairy Tail: Kyoka Suigetsu

**I got NTRed**

[The Illusion of Affection]

Seriously?

To be perfectly honest, I'm not entirely sure how to process this right now. I'm no stranger to the concept of NTR, or *netorare*.

What exactly does NTR mean? It's simple, really: cheating, an affair while in a relationship, the betrayal of trust by someone you thought was yours.

But what do I feel about it? That's the question. I've been hoodwinked before, tricked into reading a manhwa steeped in hardcore NTR during my previous life. And yet, I never quite understood why people would feel such intense emotions about it. Do I sympathize with the characters? Not really.

For me, it's more like a god-like vantage point—an omniscient observer looking down at the tangled mess of emotions and affairs. It's akin to reading someone's diary, or how Rohan could peer into people's lives, extracting secrets as though they were nothing more than easily attainable knowledge.

The strange thing is, despite the betrayal laid bare on the pages, I didn't feel disgust. No, not disgust—what I felt was something colder, something more distant, almost like a bone-chilling experience. I wasn't terrified, not really. But the NTR, it was like a cold wind, brushing against my skin, making me shiver. That's all it was. Nothing more, nothing less.

****

**Hibiscus Village**

A boy, no older than nine, stood with quiet composure at the outskirts of Hibiscus Village. His attire, an all-black ensemble—save for a pristine white scarf—seemed to blend with the somber stillness of the surrounding landscape. His eyes, the color of a crisp winter sky, gleamed with a silver luminescence as they fixed upon the looming entrance gate. A soft breeze tousled his silky, raven-black hair, which cascaded in smooth waves, rippling like the still waters of an untouched lake. Resting just at his waist, hidden beneath the folds of his cloak, was a white katana—its presence unnoticed by most, save for the boy himself.

"I finally arrived."

The journey here had been neither hurried nor slow, a steady pace that brought him across landscapes untouched by time. Yet in comparison to the blistering speed of a bullet train, this old-fashioned mode of transport seemed almost cruelly sluggish—like a tortoise in a race against a bullet. Still, it had carried him to this place, and for now, that was enough.

"Now then, I suppose I should head to the commissioner?" he muttered to himself, his words barely more than a whisper on the wind as he began his measured, deliberate walk toward a certain address.

*The client's request is simple: eliminate the invading bandits here in Hibiscus Village. Though, I can't help but think... this village does indeed resemble a Hibiscus in its design.*

As he moved further into the village, his gaze was drawn to the grand fountain that sat at the heart of it all. The fountain, majestic and shimmering under the golden sunlight, was encircled by land that rose like the gentle undulation of distant mountains. Above, the village homes clung to the hillside, their roofs dotted with the patchwork of vibrant flowers that dotted the landscape. It was as if the very earth had been painted in hues of pink, purple, and white, wrapping the village in the delicate embrace of nature's finest blooms.

*It's no wonder this place is named after a flower. After all, the lands near the Kingdom of Fiore are renowned for their botanical beauty. The name Fiore itself... it means 'flower' for a reason.*

Yet, for all the village's picturesque charm, there was a palpable heaviness that hung in the air. The residents, each of them moving about their daily lives, wore faces etched with an unmistakable sense of worry. Some tried to mask it with friendly, welcoming smiles, but those smiles never reached their eyes—eyes that betrayed the silent panic seething just beneath the surface.

*Are they truly that afraid of the bandits?* The thought lingered, uncertain and unresolved. But even as the question hovered in his mind, an instinct deep within him stirred—a whisper of something far more sinister at play. He could smell it in the very air, the tang of conspiracy and hidden danger, carried on the winds like the scent of a storm brewing on the horizon. His adversary this time—whoever they might be—wasn't likely to be as simple as a band of marauding thieves.

*No... this smells like something deeper. Something darker.*

After what felt like an eternity of walking, I finally reached my destination: a simple two-story house nestled amidst a sprawling garden, overflowing with flowers.

