Something Thicker Than Blood

While Edward and Peter were fighting the demon, on the opposite side of the village, the true danger was beginning to take action.

…

Little Helena was sitting under a tree, reading her favorite book, flipping through the pages, and reciting the words of a cheerful children's song.

The wind began to blow through the trees, carrying with it a mysterious whistling sound coming from the forest.

Noticing the whistle, Helena stopped reading and looked around, trying to find the source of the sound, but there was nothing beyond the trees and shadows.

The whistling continued, making the little girl increasingly uneasy, but after a while, she realized it was not just a simple whistle—it was following the melody of the song she had been singing. It was like an echo of her own music, reproducing the song in a simpler, rustic way.

Helena placed the book on the ground and approached the edge of the forest. It wasn't the first time she had read her book there, so she had been warned multiple times by her mother that she must not cross the pedestal that held the amulet.

A few steps from the boundary, she saw a shadow moving between the trees, carrying the sound of the whistling away.

Her childish curiosity was piqued, but she wasn’t foolish enough to cross the boundary and chase after the shadow. An idea crossed her mind—to start singing the rhymes from her book again. Maybe then, there would be some kind of reaction from the other side.

She sang cheerfully, hoping for a response. There were a few seconds of silence, and then, the whistling returned, mimicking her song. What happened next left Helena speechless.

From behind one of the trees, the shadow leaped forward, positioning itself in the middle of a small clearing bathed in sunlight, and Helena could now see it clearly.

The figure resembled a short man, dressed in a top hat and formal attire, as if he had just come from a high-class party.

His face was covered by a white mask that bore a wide grin and a long nose. The mask would have been terrifying to any adult man, but strangely enough, it gave a comical air to the "man" wearing it, making him amusing in the eyes of a child.

Announcing the beginning of his performance, the figure struck a pose, pointing his feet and hands outward. In one hand, he held a branch, improvising a cane, while in the other, he clutched his top hat, bowing carefully to avoid letting the girl notice the horns hidden beneath.

He began to dance fluidly, tapping the soles of his feet against the ground, twirling the cane from side to side, taking small leaps and spins while whistling a livelier version of the song the girl had just taught.

Helena watched the little "spectacle" with enthusiasm, humming along and clapping to the rhythm of the music.

After a few minutes of dancing, the demon stopped, returning to the pose he had started with. He bowed once again in Helena's direction, and she applauded him fervently.

It was too late… The demon had already won the girl’s heart.

This was the true danger of demons who had developed intellect. They became cunning, setting traps and devising strategies to exploit human weaknesses.

Helena was on the verge of crossing the boundary to reach the demon, driven by her childish curiosity. That was when a voice called out from behind her, from a certain distance.

"Helena!... It's time for lunch!" her mother shouted. Helena jumped in panic and ran back to the tree where she had left her book.

Before responding to her mother and heading home, she glanced back toward the forest. The demon was still there, waving at her. With a tip of his hat, he vanished into the shadows.

If Helena hadn't been such a lively child, so curious about the world around her… If she had been more timid and reserved…

No. None of this was her fault. The only one to blame was the demon.

Even if the girl knew he was a demon, or even if she had seen one before, she still could have been deceived.

The sympathy for the devil was bound to happen—if not with her, then with some other unlucky child in the village.

Fearing a scolding from her mother, Helena decided not to tell her about what she had seen in the forest. Her mother's lack of questioning that day, combined with Helena's innocence, would result in a catastrophic outcome.

To outside spectators, it’s easy to see how everything could have been avoided, but it is the small combination of overlooked details and factors that will ultimately culminate in great tragedies.

Was it truly possible to prevent the tragedy to come? Or perhaps it was already predestined to happen, woven into the threads of fate?

…

(During lunch)

"Well, since your training is complete," Belchior paused, "does that mean you're already leaving?"

"What?" Arya was surprised. After processing what Belchior had said, she quickly defended the two. "No! The professor doesn’t have to send them away!"

The three exchanged glances, waiting for someone else to take the initiative to explain the situation to the girl. In the end, Edward took responsibility.

"He’s not sending us away. This was a decision made from the very beginning of our training."

"Huh?"

"Our training only started because we weren’t ready to travel on our own."

"I see…" Arya seemed disappointed.

