In a Civilized Manner

Something was wrong with Roos.

It was a conclusion that Edris ended up within the week following their mirsuns expedition.

Ever since that night at the geyser, the woman had been acting strange. Though they’d only spent half a year together, he could read her well enough by now to know when something was off.

Roos was trying hard to act like her usual self—hyper, spontaneous, carefree—but Edris often caught her zoning out. Her vibrant energy seemed to have dulled, like she’d aged decades overnight.

Whenever he asked what was wrong, Roos would just shake her head with a smile, brushing him off. It was clear she was hiding something, but she wasn’t letting him in.

Some nights, he’d hear her calling someone on her infuser orb. Sounded like another woman, someone she was quite close to, hearing the way her intonations curved comfortably, without any extra adornments or exclamations one would use when talking to strangers.

But no matter how close Edris leaned toward her door, he couldn’t make out the conversation. The words were always muffled, almost like a spell had been cast to obscure them. It wasn’t like Roos to be so secretive.

In her absence—both mentally and physically—Edris ended up taking on more of the daily tasks around the cabin. Chores, shopping, whatever needed doing. Roos, usually so full of life, now wandered about aimlessly somewhere faraway or holed up in her room for hours.

Then, one night, the woman appeared out of nowhere, just as Edris was about to pick up fresh bakeries from the Alderwynn Dessert House. She leaned against the doorway, watching him closely, her face carrying that strange expression again.

“Make me a meal,” she said.

Edris scoffed, glancing over his shoulder. "What? Not afraid of me poisoning you anymore?"

She shrugged, a ghost of her usual smirk tugging at her lips. "I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt. My chances don’t come easily, so cherish it."

At her blatant arrogance, Edris rolled his eyes but still turned to the kitchen.

Absentmindedly, he began chopping vegetables, keeping one eye on her as she sat at the table, occasionally glimpsing in his direction. It was odd, seeing her so still. The silence between them was unsettling, aside from the rhythmic sound of the knife clashing with the cutting board. He wasn’t sure if he should be annoyed or worried.

After a while, Edris brought the dishes out. They looked more intricate than usual, the vibrant greens and oranges of the vegetables almost appetising, complemented by a pot of meat stew, out of which arose a rich aroma of Adalarian spices.

“At least your plating skills had improved.” Roos raised an eyebrow as she picked up her spoon.

Edris eyed her flatly, anticipating her next series of actions. Usually, the woman would sniff the food, take a bite reluctantly, and grimace.

Under his speculating gaze, Roos spooned a decent portion of one dish and shoved it into her mouth without hesitation.

Predictably, she gagged the next second.

Edris stared at her, expression deadpan.

"..."

Roos coughed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Yeah, this is disgustingly disgusting, as always."

Edris continued to watch her, silently waiting for her to spit the food out. But instead, she scooped up another bite. Then another. Despite her complaints, she merely kept eating.

Now, even Edris knew something was definitely wrong.

He pulled out a chair and sat across from her, knocking on the wooden table to get her attention. She glanced up, mid-bite.

"Are you going to die or something?"

Roos stiffened, staring down at her food in silence. Edris’s question hung in the air. He hadn’t sugarcoated it, his voice casual but direct, the way Roos had always spoken to him.

The silence stretched between them for a beat too long before Roos burst into laughter. She pounded her chest, nearly choking on the food she’d been eating, tears in her eyes from the force of her laughter.

"You little brat," she gasped, once she caught her breath. "Speaking to your teacher like that when she’s still young and oozing with charisma? Are you cursing me?"

Edris tilted his head, unimpressed. "Then why are you acting like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like… this.” Edris narrowed his eyes. “Are you leaving?"

Roos looked at him, her laughter fading. A shadow passed through her eyes, but only for a moment.

She leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling, her lips twitching into a faint smile. "Since when did you overthink so much?"

Without waiting for a response, she ruffled his hair roughly, messing it up in the process. Edris winced but didn’t pull away. He felt the slight tremble in her hand.

"Cut it out," he muttered, trying to push her hand away, but Roos just laughed again, the sound tinged with something softer, sadder.

She was still hiding something, but given the unsettling feeling in his chest, Edris decided to let it go.

It was a decision he’d come to regret.

Looking back, Edris realised he hadn’t been overthinking at all.

That same night, while sleeping, he heard a creak in the floorboards. Edris had always been a light sleeper, and by the soft weight of each step, he knew it was Roos.

The curtains lifted gently, stirred by the breeze flowing in from the open window. The temperature had risen lately, and Roos had suggested letting in fresh air to cool the room.

Now, the twilight wind rustled through, filling the quiet space with a calm that seemed so far from the unease inside him.

The woman tiptoed toward his bedside, her figure silhouetted in the dim light of the moon. She leaned forward, her weight shifting onto one knee against the edge of his bed.

A soft surge of energy spiralled around her, the faint glow illuminating her face in the darkness. Her eyes, usually bright and mischievous, now glowed with a pale green light.

She raised her hand, her index and middle finger poised to press against his forehead. But just as her fingers were about to touch him, Edris’s eyes snapped open.

