Departure

Town Courtesy | Mansion | Living Room | Next Day

The living room is aglow with soft sunlight from the open windows. On the sofa, Jenna sits close to Hanla, her hand resting on her daughter’s.

“Cezaria… tomorrow you’ll leave. Before you go, I need to tell you something.” Jenna takes a breath, her blue summer dress fluttering slightly. “I’m pregnant.”

Hanla smiles faintly. “I know. Dad told me.”

Jenna’s face flushes red. “That idiot! He can’t keep his mouth shut!”

Hanla bursts into laughter. “So? Boy or girl?”

“I’m hoping for a girl.” Jenna says, puffing up her cheeks. “Since you were always so boyish and never the princess type.”

“Hey—” Hanla grins and shrugs. “I want a little sister too.”

“Your father, of course, wants a boy.”

“Yeah, he told me that too. But no matter what—they’ll be family, and I’ll love them.”

Jenna’s eyes soften, though worry lingers in their depths. “Cezaria… do you really want to go? You could stay here—”

Jenna‘s voice cracks.

“You know, you always took care of Harima. Even when she was hurt… without you, she would have lost her limbs. I’m scared. Scared of the abilities my children carry.”

Without hesitation, Hanla wraps her mother in her arms.

“Harima’s strong. She’ll manage it. And you—Mom—you’re safe. This village is full of badasses.”

Jenna’s laugh escapes like a broken dam.

“Certified badass here.” Harima announces as she struts into the room, spinning in her yellow summer dress.

“Certified swordsman of the Regona family here!” Chays declares grandly, stepping in with his glassy blue greatsword slung across his shoulder. “Also known as… badass Chays.”

“Ohh, Chays,” Jenna mutters darkly.

She pulls away from Hanla’s hug and shoots her husband a death glare.

“You told Hanla I’m pregnant.”

Harima raises her hand like a witness in court. “Oh, he told me too!”

“Uh—” Chays freezes, then immediately bolts for the hallway.

“CHAYS!” Jenna roars, chasing after him.

Hanla leans back on the sofa, watching the chaos unfold with a bittersweet smile.

This life… it’s good. Peaceful, even. The real Cezaria would have probably loved it. But it's just not for me. These quiet days without risk, without purpose—they make my chest ache. Peace feels suffocating. I know it’s selfish. Maybe it’s ego. But I can’t sit still. I want more.

Harima plops down beside her, resting her chin in her hands. “So… tomorrow’s the day. The ferry’ll take you.”

“Yeah. And Harima—when I come back, you better be able to beat me. I want you to be a strong creator with real magic skills.”

Harima smirks. “Of course. I even have a name ready: Glass.”

Hanla blinks. “…That’s weird.”

“It’s simple, clear, and cool!”

Hanla points at her. “Then why call me HANLA THE DRAGONFIST?!”

Harima leans back with a smug grin. “Because that’s even COOLER!”

Hanla groans, clutching her forehead. “Unbelievable…”

Town Courtesy | Training Grounds | Morning

The training grounds echo with the sound of fists against wood. Hanla, drenched in morning sweat, drives her bare knuckles into the training doll. With a final uppercut, the doll’s head snaps clean off, bouncing across the dirt.

Joachim crosses his arms, standing beside her. Sebastian stretches his shoulders nearby, equally massive.

“So,” Joachim says with a smirk, “training without abilities today? How about the two of us against you?”

Hanla wipes her brow, silver eyes gleaming. “Sure. Don’t hold back.”

The brothers move in. Sebastian darts forward first, his sidekick cutting through the air. Joachim follows, fist aimed straight for her jaw.

Hanla takes the punch head-on, her body absorbing the impact like stone, she is only pushed away slightly, but it allows her to dodge the incoming kick…

“Good punch.”

Her right fist whips around in a blur, cracking Joachim square in the face. Blood sprays from his nose as he crashes to the ground. Without pause, Hanla leaps high, driving her heel down on Sebastian. He throws his arms up to block, but the force rattles him to the bone. A sharp thump echoes—his head hit—before he collapses beside his brother.

The twins groan on the dirt.

