Chapter 31: The Companion at My Table

I had a great, loving family.
They always took care of me, loved me, and gave me everything they could afford.
I had a normal childhood.

Though my dad had to leave—he went out of the city for work most of the time during my childhood.
The school was close, rent was affordable, the neighborhood safe. Nice people. It was a really good place.

Dad used to come home for leaves and festivals, so we never felt completely alone. The people around us were good.
But Mom worried—so there were restrictions. I wasn't allowed to go on school trips or travel out of town for competitions, even though I never won or tried.

She was scared of what would happen to us while Dad was gone, and I couldn't blame her.

Things got harder after the world-wide shutdown. Everyone stayed home. It made me retreat even further.
I stopped talking to my friends when I started college.
I thought they were doing bigger things and wouldn't want to talk to me. I was afraid I'd be a bother.

After half a year I came home. One friend came back too; he asked my brother to tell me to come out and meet them.
I was too scared. I don't know why. I just was.

At university I stopped going out—just back and forth between the dorm and classes. After graduating, it didn't get better. I couldn't reach anyone. The world felt farther and scarier.

Expectations grew: get a job, get it fast. I couldn't tell anyone. The only things that kept me going were Mom's breakfasts and anime.

Then things changed. We moved to the city because my brother's college was closer. The people weren't the same; the neighborhood wasn't the same. Mom changed too—she stopped cooking the meals I liked every morning. Maybe it was practical, but it felt like losing comfort.
She limited me to studying. No more anime, no more manga. Everything that had kept me alive in that overwhelming world was gone.

I never cried. I wasn't allowed to. Every night I had panic attacks. I would wish someone would hug me, listen to me, take care of me—someone I could tell everything to.
There was no one. I tried to forget by sleeping, but the fear came back every night. It was terrifying. It was hard.

In front of me, the girl sat on her knees with her back against the alley wall.
Her voice trembled with regret.

Those emotions hung heavy in the air. I could feel her asking for help; maybe it was only me, remembering my past.
My eyes grew heavy as I looked at her.

My feet began to move.

I walked closer and extended my right hand. She stared at the ground, then when she noticed my hand. Her head lifted; our eyes met.

I was not thinking. I felt too much. My voice came out calm—steady even though my chest felt full—and my lips moved.

After a while, we were standing in front of the same building I had left earlier. The crowd outside had thinned—the day sliding toward evening. The light was softer; shadows stretched like tired animals. A small movement in my arms made me look down. Big, dark eyes blinked up at me.

"Papa… where?" she asked in a small, unsure voice.

"We're still here. Papa will help." I replied.

"Liora is hungry." she said in her childlike way.

"We'll eat soon. We're waiting for someone." I said, keeping my voice level.

The guild door opened and the vampire girl stepped out—white hair, red eyes, now without the maroon cloak. She moved with a quiet, careful grace.

"Let's go." she said.

"Liora, this is Eva. She'll travel with us." I told Liora. "Eva, this is Liora—my daughter."

"Hello, Liora." Eva smiled gently, and her voice was softer than I expected. Liora grabbed the hem of my shirt and pressed close, wary of the unfamiliar face. Eva's smile faltered into a puzzled softness.

"We'll stay at an inn tonight and leave tomorrow." I said.

"I know a good one. Follow me," Eva replied.

We walked. The sun dipped lower and cooled the air as evening settled. The inn's sign came into view: The Silver Lantern Inn, its brass letters catching the last of the light. Smoke curled from the chimney, carrying the smell of roasting meat and spices—comfort that wrapped around the city's hard edges.

Inside, the common room glowed with candlelight. Tables were scattered across the floor, people leaning close in conversation, the clatter of cutlery punctuating low laughter. The air smelled of bread, broth, and something sweet—baked fruit maybe—layered over the tang of a hundred travelers' sweat and the iron edge of armor.

We moved to the front desk and stepped into the current of warmth. The inn felt like a small island of home against the vast, indifferent city outside.

A woman stood behind the desk—long brown hair, warm brown eyes, wearing a simple shirt and a brown apron. Her presence lent the room a comfortable, homely atmosphere.

"Welcome to the Silver Lantern Inn." she said, voice like warm tea.

"We would like two rooms for one night." I replied in a calm voice.

"Would you like breakfast included?" she asked.

"Yes." I answered.

"It smells nice." Eva murmured, breathing in the inn's steaming air.

"We're just finishing dinner. Would you like to order now?" the woman asked.

"Yes, please." I replied.

"The room with breakfast will be five silver and eight copper coins." she said.

I slipped my hand into my pocket, produced the coins from my inventory, and placed them on the counter.