*Flowers again...* People and their obsession with flowers, I thought with a faint smile. It wasn't that I hated them; on the contrary, I understood their charm. But me? Working with flowers? *What a strange hobby...* I could only imagine the sheer embarrassment if any of my relatives were to witness such a sight. It would be enough to have me die of shame.

I shook the thoughts from my mind and approached the door, ringing the bell. The doorbell here was peculiar, unlike the modern systems I was accustomed to in the other world. Instead of simply pressing a button and waiting outside, here, you pressed it, then entered. Though, not all houses had doorbells. Knocking was still a common practice.

I stood there for a minute, the quiet tension of waiting hanging in the air. Then, the wooden door—engraved with floral patterns, naturally—creaked open just slightly. A single green eye peeked through the narrow crack, assessing me. The eye widened for a moment in recognition before narrowing ever so slightly. I could feel the subtle shift in her thoughts, though she said nothing.

I removed my black glove, revealing the guild emblem on my hand. "My name is Kyoka Suigetsu. I'm a 'strong' wizard from Fairy Tail, here to eliminate the bandits." I placed an emphasized weight on the word *strong*, having already been questioned before. Though she said nothing, the silent judgment was palpable.

Clack!

Screech!

Thump!

The door closed gently, but I could hear the unmistakable sound of a chain lock being undone from the inside. I remained still, patient, waiting for her to open the door once more.

A few moments later, the door opened fully. A woman appeared—probably in her twenties, with long emerald hair cascading down her back, reaching the small of her waist. Her eyes scanned the area warily, as if checking for any immediate danger, before offering a soft invitation.

*Ah, so she's worried about being seen.* I made a mental note of the reaction.

"Come inside," she said, sliding the door open wider to allow me entry. Her voice was calm, though her eyes betrayed an edge of caution.

I didn't say a word, simply stepping inside. There would be time to discuss the specifics of the commission later, in private. As I walked into the entryway, my eyes darted around, taking in the unfamiliar environment. Something struck me as odd—the state of disarray the place seemed to be in. Some items looked pristine, as though freshly bought, while others were damaged or haphazardly placed. For someone as meticulous as my client, it was odd.

*Looks like it was attacked recently,* I mused silently, noticing the telltale signs of struggle in the house's condition.

Screech!

Clack!

The door shut behind me with a soft, almost inaudible click, and I heard the chain lock slide back into place. It was unnecessary, but I could tell she was trying to reinforce a sense of security. The sound was a small, subtle act of self-preservation.

The moment the door clicked shut behind me, Maria's entire demeanor crumbled like fragile glass under a crushing weight. Her composed mask, which she had so painstakingly maintained, shattered—revealing the raw, trembling girl beneath. The deflection in her eyes faded, replaced by a deep, gnawing anxiety. Her fingers trembled as she clasped them tightly together, fighting to steady the hurricane of thoughts and emotions roiling beneath the surface.

Her breath was uneven, as though each inhale tore through her chest. "Uhm… My name is Maria," she said, her voice a fragile whisper, and though she offered the invitation of tea, I could hear the hollow tremor beneath her words. "Would you like some tea?" she asked, almost as if asking for permission to delay the storm of truth.

I rejected her offer, shaking my head with a quiet certainty. "No, it's unnecessary. Just tell me about the commission." My tone was as cold as the room had become—heavy with unspoken expectation.

Maria nodded slowly, a flicker of gratitude mixed with unease passing through her eyes. She folded her hands tightly in her lap, though I could see her fingers quiver, betraying the calm she so desperately tried to convey. She breathed in deeply, her chest rising and falling as though she were preparing herself for something far worse than words. Then, she spoke.

"It started three weeks ago," she said, her voice cracking, each word almost a battle to stay composed. Her gaze drifted to some distant point, her mind clearly lost in the past, where the nightmare began. "Our village was peaceful—no more than a quiet haven surrounded by flowers, untouched by the chaos of the world. Until… until the bandits came."

She faltered for a moment, the weight of those words—*the bandits came*—seeming to crush her soul all over again. "They arrived with smiles and innocent faces. At first, they were just tourists. And our people, ever so trusting, welcomed them with open arms. More visitors meant more money, more prosperity for our small village. But we were fools. We did not know the darkness lurking beneath their smiles."

