A call for dinner helped ease the somewhat awkward atmosphere between the two.
Ogre glanced at Macar and decided to remove his mask after all.
Beauty, after all, was something one eventually grew accustomed to seeing.
“Eat more, Sister Gelin,” Maqi said, slicing off a piece of meat with a small silver knife and sliding it over to Ogre. “We’re just a small place, so please make do with what we have.”
She had subconsciously assumed that Ogre had grown up in a comfortable, privileged environment.
This was quite natural.
No matter the social system, beauty was inextricably linked with wealth and power.
The simple food of commoners could hardly raise a child with ruby lips, white teeth, silky hair, and delicate skin.
Innate beauty certainly existed, but upbringing was just as crucial. More often than not, those blessed with such looks were either commodities or members of the nobility.
“Mm...”
Ogre looked at the meager portion of food before him and sighed inwardly with distress.
He had overlooked the issue of food...
‘How is this supposed to be enough? Looks like I'll have to sneak out tonight.’
Ogre nibbled slowly at his portion for the day.
Even out in the wild, he usually maintained his energy stores, keeping himself roughly seventy percent full at all times.
But now, to maintain his disguise, he had to settle for being less than half-full.
‘As expected of someone directly from the Church hierarchy... She even looks miserable eating such delicious meat,’ Maqi observed silently as Ogre ate.
She noticed that Ogre didn't seem happy with his meal at all.
‘Looks like my brother really doesn't stand a chance...’
...
Night fell.
Ogre sat up from the soft bed in his room.
‘As expected, I'm still more accustomed to firmer beds...’ Ogre rubbed his neck and walked over to the window.
‘No one should notice me now.’
Ogre picked up his mask and the Sister's habit that had been delivered earlier. Though their ability to conceal him was limited, they were better than nothing.
A simple black Sister's habit was far better for obfuscating his identity than high-waisted skirts and stockings.
Unfastening his hair, he casually tied it into a ponytail, completing his “disguise” for the night.
Ogre gently pushed open the window and surveyed his surroundings.
Confirming that the coast was clear, he leaped down and landed silently.
Moments later, he melted into the darkness of the night.
Meanwhile, in a second-floor room, Macar—who had been resting with his eyes closed—opened them.
He glanced upward, then lowered his head.
“Is Gelin still awake...? Makes sense. Traveling alone in a strange land, it's only natural she'd be uneasy.”
Macar had originally intended to have Maqi share a room with Ogre, but after Ogre's “shy” refusal, he had given her her own space.
“Tomorrow, I'll take Lady Gelin to buy some books... I wonder if she likes roses...” Macar pulled a pocket watch from his coat.
He popped it open, revealing a pendant hidden inside.
It was a keepsake left behind by his mother, who had passed away early—meant for his future wife.
Macar had never brought himself to give it away.
After a moment of hesitation, he tucked it back away.
“Better wait a little longer...”
...
Meanwhile, Sister “Gelin,” the object of Macar's lingering thoughts, was already out in the wilderness under the veil of night.
The village's night security was nowhere near as tight as a city's, making it effortless for someone of Ogre's skill to slip out.
“Finally, I can get something to eat...”
Ogre scooped up a raw fish from the water and began eating it on the spot.
After devouring two of them, he picked a few ripe fruits from nearby trees.
“In another two months, when the cold spell hits, there won't even be tree fruit left to eat.”
Ogre wiped a fully ripened fruit and bit into it.
The fruits had only ripened in the past couple of days; the green fruits on the trees earlier weren't actually a green species, just unripened.
Of course, the fruit still tasted terrible, but its nutritional value was higher now, its flavor shifting from purely astringent and bitter to a chaotic weave of bitter, sweet, and sour...
After munching through a few, Ogre picked several more and stowed them into the inner pockets of his Sister's habit—saving them for breakfast.
Having replenished his energy, Ogre stretched his limbs. After sitting still for most of the day, his body felt a little stiff.
Normally, Ogre was either training or fighting.
Being made to sit idle for an entire day was something he truly wasn't used to.
“Time to hunt down those fleeing variants.”
Ogre quickly settled on his destination.
He could guarantee that one place would definitely yield clues: the graveyard.
...
Because of its proximity to the Forest of Monsters, the local villagers had gradually let go of their obsession with maintaining graveyards over many migrations.
After all, no one knew if the biennial beast tide would wipe out their village.
So far, no village had ever survived ten beast tides without being destroyed. Besides, beast tides aside, raiders of various races and human bandits posed constant threats to small and medium-sized villages.
Station a gravekeeper? What would be the point? When the living had no guarantee of survival, who had time to care about the dead?
The village graveyard...
Calling it a graveyard was overly generous; it was more like a mass grave.
Only in well-defended towns and cities would one find dedicated gravekeepers and corpse-stitchers.
‘Did I come to the wrong place? Why haven't I run into any variants yet? Maybe I should ask a black market merchant instead...’
Ogre had already taken off his mask. He figured it might make any variants hiding in the shadows hesitate—after all, a witch had just been burned at the stake.
But to claim that all the variants in the village were dead was absurd.
Leaving aside whether the Church of Dawn was even capable of total eradication, even if they could, Ogre doubted they would thoroughly wipe them all out.
Only Knights and Clerics who had suffered deeply at the hands of variants would hold an obsession for total extermination.
‘Even if the ones in the village are gone, there should still be outsiders coming in... Or are they lying low out of fear of the Cleric stationed in the village?’
Ogre pondered.
Aside from taking care of a perverted thug earlier, he had gained nothing from this trip so far.
‘Targeting variants that try to run away would actually be easier to kill right now, plus they still need to feed...’
Ogre felt his logic was sound.
There was no reason he should be coming up empty-handed.
“Oh? A Sister? What is a little girl like you doing here?” a voice called out from the darkness.
Ogre turned and focused his eyes, spotting the newcomer a short distance away.
It was a hunter holding a pitchfork.
‘Interesting. My enhanced vision didn't even notice him just now...’
Under his hood, Ogre's lips curled upward. Finally, he had found something.
“A shadow demon...?” Ogre stated the hunter's true identity. Not many creatures could evade his eyes in the dark.
Ogre's words caught the hunter off guard, leaving him stunned on the spot.
But a moment later, a sinister smile spread across his face. “What a cute little girl. I was planning to let you go, but since you've figured out what I am, I can't let you live.”
Swish—!
A pebble tore through the air and embedded itself firmly into the hunter's forehead.
“If you're going to attack, then attack. Cut the chatter.”
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