Ren's footsteps eventually led him to the city center.
This was the heart of Crossroads—a wide stone plaza surrounded by low limestone buildings and merchant carts slowly being set up. The air filled with light chatter, the clinking of metal, and children's laughter, signaling the day's gradual awakening.
But what caught Ren's attention wasn't the bustle.
It was what stood at the plaza's center.
A fountain.
About two meters tall, circular with a central pillar that poured water into a round basin surrounding it. At its peak stood the statue of a woman holding a vase, her expression serene, as though blessing the world below.
Clear water flowed gently from the vase, creating a soothing trickle amidst the city's activity.
Ren stood there for a moment, silent, simply watching the fountain.
Then he stepped toward a long stone bench near the basin. He sat down slowly, leaning his slightly weary body back, and gazed at the flowing water.
Everything had happened so fast.
In just one night, he had been given a name, a role, and a direction in a world he didn't even understand.
He recalled the faces he had met:
Loki, with his calm, secretive smile.
Arata, firm yet warm.
Clara, full of energy; Lina, quiet yet sharp; and Kiel, awkward but sincere.
*Why am I here?*
*What does any of this mean?*
*And what should I do now?*
The flowing water seemed to answer in silence.
Ren stared at his reflection in the still pool.
He still didn't recognize the face looking back at him.
Yet… for now, he chose not to run.
He would sit.
Feel the morning sun.
Listen to the water.
And let his mind settle, little by little.
Because after this… he would choose his path.
And for the first time, that decision would truly be his own.
---
"Oh, you look lost in thought."
A light voice came from the side.
Ren lifted his head slowly, startled from his reverie. Before him stood a man with a relaxed yet sturdy posture. He wore light armor of dark brown leather—flexible yet sturdy enough to protect vital areas.
At his waist hung a one-handed sword, its scabbard worn but well-maintained—a weapon not just for show.
His hair was dark brown, slightly messy but natural. His eyes—bright. Their color almost seemed to glow, giving him a sharp but unthreatening presence.
He approached unhurriedly, stopping at the fountain's edge as if simply enjoying the morning view.
Ren studied him, slightly confused but calm. He sensed no danger from this man… but also didn't understand his purpose.
"...Were you talking to me?" Ren asked softly, making sure.
The man smiled faintly and nodded. "Of course. You've been sitting here alone for a while. Your eyes look… empty. Usually, that means someone's thinking too much."
Ren lowered his head briefly, slightly embarrassed. Maybe it was true.
But still… he didn't know this person.
"Am I bothering you?" the man asked lightly, keeping his distance if unwelcome.
"...No," Ren finally replied. "I just… don't know where to go."
"Ah, a rookie, then?" The man sat on the other end of the stone bench, maintaining a polite space. "I could tell from the plaque on your belt."
Ren glanced at the small metal plate hanging from his waist, then back at the man.
"...Are you an adventurer too?"
The man nodded. "Been in this city for about two years. Name's Lecht. Basic-rank Swordsman… though I don't care much for formalities."
He turned and extended a hand.
"And you?"
Ren studied the hand briefly before reaching out and shaking it lightly.
"...Ren."
Lecht gave a short nod, his faint smile unchanged.
"Nice to meet you, Ren."
Lecht studied Ren for a few seconds, his eyes narrowing slightly as if observing something invisible to others. Then, in a quieter voice, he asked:
"...Are you, by any chance… a Lost Child too?"
The question stole Ren's breath for a moment.
That term—*Lost Child*—had been repeated since last night. But this was the first time someone said it differently. Not from the perspective of this world's inhabitants… but as if he *understood* it from within.
Ren turned, his gaze hesitant, but slowly answered:
"...Are you one too, Lecht?"
Lecht chuckled softly—not in amusement, but something bitter.
"Me? Yeah." He nodded, watching the endlessly flowing fountain. "Two years ago… I woke up with no memories, no direction. Just a name that felt right in my head, and a world that welcomes no one."
Ren fell silent.
His heart suddenly felt… lighter.