Her voice dropped, so soft I could barely hear it. "One of them… one of them pulled out a blade and hacked down one of our villagers, right there in front of us."

A cold, sinister smile curved the edges of her lips, but it was the kind of smile that spoke of something much darker than amusement. It was the smile of someone who had seen too much cruelty to ever again believe in innocence.

"Every week, they said, 'Our men will come to collect your goods. Your money. If you fail to meet our quota, we'll take one of your own. Kill them. Randomly. Just to make sure you understand.'"

She took another shaky breath, her voice tightening. "And then he—" Her voice broke, a faint tremor rushing through her words. "Then he looked at my father. My protector, my everything. He stood beside me, trying to shield me. But his defiance… it enraged the bandits. They saw his protection as an insult. He wasn't afraid. And so, they targeted him."

Her gaze fell, tears glistening in her eyes that she refused to let fall. She clenched her hands tightly, as though forcing herself to stay in this moment—to face it again. Her voice barely rose above a whisper, but the pain behind it echoed in the room like thunder. "Three men rushed at us. They pinned my father down, his body too frail to fight back against their strength. I screamed. I begged them to stop. But my voice—my pleas—meant nothing."

A slight sob escaped her as she closed her eyes, her throat constricting with the weight of a memory she could never escape. "I could only watch. I could only watch as they dragged him into the center of the village, to make an example of him. And then—" Her voice cracked with emotion. "And then they killed him. Slashed him across the back with a rusted blade. My father's blood spilled into the dirt. His life drained away, and all I could do was watch in horror."

I felt a cold chill spread through my chest, the gravity of her pain pulling me down. Her father—her protector—had been nothing more than a casualty of greed, a sacrifice to those who reveled in fear and power.

"His body fell to the ground, lifeless. And the worst part?" She trembled, her voice dipping low into a raw, guttural sadness. "The worst part is that no one moved. No one did anything. We were all too afraid."

Her words struck like a blade, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from her face, seeing the terror and grief in every line of her expression. She had been forced to bear the weight of that moment, alone in her helplessness.

"Afterward… we held a funeral. But it wasn't a funeral. It was just a formality. A hollow tradition. We couldn't mourn for long, because life didn't stop. We had to work. We had to survive. If we didn't… more would die."

Her gaze turned dark, distant. The bitterness in her voice lingered long after her words had left her lips. "And then… we decided to send out a commission for help. But we didn't have the money to pay for it. It was too risky. No one would help us. No one cared. Until I… until I stepped forward. I thought I could do it, even if it meant risking my life. I thought I could be the one to fix this. But the people I trusted… they couldn't know. Not everyone could be trusted."

Maria looked away, her gaze wandering to the floor as though the weight of her own words was too much to bear. The room grew colder, as though the very air had thickened with the grief and despair that clung to her like a shroud.

"I thought… I thought I could do something. But I didn't realize how deep the rot went. I didn't realize how far the corruption had spread." She paused, her lips trembling as she blinked away the tears that threatened to fall. "I had no idea what I was getting into."

I watched her, feeling the weight of her words settle in my bones. Something didn't fit, though. Something gnawed at the edges of her story, and I wasn't about to let it slide by unanswered.

"Miss Maria," I began, my voice steady as I spoke the truth that hung in the air. "There's something you're not telling me. You said this village was under the protection of Fiore's kingdom. But the fact that no one has responded to this attack… and that the bandits have been able to operate unchecked… suggests that either this place is no longer under the kingdom's protection, or it never was."

She froze, her body stiffening at my words. The fear in her eyes was undeniable now, but there was no escape. "And then there's the state of your house," I continued, leaning closer, my eyes narrowing. "It's been ransacked, Maria. It's not just disorganized. It's been *broken* into. Someone's been here recently."

Her face went pale, and I could see the flicker of guilt in her eyes. Her lips parted, but no words came. Instead, she clasped her hands tighter, trying to hold herself together against the storm I had unleashed.

