Hymns once echoed through the streets as a familiar sound.
The solemn, reverent melodies carried a soothing presence, calming the hearts of those who listened. As a result, mornings for the citizens of the Holy City typically had a quiet, serene atmosphere.
But things were a little different these days. Was it because of the festive mood? With so many people pouring into Trumpethall, perhaps even the bards couldn’t resist a good story and found themselves drawn into it.
Two foot stomps, one clap. Lively tunes shattered the morning drowsiness, ringing out from every direction.
A street vendor humming along as he polished his apples. A mischievous boy weaving through the white-tiled pavement, singing to himself. The melody was simple—yet irresistibly catchy.
“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”
The female knight slowed her steps, momentarily gripped by a stirring impulse.
Most of Cicel Yurensto’s life was spent training. Aside from eating, sleeping, or heading to the battlefield, every moment was dedicated to refining her swordsmanship.
There was nothing else to do—nothing else she wanted to do.
But when the extreme effects of her Metamorphosis began taking a toll on her soul, the Eastern Front’s medic issued a strict order: ‘Restful relaxation for both body and mind’.Though the nature of the soul remained largely unexplored, and the intricacies of its healing and damage were still shrouded in mystery, one truth was widely accepted—positive, peaceful emotions were beneficial in its recovery.
Dark Wizards were the stark opposite.
They extracted mana by wringing souls dry with negative emotions. The fact that they avoided using positive emotions as a source of power likely had its own set of reasons—at least, that was what the medic said.
As a result, Cicel Yurensto found herself receiving a direct order from the First Princess:
“Limit your training to two hours a day. Spend the rest of your time finding a hobby and enjoying it.’
A hobby. If a hobby was meant to be a refuge for the soul, a source of joy, then Cicel had none.
Without hobbies, she couldn’t fulfill her orders. Without training, all she could do was sit idly on her bed, watching the hours crawl by—like a butterfly pinned inside a display case.
Each day was the same. She would buy her usual meal (seven types of bread) , return home, eat alone, and then let time slip away, as it always did.
She had no idea how to fill the empty spaces in her schedule.
If everything else was empty, she supposed taking a little detour couldn’t hurt. Slowly, Cicel Yurensto followed the sound of music drifting through the streets.
The sound led her to a bustling stage, where a lively crowd had gathered.
On a makeshift wooden platform, a charming young girl was dancing and singing. It was a street performance.
With bright red twin-tails swaying as she moved, the lively girl effortlessly drew the audience in. She looked like someone accustomed to being in the spotlight.
“How was it? Did you enjoy it? It was pretty good, right?”
“You’re the best, Karen!”
“We’re cheering for you in the tournament too!”
“Hey! No tournament talk! I’m here as a performer right now!”
The girl chuckled playfully, her teasing laughter rippling through the crowd. It reached Cicel as well, drawing her in.
Before she realized it, she was slipping through the gaps between people, as if entranced—moving forward.
“Hey, stop pushi⋯⋯ euk, what’s with this strength⋯⋯?!”
“I’m being p-pushed back⋯⋯?!”
Cicel’s strength far surpassed her petite frame, and maneuvering through the dense crowd was no challenge for her. In no time, she reached the front row, where she could clearly see and hear the girl.
Red hair⋯⋯ could she be from the South, where the sun lingers long in the sky?
Her voice wasn’t particularly outstanding, but her ability to captivate the atmosphere was exceptional. She moved as if breathing with the crowd, raising the festival mood.
By the time Cicel snapped back to her senses, several songs had passed. Judging by the texture of the bread in her bag—which had gone from soft to hard—a good deal of time had likely gone by too.
“Now, should the next song be exciting? Or a little softer?”
“Exciting-!!”
Tap tap.
The girl waggled her index finger side to side before gesturing toward the upside-down fedora at her feet. The hat already held a fair number of coins, but it wasn’t full. And that was the key point.
“Oh no! My assistant, ‘Mr. Hat,’ doesn’t seem very excited! He’s too hungry to enjoy the music. Wouldn’t some kind soul help fill ‘Mr. Hat’s’ belly?”
Give me money.
The crowd chuckled before tossing coins in, one by one. Yet the girl, seemingly unsatisfied, took her time and waited a bit more patiently. After all, she knew the atmosphere was working in her favor!
But Cicel Yurensto, still dazed by the girl’s singing, had a single thought looping in her head: The song won’t continue unless Mr. Hat’s belly is full .
Clatter.
Without hesitation, she flipped her bag of bread upside down, emptying its contents into the hat. Cool, stale loaves tumbled in, releasing a faint nutty aroma into the air.
“Et⋯⋯.”
“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”
“Well, I appreciate the generosity, but I was asking for money⋯⋯.”
“Ah.”
Realizing her mistake a moment too late, Cicel’s face flushed. The girl laughed at her reaction, then extended a hand toward her.
“My name’s Karen! Bard, mercenary, playwright, and stage director! Why don’t we grab a meal together? Looks like you just donated all your bread.”
“I, uh⋯⋯ am Cicel. Yes, if it’s not a bother, then⋯⋯.”
The sacrifice of bread turned out to be worthwhile.
At this unexpected development, Crazy Wizard quietly scrapped the ‘Are You Interested in Becoming an Idol?’ plan.
===============================================================
Karen was a chatterbox.
“So, this was back when I was in the West. At the time, I was searching for a way to express my artistic talent. I mean, my voice objectively isn’t suited for singing, since there were, uh, limitations in translating the melodies in my head into actual music. So──”
“Ah⋯⋯.”
