Chapter 94

In the season of autumn, rain still comes. On rainy days, Evangelin feels a twinge of envy for someone. She doesn’t go out of her way to show her feelings, knowing well what the rain triggers in her heart. Especially when thunder and lightning strike, Evangelin naturally worries about Anne, who has brought her calming tea countless times. It’s a long-standing friendship where inner thoughts are often shared.

“Jack.”

Calling out, Evangelin walks along the road under the drizzling autumn rain. The quiet song of raindrops gently soaking the ground accompanies the late sun rising slowly as autumn sets in.

Even though it’s the same time as summer, the mix of gray and blue creates a dim atmosphere.

“Hehe.”

Jack’s laughter pierces through the rain, sounding fresh to Evangelin, causing her umbrella to tilt slightly more towards him, unaware that her shoulder is getting wet.

Recalling why Jack lost his voice brings nothing but painful memories—sad, confusing, and filled with moments where he wanted to collapse. But memories aren’t always romanticized; for Evangelin, they’re something you rise above, not transform into joy.

Rather, current happiness overlays those thoughts, lessening them somewhat.

“Hmm…”

It sounds familiar. Evangelin doesn’t know which melody or rhythm this tune follows, merely humming along naturally after Minho. It’s catchy and enjoyable, spreading faintly through the rain as she hums.

“Auuu…”

The deep sound resonating from his throat. Knowing Jack’s pitch can’t match her humming, yet he finds joy in trying, makes her happy.

People live with their identities. For Evangelin, being Jack’s older sister is her biggest identity—cherishing the brother who saved her life and willing to do anything for his happiness. In this regard, Minho stands as a towering tree supporting Evangelin’s identity.

Creating a comfortable environment for Jack to play and allowing him to happily interact with spirits fulfills her. Every moment delights her, watching from outside tables while time slips unnoticed. Happiness spreads unconsciously.

“Are you here?”

Drip-drop—the lukewarm sound of raindrops falling. Minho always greets Evangelin warmly.

“Aaaauu…”

“Hello, Jack too?”

Smiling brightly, Minho greets Jack as well.

“Would you like breakfast?”

Expectation builds even knowing the answer will be positive. Acceptance brings a delightful thrill.

“Sure. Let’s eat together.”

Isn’t it obvious? Perhaps, fate.

Thinking so, Evangelin heads to the kitchen.

The soft clinking sound. Nowhere feels more familiar than here. She’s even adjusted parts of the kitchen to suit her workflow. By usage frequency alone, calling it Evangelin’s kitchen rather than Minho’s would be more accurate. That’s how familiar and frequent it is.

Naturally, envisioning a shared future arises. Today’s unusual palpitations might be due to the rhythm of rain matching her heartbeat. Trying to shake off the thought by shaking her head only flutters her red hair, blurring her vision. Useless effort—it’s embedded.

Chop-chop—

She carefully slices ingredients. The precise rhythm of the sharp blade keeps her mind somewhat blank.

That was her mistake. Knowing full well not to let her mind wander while cooking, yet thoughts of him keep resurfacing today.

“Ouch…”

Blood seeps out. Cutting her finger, she stifles a cry, not wanting Jack and Minho to worry.

“What happened?”

Why does he have such keen hearing? Her attempt to quickly wash away the red wound under running water fails as Minho grabs her arm.

“Did you cut yourself?”

“Yes…”

A forest scent emanates from him—refreshing and clear, harmless yet alluring. Maybe that’s why children and animals like him.

He pulls her hand closer to examine the wound, sending a tiny thrill through her.

“…Heal.”

An itchy sensation. Soft, warm magic envelops her finger in green light.

It’s magic.

Interacting with mages frequently, he’s already learned magic, feeling surprisingly natural now.

Truly…

Such a versatile man. Hard to keep up with him.

“Does it hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

“If cooking is difficult, I’ll do it.”

“No, I’ll finish. Thank you.”

Her now healed finger surprises her slightly. Not reacting too much so Minho won’t feel awkward.

No blood remains, just clean white skin like when she held Jack’s hand walking in earlier.

More carefully now, focusing solely on cooking, she finishes breakfast without repeating mistakes.

When morning ends, quiet solitary time arrives. Tidying up the not-so-cluttered house, she quietly looks outside in his absence.

If it weren’t raining, she’d watch Jack playing outside, but now she’s content glancing inside at him rolling around happily with spirits, covered in dirt. Watching him laugh naturally draws a smile.

It’s a happy daily routine. Wishing for this everyday life to continue is natural. Evangelin’s blossoming feelings are a natural phenomenon.

Even the gruff, slightly rough person is gradually warming up. The strange distance or wall between them fades. That’s how it feels.

Bit by bit, very subtly, they’re getting closer.

Advancing even one step feels satisfying. Better to move steadily than rush and fall.

—

On the 14th, city transactions were completed, securing gold.

On the 18th, royal transactions ended. Selling some wheat and rice earned quite a bit of gold. About a million gold during autumn alone, considering the number of crops grown.

Harvesting more means accumulating overwhelming amounts of experience. Farming skill levels reflect this. With triple experience effect, it’s significant.

Before wheat and rice grew, around early-mid autumn (12-13th), they stalled but then exploded in growth.

By the 19th day of autumn, farming is nearing high-level 8.

The golden waves of wheat create a serene autumn scene on the farm, making the heart feel abundant just by looking.

As farming levels increase, health and action speed improve. Recently, I rarely felt tired, confident I can stay up for a night or two without fatigue. My body seems stronger.

Skill leveling means physical changes, fortunately all positive.

I absentmindedly glance at the skill bead in my pocket. What skill should I get?

Generally, skills solve immediate problems. Key issues: finding Earth and returning.

Space-related magic comes to mind. Dimensional magic further.

While pondering how to master these, I suddenly think of the system assisting me.

This system.

My assistant function.

Could it become a separate skill?

Fortunately, the bead responds positively, aligning with my greatest wish.

[Create a skill?]

[Skill: System]

After deliberation, my conclusion is that.

Whether I stay in this world or leave, I’ll maintain this system to find all possible ways.

Agreement.

Thus, the basic level 1 system appears in my skill list around lunchtime on the 19th day of autumn.

—

Whispering memories and experiences of Shadow Yoo-hae hint that system assistance will gradually fade upon choosing.

[Choose!]

[1. Continue living in Valley of Starwind.]

[2. Pursue ending to return.]

Hmm.

Being forced to choose isn’t preferable. If reasonable, I’ll follow, otherwise I won’t fear breaking boundaries.

Basic level 1 system feels odd.

Attached to my body, accessible anytime, no longer needing sleep at home to use the system.

Though locked items exist at this level, consistent use will expand access.

Feels like returning to basics but liberating from suppression.

Even if part of the system, controlling it directly feels different.

Previously, dreams were used without control.

Options flash enticingly, urging me to pick one.

Now, I want to stay here more.

But human desire isn’t fully satisfied by one choice. Civilization grows from using greed to achieve something.

Wanting everything.

Alright.

I won’t settle for one. Risk follows greed naturally.

[1. Continue living in Valley of Starwind.]

Pressing with my finger, a mocking “pik” sound echoes.

Words crumble. The world breaks, my dream dims.

Known information—choosing causes the system to gradually break.

But my held skill remains unbroken. Skills and abilities at advanced levels persist. Modes remain active.

Eventually, something explodes in my head. Something suppressing me, perhaps. Refreshingly clear mind.

Will something change upon waking? Acting impulsively based on memory and experience. Instinct tells delaying choice brings loss.

Early morning on the 20th day of autumn.

Finally, I stand whole.