“You’ve gotten brutal,” Sebastian mutters, clutching his ribs. “That you learned kickboxing from me was a mistake. Ouch…”

Joachim spits blood and laughs. “That’s our beast. But your training is crazy, Hanla. Five hours every day… letting the healer patch up whatever you can’t heal yourself… then back at it again.”

Hanla exhales, rolling her shoulders. “I have to. My ability is close-range. If I don’t push my body beyond its limits, I’ll never keep up. You were my teachers, so you should know that.”

She raises her fist toward the sky, her voice firm.

“I read a story once. About a nameless reaper. Cold. Ruthless. Yet still with a heart. I want to be like him—someone who takes risks, and when I strike, it’ll be merciless.”

Sebastian laughs despite the pain. “Ouch…”

Joachim props himself up on one elbow, watching her. “The way you look right now… yeah. You’re ready, Hanla the Dragonfist.”

The rising sun spills gold across the grounds. Hanla’s long white hair gleams like silver fire, sweat glistening on her skin. Her eyes burn with unshakable confidence. She smiles, not with arrogance—but with resolve.

Town Courtesy | Mansion | Bathroom | One Hour Later

The bathroom gleams with gold ornaments, dragon-shaped sculptures spouting warm water into the vast marble bath. Steam curls through the air.

Hanla slips off her clothes and flexes in the mirror, tracing the lines of her toned muscles.

“My last bath here.” she mutters with a sigh. “I’ll miss it all. But… I’m kinda proud of this body. Way better than in my previous life.”

She lowers herself into the bath. The heat seeps into her sore muscles, and her eyes drift shut. In the darkness, she sees them again—three women, standing together, their voices rising in song.

Softly, Hanla hums along, then lets the words escape her lips:

“No ones, nobodies—
Are we unfit to survive?
State-made puppets on a wire—
We cut the line!
We are something: scars of steel,
Darkness, blindness—yet we feel.
At the edge a final light burns,
Last hope that darkness will be turned.
We stand, we shout, we breathe aloud,
And fate will never drag us down!”

Her voice echoes faintly against the walls.

Hanla opens her eyes, staring at the rippling water. “This song… it won’t fade. It’s burned into my mind. Those girls… their commitment. It never leaves me.”

She looks at her arms, her expression softening with melancholy.

“A world full of secrets. And today… it’s finally time.”

Her fist clenches above the water.

“No more just writing articles. In this life… I can ACT!”

In spite of herself, her mind drifts. I never even checked the music here. Was I too focused on training? Do they have pop? Rock? Jazz? Maybe… I could invent smooth jazz. I can play the saxophone, after all. Music and fights—yeah, that’s my vibe.

She laughs to herself.

Ohhh, I’m thinking too much. Wasn't I just clenching my fist? I should have badass thoughts. For my first guild member… I need someone strong, someone cool. Yes! I need an EDGELORD! Black hair, dark eyes, mysterious ability, brooding aura. With an edgy weapon—like a cursed blade or something! Yes, that’s it!

Hanla bursts out laughing at her own idea.

She climbs out of the bath, droplets tracing her toned abs. After drying off, she throws on a white crop top, a black leather jacket and wide black pants, cinched with a white scarf. Her long hair spills loosely over her shoulders.

She plants herself in front of the mirror, striking a pose. With a snap of her fingers, she declares:

“That’s a badass!”

She chuckles at her reflection, shaking at her own antics.

Town Courtesy | Mansion | Hanla’s Room

A simple black bag rests on the bed, filled with only a few changes of clothes and a small wooden box of rare stones and scales. Hanla slings it over her shoulder, sighing.

“As an adventurer, I need to travel light.” she mutters. “I guess that part never changes. Even back when I was a journalist, I only had—”

“Journalist?” asks Harima out of nowhere.

Hanla's face turns pale. Harima is standing at the door.

“Eh—uh—truth searcher,” Hanla blurts out.

Harima tilts her head, then nods. “Never heard that word. Are you finished, Cezaria—or should I call you—”

“Today… Cezaria.” Hanla cuts in, smiling faintly. “That’s my name here, after all.”