I stood up slowly, walking to the table where the map lay. "I've been thinking about this. The kingdom would have responded. But they didn't. *Someone* is allowing this to happen. Someone with power. Someone close to you." I pointed to the map, tracing the route I had taken to get here, my finger drawing a line from Magnolia to Hibiscus village. "And it's not the route the kingdom expects, is it? The one they think is too dangerous to use. You've been using a secret route, haven't you?"

Her breath hitched, and I saw the truth finally dawn in her eyes. But it wasn't over. Not yet.

"You're hiding something, Maria," I said quietly, watching her face pale even more. "But it's not just the bandits. There's someone else pulling the strings, isn't there? Someone who has you cornered."

She flinched, her face turning red with embarrassment and fury. "You think I would…" She slapped the table, her face flushed with the sting of my words. "You think I would *offer my body* to you in exchange for your help?" Her voice was fierce now, though the blush on her face told a different story—one of deep humiliation.

I raised both my hands in mock surrender, a smirk tugging at my lips. "I apologize, Maria. I may have been a bit too forward. But let's be clear: I'm here to finish this job, not to make deals."

And with that, I let the illusion of my true face slip away, revealing the truth—my true identity. She gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as recognition flickered in her eyes. "This is my real face," I said calmly. "But this isn't about me. It's about you. Your village. And your freedom."

She stared at me in shock, but my voice rang clear: "I'll take the commission. I'll finish what needs to be done. All I ask in return is a bouquet of flowers."

She stared, too stunned to speak, as I turned toward the door.

"Tell me when the tax collector arrives," I said, my words cutting through the tension. "We'll handle the rest."

The passage of time stretched on like a heavy silence, and the village seemed to hold its breath in anticipation. The tax collector was due, and as expected, the usual authority was nowhere to be found. The village chief, once the face of law and order, was no more than a distant memory, replaced by those with far more sinister motives. Under the iron fist of the bandits, what had once been a routine transaction now became a cruel mockery.

I remained on a nearby bench, silent and unmoving, a stark contrast to the tension swirling around me. The villagers watched nervously, too afraid to look up, yet too desperate to do anything but wait. They had already given up on hope, but I… I had not.

Then he arrived.

The tax collector—if one could even call him that—was a bloated, arrogant man, draped in filthy, torn clothing. His black bandana was a symbol of the chaos he now represented, his dagger gleaming from his waist like a pathetic reminder of his own self-worth. His appearance sent a ripple of dread through the crowd, but his confidence was unshaken.

"It's time for tax collection! Hurry up, fools!" he bellowed, his voice like a slap to the face. His gaze locked onto mine, narrowing as he sneered in contempt. "Ah, a tourist? We haven't allowed any strangers in here for days. Who the hell are you?"

His eyes glinted with suspicion, and his body tensed, clearly ready for confrontation. But I didn't flinch. Instead, I met his gaze with an unsettling calm, standing from my seat, my finger slowly extending in his direction.

The villagers, sensing the growing danger, braced themselves for a violent encounter. But I was not moved by their fear. I was already operating on a different plane.

"Tsukuyomi!" I whispered, the words like a crack of thunder in the quiet air.

In an instant, we vanished from the village. The world around us melted away, replaced by an endless void. Time and space fractured as I isolated us both in this twisted dimension. The villagers remained, their eyes glazed, their minds under my control, witnessing what was about to unfold but powerless to intervene.

The man looked around in confusion, his breath shallow, his heart racing. He didn't understand. And then—he was crucified.

His body was pinned in mid-air, suspended by an invisible force, his limbs spread wide in agonizing submission. His eyes darted about, but no matter how hard he struggled, he could not escape. He was trapped.

A slow smile crept across my face as I appeared before him, a sinister shadow in the bleakness of this world. He could see me, but I could see everything—his fear, his desperation. His hands trembled as he tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat.

"This is an artificial world," I explained coldly, my voice echoing in the emptiness. "In the world of Tsukuyomi, time, space, and even physical mass… I control it all. The next 72 hours will be nothing but this. Over and over. For you."