"Thank you. Please take a seat at that table in the corner." She pointed toward a round wooden table near the room's edge.

We moved across the common room and sat. The tables were round and worn smooth where elbows had rested for years. Conversation swelled around us—low, friendly, and dappled with the clink of cutlery.

"Hey, look at the girl. She's beautiful." a drunk man slurred from a nearby table.

"I think I've seen her somewhere." a softer voice replied.

"Maybe in your dreams." a heavy voice joked, and the room laughed.

"Ignore the annoying ones." I said to Eva.

"Yeah. I won't hide anymore." she answered, a quiet steadying in her tone.

A waitress approached. "What would you like to eat?"

I glanced at Eva. "We'll have the Stonepot Boar Curry, some bread, and Moonfruit Custard," she said.

"I'll get your order shortly." the waitress promised and moved away.

Liora sat patiently on my lap, eyes large and trusting. I stroked her hair and smiled as she looked up at me.

After a few minutes the food arrived. The server set the tray down with a soft clatter.

First came the Stonepot Boar Curry—steam blooming from the black clay pot, a heady perfume of cumin, roasted chiles, and slow-smoked meat. Chunks of boar pulled apart with the lightest prod, their edges charred and glistening; the sauce was thick and golden-brown, flecked with green herbs and flaked red pepper. The stonepot's deep, wood-smoke note sat beneath the spices like an echo from the mountain hearth.

Beside it, a basket of hearthbread: a golden crust that crackled as the loaf yielded, the crumb warm and yielding, still faintly oily from butter. The buttery scent braided with the curry's spice into something simple and sacred.

Finally, the Moonfruit Custard gleamed under the candlelight—pale, silvery cream topped with translucent blue fruit slices that shimmered as if holding a sliver of moonlight. Its aroma was light and floral, a whisper of night-blooming jasmine that cut clean through the curry's weight.

Together the meal smelled like home and travel and the tiniest trace of enchantment—comfort for people who'd been on the road or in danger all day.

We ate. Liora chewed dutifully, neither overly thrilled nor upset—just content with the food placed before her.

After dinner we climbed the narrow stairs to the rooms. Eva's door sat right beside ours; she paused at her threshold before stepping inside.

Our room was small but tidy: a bed, a wooden table, a wash basin, and a few pegs with spare blankets. The bed smelled faintly of lavender and stale coin, the kind of smell inns gather from a lifetime of travelers.

'Sebas.' I ordered.

[ Affirmative, Master. ]

We sat on the bed while a small plate of bread and purple jam was set before Liora.

"JAM!" she shouted, reaching eagerly for the slice.

She sank her teeth in and clapped both small hands to her cheeks as flavor burst across her face.

"PAPA! PAPA! Thwis is—" she babbled, mouth smudged with purple.

"Yes, this is a new jam." I said, smiling as I watched the curious light in her eyes. The purple stained her lips like a gentle bruise.

"It's made from blackberry. Do you like it?" I asked.

"Liora wuvs it." she replied, grin wide.

"Liora, about Papa's friend." I began, fumbling for the words.

"She has same hair as papa." Liora observed innocently.

"Yeah. She… she has no family. So… can she come with us?" I managed, the sentence awkward at the edges.

Liora paused mid-chew, looked up, and simply nodded.

I ruffled her hair and pulled her close. After a while we both lay back on the bed. The moon had climbed, silvering the window; the night air drifted cool and soft through the open frame. From the street below came the muffled chorus of late travelers and a distant cart wheel's creak.

Eva sat on the edge of the window, one knee hooked, watching the street. Wind threaded through her hair, lifting the white strands and setting them like a halo in the moonlight.

'I wonder how she would look under that moonlight. White hair is a great combo for it.' I thought, curious.

A small, awkward pulse pricked me. 'I wonder why. Why I did that. Do I like her? ' I thought, trying to sort a feeling that wouldn't name itself.

Liora clutched my shirt, yawning as sleep pulled at her eyelids. She curled against me and, already half-asleep, mumbled and began to breathe slow and even.

'No…. It would have been true if it was before I met Liora. ' I thought, and a small, tired smile touched my face.

The wind eased and the window creaked closed on a soft draft. We let the quiet keep us—two fragile lights under the same small roof.

to be continued…

Author's Note:

Thank you so much for reading this chapter. I know it might feel a little empty, and I completely understand. I’ve been going through some things lately, so my head hasn’t been fully clear. But don’t worry—I’ll be back on track soon and will deliver the good stuff you’re waiting for.

Thanks again for your patience and support, it really keeps me going!