Harima’s lips tremble. “It really is goodbye today…”

Hanla places a hand over her chest, nodding quietly.

Together, they step into the living room, where Jenna and Chays are waiting.

“Cezaria,” Jenna says softly, “Let’s walk there together.”

Chays adds firmly, “Time to go.”

Hanla forces a smile, her heart heavy. “Sure, Mom, Dad.”

Harima takes Hanla’s hand. “Let’s go, Cezaria.“

The family walks the streets, their steps carrying them to the harbor.

Town Courtesy | Docks

The docks are alive with the bustle of passengers and sailors preparing to leave. The ocean breeze ruffles the crowd.

Hanla’s family arrives to find Jakob waiting. The old captain tips his black hat, his beard glistening with saltwater.

“Cezaria— pardon me I mean HANLA THE DRAGONFIST we set sail in ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes?!” Chays snaps, his voice loud.

From behind, more familiar figures step forward—Sebastian and Joachim in their white training tank tops, John the jeweler with his pointed mage hat, and even the doctor with his monocle.

Children break through the crowd. The red-haired boy throws his arms around Hanla.

“Hanla, we’ll miss you!”

The blue-haired girl calls out, voice cracking. “Cezaria, make our village proud!”

Soon the docks overflow with villagers—merchants, guards, smiths, even farmers. One by one, they bow their heads and say their goodbyes.

Chays steps forward, his voice carrying over the waves.

“Cezaria Regona, daughter of Jenna Regona, third Queen of Regona… today, we grant you permission to leave. To live not as a noble, but as yourself. From this moment on, you are free.”

Hanla stares, heart thundering, then bows her head. “Father… thank you.”

Jenna steps forward, her voice trembling. “As a Queen of Regona, I release you from title and duty. From now on, you are simply Cezaria. But—” her composure breaks, tears overflowing, “you will always be my daughter.”

She throws her arms around Hanla, clinging tight.

“Mom…” Hanla whispers, fighting back her own tears.

Harima hugs her next, crying openly. “I’ll work hard too, to become the most influential Princess… but Cezaria, I’ll miss you so much!”

The crowd cries out in unison:

“Thank you for everything, Cezaria Regona!”

The voices of the whole village echo out on the water.

Sebastian and Joachim step forward, saluting.

“I, Sebastian, Deputy Headmaster of the Knights of Regona, wish you a safe journey,” Sebastian says solemnly.

“And I, Joachim, Headmaster of the Knights of Regona,” the elder adds, “declare you an honorary knight. Should your dream shatter, you may always return to serve Regona.”

Hanla laughs through the sting in her eyes. “I’ll miss you all.”

She bumps fists with them both, then with Chays as well.

“Because of you all,” she says, her voice thick with emotion, “I can fight. Because of you all, I love this life.”

From the sideline, the old man with the monocle clears his throat. His white robe sways in the sea breeze as he smirks.

“Cezaria Regona,” he says, “I will not miss you—because thanks to you I’ve been forced to do endless overtime.” He chuckles, eyes twinkling. “Jokes aside… it was quite enjoyable, and always a challenge to patch you up. You’ve kept my work far from boring.”

Hanla laughs, bowing her head. “Thanks, Doc. And thank you for enduring my antics.”

The healer bows deeply in return, a wide smile spreading across his wrinkled face. “Time for our goodbye.”

Jakob steps forward then, his heavy hand resting on Hanla’s shoulder. “Time to set sail.”

The crowd bows their heads one last time as the ferry ropes are released.

Hanla steps onto the wooden ferry and the ship sails off.

From the deck, she raises her hand high and waves. Everyone on the docks waves back and shouts their goodbyes.

She whispers to the wind,“Cezaria Regona, daughter of the third Queen… sorry. I can’t fulfill your role. I’m starting a new arc now. I am Hanla, the Dragonfist.”

Her face burns red, and she groans. “This name is so embarrassing… but I’ll carry it with honor, Harima.”

The ship creaks as it cuts through the waves. Hanla looks back one last time at her family shrinking on the docks, then turns toward her future.