He could barely comprehend what I had said before I pulled the katana from my waist, the gleaming blade reflecting the dim light of the void. I pressed the tip to his thigh, and in a single, fluid motion, I thrust it deep into his flesh.

"Argh!" His scream echoed through the void, a sharp, desperate cry that reverberated in my ears. But I didn't stop there. I watched, detached, as his agony unfolded, his body writhing in futile resistance.

His screams intensified with each strike. A cruel symphony of suffering. But I was not moved. I was not here for justice. I was here for answers.

Another version of me appeared, this one standing by the side, asking questions, offering the bandit a chance for mercy.

"Tell me everything you know," I said, my voice barely a whisper, yet it carried the weight of fate. "Tell me everything, and I will give you a painless death."

The man's eyes were wide, filled with terror, and with every stab, he screamed. "Argh!" The sound seemed to tear through his very soul. But he broke. He cracked under the pressure. His will shattered, and he confessed everything.

The villagers, still under my influence, watched with bated breath as the truth spilled from his lips. Their faces twisted with disgust as they learned the full extent of his betrayal. It was his fault. The village's suffering, the bandits' reign of terror—it all led back to him. He had been the one who had opened the gates for them. He had allowed the destruction to fester.

"Please… please… spare me…" he begged, his voice shaking with fear.

But mercy was not my choice. Not yet. I let the Tsukuyomi continue, his reality stretching, his torment a never-ending cycle. He begged again, but I ignored him. Time was fluid here. Reality was mine to bend, and I had not yet decided when it would end.

He passed out from the pain, his body collapsing in defeat, but I did not end his suffering. Not yet.

Finally, I ended the illusion, pulling the man from his nightmare and returning him to the physical world. The villagers stood in stunned silence, their eyes wide with shock, unable to comprehend the depths of what had just occurred.

But there was no time for sentiment. I drew my katana once more, and in a single, swift motion, I beheaded him. His body fell to the ground in a heap, a lifeless thing, and I was already moving.

The bandits had a hideout, and I would make sure they understood the price of crossing me. I raced through the woods, my speed unmatched, my blade cutting through the air with deadly precision.

When I arrived, the chaos began. It was a massacre. I tore through them like a force of nature, cutting down one bandit after another. They had no chance, no opportunity to fight back. Even the strongest among them fell before me, never understanding how their end had come.

When it was over, the hideout lay in ruin. Bodies littered the ground, their lives snuffed out in a blur of steel. I collected the corpses and the treasures—proof of their cruelty—and began my return.

Back to the village.

The problem was solved. But there were still questions. Unanswered questions.

As I stepped back into the village, I knew that the story wasn't over. Not yet.

The villagers, a sea of seething fury, surrounded the manor with an intensity that mirrored the wrath of an ancient tempest. Their faces were contorted masks of anger, each person embodying years of suppressed suffering and unspoken grievances. The air itself seemed to tremble beneath the weight of their collective rage.

"Get out of there!" a thickset man bellowed, his voice a gravelly growl, thick with emotion. His fists, weathered from years of toil, clenched so tightly his knuckles seemed ready to split. His face, ruddy and flushed with indignation, glistened with the sheen of sweat that had nothing to do with the heat.

"We all know it's your own doing!" cried a woman with fiery eyes, her skin creased like ancient parchment. She flung her arm into the air, pointing an accusing finger at the manor. Her voice was sharp as broken glass, a shrill note that seemed to pierce through the thrumming air.

"Hurry up!" a man snarled, his back hunched in the way of someone who had borne burdens far too long. His crooked hands gripped a pitchfork, its tines swaying like a deadly extension of his own fury. The veins in his neck pulsed, his breath shallow, each word leaving his lips as if torn from him by the very force of his hatred.

"Get out!" they chanted in unison, a cacophony of voices rising like an enraged chorus. Their collective fury built to a crescendo, a tangible wave of malice crashing against the walls of the manor. But those walls—those cold, impenetrable walls—stood tall, shielding their quarry from the villagers' wrath.