Edward began to feel uneasy, seeing the sadness on Arya’s face. Doubt started eating away at his thoughts—"Could I stay here with her?", "Should I go back?", "Would she accept coming with me?"—and other questions like that.

"Why don’t you come with us?" Peter asked after chewing his meat.

Arya was caught off guard once again. "G-Go with you?!"

"What's the problem? It's not like you're stuck in the village. If the old man allows it and you want to, I'm sure it's a good idea."

Edward placed his hands on the table in a brief moment of excitement: "Peter! That was… an excellent idea! I-I mean, weren’t the villagers a little rude to you?"

"But they finally accepted me as a member of the village…" the girl shrank into her chair. "Can I really abandon them now that I’ve earned their trust? Besides…"

The girl looked at the chair beside her. Belchior responded: "That’s not something I can decide for you."

Arya lowered her head onto the table, deep in thought. However, Belchior continued speaking, acting as the responsible adult in the house.

"You're making important decisions too impulsively. Stay a little longer and think carefully about the choice you’re about to make. You two can stay here as long as necessary."

After bringing order to the situation, the discussion temporarily ended, and the four of them finished their lunch.

Indecision still lingered in Edward’s heart, and especially in Arya’s—it was a difficult choice for her to make. On one hand, she wanted to stay by Edward’s side, but on the other, she didn’t want to abandon the feeling of finally belonging somewhere.

That was when Belchior called her aside for a private conversation.

"You should leave with them," Belchior remarked.

"What?" The girl didn’t know how to respond to those words.

"Arya, I don’t see a reason for you to stay in this village."

"...Do you think I’m still not welcome?"

"Quite the opposite."

"What do you mean?"

"You're already putting down roots here, forming bonds with the people in the village—but is that really what you want?"

"I… ever since I lost my memories, I’ve felt so distant from the world around me. I just want to have a place to call home. To have a family."

"Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that I or the rest of the village don’t want to see you as family."

"Professor, do you think I should just turn my back on the people who took me in? That’s not something easy to do!"

"You’re being too kind! You’ve already done more than enough to show your gratitude to the people in this village, helping them every day with trivial tasks that aren’t even your responsibility!"

"But that’s the least I can do!"

"You're mistaken. Trying to please people as much as possible doesn’t create a true bond." Belchior paused for a moment before continuing: "Deep down, don’t you have the desire to learn more about your past? To discover who you really are?"

"That’s not true…"

"You can try to hide it, but I’ve noticed it for a while now. You have hope that one day, someone will come looking for you—but staying here doesn’t mean they’ll find you."

"I know… but is there even someone searching for me? I’m afraid that maybe… I don’t have a home to return to. I don’t want to be alone again."

"Arya, you’re not alone anymore."

Belchior pointed out the window. In the distance, Edward and Peter could be seen running around, playing like two children. A flicker passed through Arya’s eyes.

Belchior gently placed his hand on the girl's shoulder. "And don’t worry, you will always have a home to return to. This is your home—don’t ever forget that."

Belchior’s eyes glistened as tears began to well up.

"Arya, you are like a daughter I gained after so long, and I am so grateful for that. But this village, full of old folks like me, has nothing to offer you. You need to seek out your own happiness."

The old mage brought his fingers to his face, wiping away the tears that now fell like a waterfall.

"I know we’ll all miss you, but this is for your own good. It breaks my heart as a father to say goodbye to a daughter again—but at least this time, I have the chance to say farewell."

Arya couldn’t hold back her tears. She knew it was a painful decision, and that the future from now on was uncertain—but she had to overcome her fear of the unknown to search for her own truth.

In a gesture of both affection and sorrow, she clung to Belchior’s chest, crying like a heartbroken child.

"Professor… No… Dad! You’re the best dad in the world!"

Even though she was sweet, sentimental, and kind, Arya had never stopped being a brave girl. She had no past to regret, so she clung tightly to everything she had in the present.

As Arya cried, Belchior placed a hand on her head—a father comforting his daughter’s tears. The weight of this decision hurt him more than it hurt her, but more than anything, he wanted the best for her.

"Arya… I have something to ask of you."

"Yes?"

"I want you to carry the honor of my name with you on this journey. If you don’t mind… stop being just Arya, and become Arya Belchior."

The girl responded with a smile. It was the best parting gift she could ever receive. That simple surname was a testament that she would always have a family to return to.

"Yes. From today on, my name is Arya Belchior."