Northern and the council president sat in complete silence, neither speaking for nearly twenty minutes.
Northern had closed his eyes, letting the cold wind brush against his skin as he resonated with the quiet rhythm of the park. The girl sat beside him with her legs crossed, posture composed, as if waiting for something unspoken to settle.
Then… he felt a soft poke against his side.
Northern opened his eyes and turned his gaze toward her.
She was holding out a stainless steel bottle.
"A… water bottle?" he asked, brows faintly furrowed in confusion.
"It's an item that keeps things warm," she replied calmly. "There's tea inside. I thought it might help with the cold."
Her voice was hoarse—yet laced with a strange, melodious beauty. The sound stood at odds with her short stature, at least based on Northern's assumptions about what someone so small should sound like.
He looked at her outstretched hand, unmoving for a moment.
"It also boosts stamina," she added quietly. "It's… a really good thing. My mom taught me how to make it."
Northern blinked. He hadn't seen her speak this much before. Not once. And judging by the soft tension in her hands, he could tell—it had taken her the full twenty minutes to muster the courage to say anything at all.
He exhaled softly and took the bottle from her.
"Thank you."
Unscrewing the top, he poured the tea into the lid and raised it to his lips.
The taste was mildly bitter—just enough to catch his tongue—but it left a sweet aftertaste that lingered warmly in his mouth. It flowed smoothly down his throat, gently warming the tightness in his chest.
He let out a low hum of satisfaction.
"Arrrghhh… that's a good one."
The council president smiled faintly, proud.
"I know, right? It works."
Northern gave her a genuine smile in return, a rare expression that softened the pale edges of his face.
"It does. What herb is it made from?"
She hesitated, gaze drifting to the side.
"I'm… not sure you'd know it."
Northern met her eyes, still smiling.
"Try me. You'd be surprised."
She drew a long, cautious glance over him, clearly doubtful. Then, with a short breath, she answered.
"Autumn's Fall."
Northern's smile deepened.
"Feijoa Ciliaris."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"Feijoa Ciliaris is an uncommon, tiny plant."
Northern continued…
"found only in frozen lands. It blooms in late autumn, which is why it earned the name 'Autumn's Fall.' Its leaves are wide and paired, usually green with white edges. It produces small flowers in shades of light brown, bronze, dark yellow, or dark bronze."
He paused, letting the description settle.
"They grow in tight clusters and are difficult to cultivate or control. Their properties aren't well-documented, but they smell incredible."
Then his smile dimmed just slightly, turning thoughtful.
"But I only know Feijoa Ciliaris from the books. It's extremely rare in the Central Plains—there's just not enough frozen terrain. By the time autumn comes, winter's edge has already faded. That's why it's mostly found in the Northern Continent."
He looked down at the tea, then back at her.
"And considering most merchants haven't been able to establish consistent trade with the Northern Continent… this herb is practically unheard of here."
He stared at her intently and spoke slowly.
"So… I'm rather curious… How did you get this?"
The student council president blinked, dumbstruck.
In a world where people were obsessed with slaying monsters, honing their talents, and chasing the echoes of their true names—who would've thought someone like Northern, one of the strongest among them, would care so much about plants?
She was still trying to wrap her mind around the image when she realized he was waiting.
"…Are you going to answer?"
"Huh?"
"I said… How did you get such a rare herb? I'm curious."
"Oh!"
She gasped, suddenly remembering how to form words.
"Garden. My mother has a garden in the yard of our palace. It's grown there. She cultivates lots of it."
Northern's expression shifted. His eyes narrowed, and he leaned in slightly, frowning.
"Your house… has frozen land?"
She looked down and smiled, almost sheepishly.
"Well, it's always frozen there."
Northern's mind raced, trying to piece it together. Her words… the herb… the conditions…
There was only one possibility.
"There's only one place that could possibly have frozen land year-round. But that's not possible…"
His head tilted slightly as he tried to rationalize it.
"…You can't be from the Northern Continent, right?"
The council president nodded.
"I am the last princess of the Kingdom of Narthrowe…. in the Northern Continent."
Northern froze.
Mouth open.
No thoughts, just—
'What?'
He blinked. Then blinked again.
Not only was she from the Northern Continent… she was royalty?
He lurched forward and instinctively grabbed her shoulders, lightning shooting up his spine from the sheer excitement.
"Oh my stars! What's the Northern Continent like?! How many kingdoms are there? How do people even survive there? Is it true the sun freezes over for months and you live through endless days? Or nights?!"
He was a torrent of questions now, wide-eyed and breathless.
As a child, Northern had heard tales of the Northern Continent—harsh, beautiful, untamed. It had always felt like myth. An arctic land where time broke down, where monsters were born in blizzards, and where the sun was swallowed whole by the season.
He thought they were stories meant to fill taverns and earn a few coins.
But now—he was sitting beside a girl who lived there.
The council president chuckled softly, her smile genuine as Northern's grip still lingered on her shoulders.
Only then did he realize it—and immediately withdrew, clearing his throat.
"Ahem… Sorry. I got a little carried away."
She gave a light shrug.
"It's fine. I'd love to tell you more about it. But… we don't have the time. The contest resumes soon."
Northern exhaled and nodded.
"You're right."
He stood, brushing off his pants, then looked down at her and passed her the stainless bottle.
She collected it, remaining seated, legs still crossed elegantly, her presence as quiet as snowfall.
"You'll tell me later then?"
She nodded.
"After the contest."
A small smile tugged at his lips.
"Okay."
He turned to go, took a few steps… then paused.
Scratching his cheek, he glanced back, slightly embarrassed.
"Uh… I don't think I ever got your name."
She blinked, surprised by the question. Then her lips curved into a smile, and a soft flush crept into her cheeks.
"My name is… Nyssira. Nyssira Narthrowe."
Northern raised a brow and smirked.
"Alright then. I'll just call you Nyssa. You can call me Rian."
She blushed again.
"Okay… Rian."
He gave her a brief wave as he walked off.
"See you at the tournament, Nyssa."
And with that, he turned a corner, his silhouette vanishing beyond the path.
Nyssa sat there a moment longer, her eyes still tracing the space he had occupied.
Until finally… she smiled again.