I stood hidden from their sight, perched upon a distant rooftop, my figure blending seamlessly into the shadowed eaves. From my vantage point, I watched as Maria stood among the throng, a lone, solitary figure in the midst of their fervor. She was calm, but her eyes flickered with a storm of thoughts and feelings that could not be expressed by mere words.

*Well, that saves me some trouble,* I thought, my lips curling into a slight smirk as I took in the sight. Maria, surrounded by the riotous crowd, appeared more like a figure of quiet resignation than one of power, though she would soon wield that very power.

With a single graceful movement, I leapt from the rooftop, landing beside her with the sound of soft footfalls. She didn't notice me at first. In the next instant, I grasped her waist, pulling her close, my fingers brushing against the fabric of her clothes. She gasped, startled, her body stiffening beneath my touch.

"Ugh!?" she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of surprise and something else, something warmer.

When her eyes met mine, the sudden anger that had flickered in them vanished, replaced with the cold recognition of a familiar presence. I released her immediately, a slight shrug of my shoulders signaling the end of the moment. "Well, I'm done with the task," I said, my voice matter-of-fact, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Her lips parted into a soft smile, the kind of smile that could light the darkest of rooms, though it was tinged with an undercurrent of gratitude. "Thank you…" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, a melody of sincerity.

But I shook my head, my eyes narrowing as I turned my gaze back to the manor. "It's not over yet," I replied, my words heavy with a quiet warning.

In the distance, a voice cut through the tension. "Look! There he is!" The villagers, their anger now palpable in the air, directed their fury toward the window where the village chief cowered behind the glass.

"*There!*" they screamed, their voices rising in a primal roar. Rocks, rotten vegetables, and debris began to fly, thundering against the invisible barrier of the manor. The once-pristine glass shattered as their collective rage found its target. But the walls remained impervious—protected by unseen forces.

I turned to Maria with a half-smile, the corners of my lips twitching. "You'll have to pay extra for this…" I said with a wink, savoring the absurdity of it all.

Before she could respond, I was already in motion, vaulting effortlessly over the fence and landing in the midst of the chaotic scene. My body twisted in midair, repositioning itself as I prepared for what was to come. My fist soared forward, and in the next breath, the sound of glass splintering and walls crumbling filled the air. The manor's exterior buckled under the force of my blow, a thunderous crack that seemed to echo through the very bones of the earth.

For a heartbeat, silence reigned. The crowd fell still, awestruck by the sheer force of the destruction. Dust and debris swirled around us, the air heavy with the scent of broken wood and shattered glass. Through the jagged remnants of the manor's window, I strode forward, grabbing the village chief by his collar and lifting him off the ground with effortless ease.

"Now then…" I said, my voice colder than the night air. I looked down at the man with the indifference of one who had already decided the outcome. His eyes widened, pupils dilating as he recognized the terror of his situation.

"Tsukuyomi."

The world around us bent and twisted, the familiar landscape of the village vanishing like smoke in the wind. In its place was an endless void, a vast expanse of blackness that seemed to stretch on forever. The chief's body jerked in place as invisible chains wrapped around him, suspending him in midair. His body was pinned to an unseen cross, a spectacle of suffering in an endless abyss.

"Don't worry," I said coldly, my words dripping with an unsettling calm. "I won't kill you. But you will tell me why you did this…"

His voice quivered in the silence, a crack of fear lacing his every syllable. "I saw her… I saw her with an old man… *She cheated on me!*" His words broke the stillness, a desperate confession spilling from his lips.

A collective gasp rippled through the hidden spectators. "Maria cheated on him?" a voice whispered, disbelief and confusion clouding their words.

"Maria?" another murmured, their face pale with shock. "She's never been with anyone. She's always been independent…"

Maria's expression froze, her face a mask of utter disbelief. She turned away, her gaze dropping to the ground, as if to hide the sudden flush of embarrassment staining her cheeks.

I looked at her, my mind racing with confusion. *This doesn't make sense…*

In that moment, I realized the depth of the absurdity. The chief's words didn't match the truth; they couldn't. The idea of Maria betraying someone was as foreign as the moon itself. *You've got to be kidding me,* I thought, the very idea of this situation making my stomach twist.