There she was—Roos, her familiar face inches from his. But what struck him was the look on her face, overwhelmed by an unprecedented sense of fragility. Her eyes were brimming with tears, the wetness glistening under the soft glow of moonlight.

For the first time, Edris saw Roos cry.

A single tear rolled down her cheek and splattered onto his face.

"You..." Edris's voice caught in his throat, his mind unable to process what he was seeing.

Roos smiled—a crooked, snarky grin that seemed completely unfitting with the rest of her face. Her tears fell freely, but her lips curled up in defiance of the emotions welling in her eyes.

“Edris, you killed me,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, shaky but laced with that same familiar playfulness. “Remember that.”

Edris’s breath hitched. "...What are you talking about?"

Roos sniffed, her stubbornness shining through even as more tears spilt over. "You killed me... with your cooking."

Edris blinked, stunned.

With his cooking?

What was the woman on about?

"You killed me with your cooking." Roos said again, mustering a weak smile in response. “And to make up for it, you’ll have to be a good person for the rest of your life.”

He frowned, still trying to make sense of the situation. "Roos, I don’t know what’s come over you, but who do you think you are to—"

“I’m your teacher,” she interrupted, quiet but firm. “Remember that.”

Then, before Edris could say another word, she smiled through her tears and gently pressed her fingers to his forehead.

“I’ll always be your teacher.”

And everything faded into darkness.

***

The following morning, Roos was gone.

Edris woke to an unsettling stillness, the usual clatter of her movements absent from the cabin. He searched, first inside, then outside, then inside again. His steps carried him through the familiar paths of Alderwynn village. But what he found wasn’t Roos.

It was something far more absurd.

Whenever he’d ask someone in the village about the woman, they’d glance at him with plain confusion in their eyes:

“Roos? Who’s that?”

No one seemed to remember.

The butcher, the baker, even the children—all responded with the same question. No one seemed to remember her. Edris’s stomach churned with disbelief.

It didn’t make any sense; it was as if the woman had never existed at all. Every trace of her, wiped clean from the world. No whispers of her name, no echo of her presence.

The old man, Panko, found him wandering the market, his brow furrowed with concern.

"What’s wrong, boy?" Panko asked, his voice filled with paternal warmth.

Edris, his patience already thin, clenched his fists.

“Roos,” he said. “I’m looking for Roos.”

Panko blinked, then cocked his head in deep rumination. His hand went up to brush his beard.

“Roos? Don’t recall any Roos.”

“The woman who rescued me on the raft,” Edris explained with the same words he’d said to many others already. “Young woman wearing a white robe. She has long, green hair and eyes. Always energetic like there’s a thousand things she needed to do in this world.”

“The raft?” The man’s eyes widened in epiphany. “Oh! You mean the time you disappeared and came back injured half a year ago?”

Edris turned to him in silent anticipation, but was only confronted with the old man’s look of puzzlement.

“You were the only one rescued on that raft, though? Definitely no woman.” His words felt like cold steel, mercilessly cutting into Edris’s chest.

"But..." The boy opened his mouth, then shut it. He knew there was no point in arguing.

Roos was gone. Not just physically, but from memory.

As if she had never been here.

Panko placed a wrinkled hand on Edris’s shoulder, his expression softening. “Maybe you’re tired, son. Do you need some medicine? You look pale.”

Edris fought the rising annoyance that gnawed at him. Normally, he’d be amused by the old man’s persistent nagging (since they were usually directed at Roos instead). But today, it grated on him. The constant barrage of questions, the tone of someone who thought he knew better—it was unbearable.

He could feel it. He was about to snap. The retort lay on the tip of his tongue, ready to fire out when Roos’s voice echoed in his mind.

“Be a good person.”

The ridiculousness of her words cooled his temper, like a splash of ice water to his face.

Under the old man’s apprehensive eyes, Edris exhaled, forcing himself to smile.

"Maybe you’re right," he said, forcing the lie out. "I’m just tired. The fatigue might be causing me to imagine things."

But it wasn’t his imagination. It couldn't be.

Edris thought back to the hell of a lie that Roos had whipped up for him to heed her words.

I poisoned her with my cooking, she said?

Edris wanted to laugh.

Such outlandish statements would only come out of her mouth.

Days turned into weeks. Edris returned to the same routines, but they felt hollow in comparison, without the woman he’d grown so accustomed to having in his life.

As he headed to Alderwynn’s morning markets, stall owners would ask if he wanted the usual, yet they always referred to the things Roos used to buy.

At restaurants, the meals that had once been saved for her were now offered to him.

As he passed by villagers, they would prompt him to share gossip about other townspeople, but Edris was never the one who was interested nor knowledgeable in this area.

Roos was nowhere, yet she was everywhere.

This strange limbo persisted for fourteen days, and on the fifteenth, Edris woke up to find that a letter had arrived in the mail—addressed to no other than himself.

From the looks of the content, it was clearly meant for Roos—her mercenary ID number was listed on the document; however, no one seemed to have caught this hole in logic. No one seemed to have considered, even for a moment, why a young child would be registered for the mercenaries.