“So, I thought, why not start a troupe? Gather different kinds of bards and create a stage! Of course, people always say things like, ‘That kind of theater is for nobles,’ or ‘The uneducated masses wouldn’t appreciate it.’ But I think differently! If we just improve accessibility—”
Honestly, Cicel barely understood even half of what Karen was saying. But she did grasp one thing—Karen was involved in a lot of things.
And⋯⋯ that she had so many things she wanted to do.
That sparked a bit of curiosity.
Cicel had seen Karen perform before—on an entirely different stage. During the Hero Selection Tournament, the girl had wielded two daggers to defeat a seasoned mercenary.
Why would someone with dreams of founding a troupe be competing in the Hero Selection Tournament?
“It’s advertisement!”
“⋯⋯Advertisement?”
“I’ll make it as far as I can in the rounds—or fight someone super famous! Then, I’ll make an awesome presentation. Saying something like, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, remember the name Karen!”
“That is, a brilliant idea⋯⋯.”
So she was using the grand tournament as a massive billboard. Clearly, she had no real interest in the immense glory of becoming a Hero.
She spoke with unshakable enthusiasm about using the fame she’d gain to attract investors, establish her troupe, and eventually bring performances to the Empire’s capital. She had a clear dream.
“Then what about you?”
“Pardon?”
“Ahee, I watched it. Your match⋯⋯. Everyone was saying you’re a famous knight from the East. They said you’re the strongest candidate. Why are you participating in the tournament? Is it some wandering knight thing? Like proving your strength?”
“⋯⋯.”
“Because⋯⋯.”
Saying something like, ‘ I had to’ ⋯⋯ it had disappointed the old man in her first match.
Telling Karen, who had pinned her dreams on this tournament, something so lifeless felt⋯⋯as inappropriate as showing up to a grand ball dressed as a cleaning maid.
So Cicel made it sound as if she had a big reason for entering.
“I have an illness. I thought becoming a Hero might help me find a cure, so I took on the challenge.”
“Heuk⋯⋯! Did I just uh, ask something really rude?”
“It’s fine. It’s not even that serious⋯⋯.”
And it wasn’t. The symptoms were severe, but the solution was simple. If she stopped using Metamorphosis, the problem would vanish immediately.
But, what was hard was imagining what would happen if she didn’t recover. Elaine would never allow her to return to the battlefield in this state. That meant she would need to find⋯⋯ something else to do.
Yet, whenever Cicel tried to picture a version of herself who didn’t fight, all she saw was a hollow figure, sitting on a bed, staring blankly at time passing.
Not knowing what to do. Just sinking, like a corpse.
She knew nothing about herself except being the knight of Yurensto.
“An illness, huh⋯⋯.”
Karen hesitated for a moment before speaking cautiously.
“So, uh, I actually know this really skilled priest. He’s an expert in medicine and alchemy, and he’s even got connections with the former Cardinal. He usually keeps to himself, so he’s not very well-known either.”
“You’re saying⋯⋯?”
“I don’t know what kind of illness would make someone want to become a Hero, but if you’re okay with it, why not get it checked out?”
“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”
A miraculous doctor, completely unknown to the public, recommended by a bard girl from the streets.
Even in the best-case scenario, it sounded suspicious.
But the mention of a connection with the former Cardinal caught her attention. After all, there was only one person alive who fit that description.
The former Cardinal and current War Priest, Dakiten Julius.
It was Julius who had first diagnosed Cicel’s Soul Sickness. If Karen’s words were true, then perhaps Julius could provide her with more information⋯⋯.
“Could I… have some time to think about it?”
“Of course! I’m not like, trying to scam you with some massive consultation fee or anything⋯⋯ so take your time. I just thought, you know, being a Hero is tough. If there’s another way to fix it, wouldn’t that be great?”
Karen gave her a double thumbs-up.
After promising to meet Karen again, Cicel went to see Dakiten Julius, who was in the Holy City, to ask about this ‘reclusive doctor.’
Dakiten, who had already received word from Crazy Wizard, wasted no time in responding.
“Good to see you again, Knight Yurensto. Yes, what you heard is true. This person surpasses me in diagnosing illnesses, and as luck would have it, he’s in the Holy City right now.”
“What a coincidence⋯⋯.”
“Yes, a coincidence. He normally avoids all contact with others and only sees patients through chance encounters, so I couldn’t recommend them to you before. But it seems the Goddess is guiding you. If you’re open to it, I think visiting him would be worthwhile.”
“Ah, I see. Thank you for your kindness and your time, Priest Julius.”
And so, after bouncing between Crazy Wizard’s left and right hands, Cicel eventually found herself standing before the enigmatic, reclusive doctor—along with Karen.
===============================================================
She needed to think.
‘Every time you use Metamorphosis, it carves away your soul, so you’ll eventually die, but not right now.’
That mindset wasn’t enough to make her reflect. She needed to feel an immediate threat.
Cicel Yurensto had grown passive from years of rigid training. She needed something drastic—a monumental shock that would shake her out of her inertia.
People rarely change unless they’re truly backed into a corner. That’s why so many melodramatic plots always start with the protagonist being diagnosed with a terminal illness.
Because people don’t change—unless they’re staring death in the face.
So, I adjusted my glasses like a professional and told her:
“If you use Metamorphosis three more times, you’ll probably die.”
“⋯⋯⋯⋯What?”
“Three times.”
The sudden, undeniable weight of the words drained the color from Cicel’s face—like someone who had just received a terminal diagnosis.
In reality, she had 23 and 0.7 uses left.
***
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