Not because Lecht's answer gave him hope, but because for the first time,
he had met someone who truly *understood.*
"So… you've survived all this time?" Ren asked quietly.
Lecht nodded slowly.
"Barely. Nothing's easy here. But that doesn't mean everything's dark. If you can accept that you've lost everything, then you can start building something from scratch."
He turned to Ren again, his gaze deeper this time.
Ren kept watching Lecht's face, trying to understand the man now sitting beside him. Under the warming morning light, their shadows stretched toward the fountain, blending with the reflection of the statue still pouring water.
Crossroads slowly came alive.
Merchants began calling from their stalls.
A horse-drawn cart of fresh vegetables passed behind them.
Smoke from kitchen chimneys danced in the air, carrying the scent of morning soup and baked bread.
Yet amid the growing bustle, their conversation felt separate—as if the outside world wasn't listening.
"You know…" Lecht spoke again after a few silent seconds. "Back when I first sat on this bench, I felt empty too. Like… even the air was too foreign to breathe."
Ren listened, silent.
"I used to think if I just kept walking… my memories might return. But day after day, all I found was the truth: this world never waits for you."
He smiled, but there was a quiet pain beneath it.
"And now?" Ren finally asked, his voice soft.
Lecht exhaled. "Now… I've stopped hoping to go back. And started trying to live as someone who belongs here."
The answer settled quietly in Ren's chest. He didn't know if it was surrender… or acceptance.
Ren lowered his head, staring at his reflection in the calm pool.
"Then… what should I do?"
Lecht didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he stood slowly, stretching and looking at the sky.
"My advice? Sit here a little longer."
Ren looked up, confused.
"If you force yourself to choose too quickly, you'll just feel lost again. But if you let this world come to you… maybe the answer will appear on its own."
Ren gave a small nod. He didn't fully understand… but something in Lecht's voice made the words easier to accept.
Lecht stepped away but paused after a few steps. He glanced back.
"I'm often here in the mornings, if you want to talk again. No need to answer now. This world isn't always as fast as you think."
With that, he truly left—melding into the thickening morning crowd.
Ren watched his back disappear behind the flow of passersby.
The wind blew again. The fountain still flowed. And around him, the world moved on as usual.
Yet… inside him, something small had begun to change.
Not an answer.
But the realization… that he wasn't alone in this world.
And that maybe—he could start accepting himself, step by step.
Without rushing.
Without force.
And without needing to know everything right now.
---
Ren sat there long enough for the world to move on without him. He watched people pass: mothers carrying market baskets, children running with bread in hand, lightly cloaked soldiers marching in formation in the distance.
Before him, the fountain's water still flowed in its quiet rhythm. The sun rose higher, its light reflecting off the basin's surface in delicate, rippling glimmers.
But… in that calm, he felt his heart gradually finding a place that felt less foreign.
Ren looked down at his reflection once more. The face he still didn't fully recognize—yet today, it seemed slightly steadier than yesterday.
…Enough stillness. Now, it was time to move.
Slowly, Ren stood from the stone bench. He felt the morning breeze touch his face as he took a deep breath. Then, without a word, he began walking.
His steps carried him north—toward the gate where he'd heard Swordsman training took place.
The city streets grew busier, but Ren wove through the crowd with quiet steps. He passed weapon shops displaying swords behind glass, wooden buildings echoing with the clang of a blacksmith's hammer, and bakeries with warm scents piercing the air.
Adventurers came and went—some with spears, some with shields. But none glanced his way.
He was just another new face in Crossroads.
Yet beneath the novice plaque hanging from his belt, Ren now carried something slowly growing—
Purpose.
The will to become *someone.*
And as the buildings thinned and the northern city walls came into view, Ren finally arrived before an open training ground fenced by wooden barriers, with rows of practice swords neatly arranged on a long rack.
Shouts echoed from within. The sound of stomping feet. The clack of wooden blades meeting.
This was… the Swordsman training grounds.
Ren stood before the entrance, staring at the unfamiliar training field.
He took one more breath, and without hesitation…
Stepped inside.