Yet the situation still turned out like this. The mercenary letter was delivered to him, with his name on it.

Edris ripped open the letter. His name was the only one listed as the invitee.

Dear (to-be) Traveller Edris,

You are invited on a worldwide expedition! That’s right—you! The one holed up in that rickety cabin—don’t act surprised. It’s time to stretch those legs, pack your things (don’t forget the leather pouch), and finally see what the world has to offer. Trust me, it’s more exciting than chopping broccoli.

This isn’t just any trip. This is your journey. You’ll see new kingdoms, taste the finest sweets (Nolmes’s are the best, no bias here), and maybe—just maybe—you’ll discover a little more about yourself along the way. And what’s more? There are much nicer cabins (even bigger—cottages) out there. I hear Nolmes has a few with actual roofs that don’t creak every time the wind blows. Pretty tempting, huh?

Oh, and let’s not forget the desserts. You think you’ve had good sweets here? Zacriya’s got desserts that will make you rethink your entire existence. Limberry pie, frion paste cakes, butter stewed tarts—you’ll be spoiled for choice. They’ll even make you wonder why you ever tolerated my cooking (though we both know my charm made up for that).

So? Why are you still reading? Get going! The world isn’t going to wait, and neither is that dessert stand that’s waiting to be discovered. Trust me, you’ll thank me later when you’re sitting by a stream somewhere other than the little village, eating something other than whatever you’ve been surviving on while I’m gone.

Sincerely,

The One Saving You From a Boring Life (you’re welcome)

Edris stared at the letter for a long time, reading it over and over again, as though the words would come to life if he gawked at it long enough and grow into a human being.

Despite the overly-buoyant wording, it was nonetheless an advertisement for an expedition to "see the world.”

He didn’t need to ask who had sent it. This was Roos’s way of shoving him out into the world, telling him to live and explore, to do what he wanted, not what was expected of him.

But what did he want?

Edris didn’t know.

Hours later, Panko stood outside the cabin. He moved his hand up to knock at the door, only for it to swing open.

The old man sniffed in confusion. He stepped inside, wiping his hands on his apron.

“Edris?” His voice echoed in the small space. “You here, boy? My wife made extra desserts, thought you might like—”

He paused, glancing around. The cabin was empty.

Panko scratched his head, puzzled. "Huh. Where’d he gone off to?"

***

PRESENT DAY — 995 E.E.

Edris blinked, his vision adjusting slowly as the blur of faces around him sharpened. He was seated in a small room filled with people. The air was tense, voices low and steady, all eyes on the board across from him. There, a design map of a familiar maroon building was displayed, the intricate layout unmistakable.

MW Academy.

His heart jumped, though he kept his expression neutral, casting a subtle glance around. The atmosphere suggested a meeting, but there was no immediate sense of context that could hint at what was going on.

What reassured him, though, was the sight of Ace. The white-haired man sat just diagonal to him, his sharp features betraying a similar confusion. Their eyes met briefly, exchanging a knowing glance. Neither of them had any idea what was happening, but a familiar face in the room was better than nothing.

Edris shifted his focus back to the person speaking at the front of the room, gesturing toward the map of the academy. The speaker’s voice was foreign, not anyone he knew. Their words blended into the background noise as Edris's thoughts raced ahead.

He was back.

The realisation settled like a weight in his chest. The second time around, he barely needed to readjust to the environment.

Without wasting time, Edris summoned his [PLAYER] profile, doing so silently with just a shift of his gaze. The translucent panel hovered at the centre of his field of view, familiar data scrolling before him.

PLAYER ID

Edris

LABYRINTH

#53 (MODIFIED)

PLAYER STATUS

Normal

ROLE

Year 4 student at MW Academy.

AFFINITY LEVEL

100%

CARD SLOT

Blazing Torrent

[EMPTY]

[EMPTY]

NOTE: Future card slots may be unlocked as a reward

His title had changed.

Fourth-year student of MW Academy.

He’d be graduating soon.

Edris blinked. It had only been a little over a week since they escaped the Labyrinth as “first-years", but now, according to the Labyrinth’s twisted logic, three years had passed inside its endless depths.

His eyes scanned the details of his profile. It was different from before—cleaner, simpler. No more convoluted tasks or initial quests. Just one glaring quest at the final row of his profile.

Beneath it, an additional line caught his eyes:

MAIN QUEST:

Complete your final journey as a student of MW Academy!

TIME LIMIT: 00:71:59:55

NOTE: To optimise [PLAYER] experience, in the final hour, all Labyrinth restrictions, including mana usage, will be lifted!

“...”

He understood what that meant—absolute chaos. In a place like this, where reality itself could fracture, lifting the restraints on mana meant the players would be able to manoeuvre their skills in the real world here.

The Labyrinth was sending an active invitation to chaos.

Retracting his gaze, Edris redirected his attention to the only window in the small room. He glanced outside. It was night, and the sky was awash in a deep crimson glow. The blood-red moon hung heavy in the sky beyond the window. Last time, it had been purple.

Edris exhaled slowly, the tension settling into his chest. The Labyrinth had pulled him in once more.

And this time, there was no guarantee of escape.