But there was no time for explanations. "Hugging someone? That's not NTR," I muttered, my frustration rising. "You're delusional. You don't even know what NTR is. This… this is just jealousy!"

But I could see it in his eyes—he was far gone, trapped in a delusion of his own making.

With a flick of my wrist, I cancelled the Tsukuyomi. The world around us snapped back into place, the harsh reality of the village returning in a blink. The villagers stood in stunned silence, unsure of how to process the twisted narrative they had just witnessed.

I turned to face them, my voice carrying over the stillness. "I was hired by Miss Maria to eliminate the bandits," I said, my tone businesslike. I waved my hand, and one by one, the lifeless bodies of the bandits appeared before the crowd, their twisted, contorted forms a testament to the brutality of their lives. "I'm done, and you can have your money back." I released the stolen treasure, letting it spill to the ground with a clink.

"I didn't take a single cent," I added, my gaze cold. "Since the task is finished, I'll leave his judgment to you."

With those words, I turned and walked away, leaving them to their decisions.

**Several minutes later**

In the distance, Maria stood, holding a bouquet of flowers, her expression one of quiet gratitude and something else—something too complex for words.

She approached me slowly, as though uncertain of her next words. "I… I want to thank you for everything," she said softly, her voice weighted with emotion.

I gave her a smile, warm yet distant. "Don't mention it. It's my job."

She hesitated, a shadow crossing her face. "As for the village chief… I killed him. And the villagers have agreed to make me their leader."

"Is that so?" I said, surprised. "Congratulations."

Her gaze shifted downward, a quiet sense of relief washing over her. "By the way, about your reward…"

"Hmmm?" I asked, not fully prepared for what was to come.

"I'm now the village chief…" she said, her voice trailing off. "If you want, you can stay here. I can arrange housing for you."

I raised an eyebrow. "Nah, I'd rather not."

Her confusion was palpable. "Huh?"

"I have to finish my mission," I said, my tone as indifferent as ever.

Her frustration was evident as she stomped toward me, her face a mixture of determination and vexation. "Then, you can have your reward now!" she exclaimed, shoving the bouquet into my arms with a force that made me stumble slightly.

I looked at the flowers, then back at her. *What's wrong with her?* I thought, bemused.

But before I could protest, I called after her. "Miss Maria!" She stopped, her back still turned. "I'm leaving now. If you ever have time, or if you want to see me again, come to the Fairy Tail guild."

Without waiting for her response, I waved my hand casually, my figure already disappearing into the distance.

As I walked away, I could hear her soft smile radiating warmth from afar. The day's chaos felt distant, like an old dream fading with each step.

*Sure enough, people do things for a reason,* I mused silently. *Regardless of the reason, as long as it's enough to motivate them, they'll do anything—even destroy the world.*

*

I glanced down at the grave before me, the stone cold and unyielding. *Cornelia Alberona.* My mother's name etched in stone.

Gently, I placed the bouquet upon the grave, my hands trembling slightly. "My mother… it's the first time I'm seeing you," I whispered, my voice quiet, filled with a sorrow I could not articulate. I placed my palm upon the cold gravestone, a final act of reverence.

With a soft mutter, I activated the magic. A shimmer of light passed over the stone, and the flowers I had chosen began to bloom in silent defiance of time's cruel march.

"Plant magic: Growth limit."

A soft barrier shimmered into existence, protecting the flowers from harm. The magic was subtle, but its effects would last forever. The flowers would remain, untouched, as a memory to my mother.

I took a step back, my heart heavy, and as I donned my black mask, I activated Kyoka Suigetsu. The world shifted, and in an instant, I vanished, my presence erased from the graveyard like a forgotten dream.

But unbeknownst to me, someone watched from the shadows—her figure cloaked in white, her face hidden beneath the folds of a hood. A soft smile curled upon her lips, tender and full of affection. She watched as I walked away, her eyes filled with a warmth only a mother could understand.

And as the distance between us grew, she turned and disappeared into the night, her presence fading like a whisper on the wind.