Chapter 20: A New Beginning, A Lingering Touch

All the grain was meticulously organized, then sorted and transported into the granary. It became clear that, even though these people had prepared to endure the winter, the mere mention of earning bread—and even strips of meat—simply by cleaning the lord’s manor, or by selling the lord planks, nails, and rope to repair the floors, sent everyone scrambling.

They swarmed our manor, desperate to find work. In a single day, they completely cleaned and repaired the dilapidated lord’s manor, fixing the floors and stairs, and even renovating the roof.

Once the lord’s manor was fully repaired, I noticed many people were still eager for more. I quickly announced that not only this kind of work, but also selling valuable goods and hunting nearby monsters, could be exchanged for additional grain.

Each person could receive three hundred units of grain daily to survive the winter, even if they didn’t work.

I calculated that, even with such distributions, there would still be a substantial amount left in the granary by spring. Crucially, the market finally began to restore order.

Those with surplus grain vouchers could use them to purchase necessities, such as clothes and handicrafts. Because of this, people started hawking goods in the market.

Even if it was only firewood and a few inconspicuous trinkets for now, I knew that for a town, the commencement of trade was like blood beginning to flow through a body. It signaled the town’s revitalization and newfound vitality.

However, for this town, the items being traded were too few and of too little value. Such exchanges were merely minor dealings within a small settlement, and this was certainly not what I desired.

That evening, Lia happily gazed at the transformed hall.

She hugged my arm, exclaiming, “Papa, Papa, it’s all cleaned up! It was so fast, the uncles and aunties are really quick!”

I nodded, smiling as I ruffled Lia’s hair. “Of course,” I said. “This is their work. If they don’t take care of it, they won’t eat. They understand that, which is why they were so urgent.”

“From now on, we won’t have to worry about firewood or food. And the house is all tidied up. Lia will be able to live here in peace and comfort.”

“Mm!”

Lia nodded happily. Just then, Vilya pushed open the door and walked into the house. She turned to me, her expression flat, and said, “I’m hungry. Come make dinner.”

“Ah… oh… alright… Ah!!”

I had barely agreed when my daughter fiercely pinched my waist, making me yelp in pain. When I looked at Lia, I saw her glaring furiously at Vilya.

Vilya clearly noticed Lia’s gaze. She looked at Lia, her eyes showing a hint of shock. After all, Lia not only refused to speak to her or be near her, but she had never even looked at her before. To have Lia look at her now, even with such anger, was a rare occurrence for Vilya.

Vilya then glanced at me. I couldn’t fathom her intentions, but I walked past her nonetheless. It was at that moment that Vilya suddenly reached out and grabbed my hand.

“Ah!”

“Ahhh!”

Lia and I cried out simultaneously; mine was confusion, Lia’s was fright. Vilya looked at me, then at Lia. Lia stared at Vilya and me with a mix of alarm and terror, even hatred in her eyes for Vilya. Then she looked at me and shouted, “Papa! Let go!”

“No… Lia… it’s not me…”

I was at a loss for words. I knew why Lia was angry, but I truly couldn’t help it. It wasn’t me holding Vilya’s hand; Vilya was holding mine. She gripped my hand tightly, curiously bringing it before her, examining it.

Then, looking at Lia, she suddenly pressed my hand against her own face.

“Eek! Ahhh!!!”

Lia let out a shriek of despair, wailing like a puppy whose tail had been stepped on. I trembled all over, not out of fear of what Vilya might do to me, but out of dread for what Lia might do to me later that night. My neck was still covered in hickeys!

Vilya looked at me expressionlessly. My hand rested gently on her face; my palm registered the cool temperature of Vilya’s face and the softness of her skin. My hand was held firmly in hers, but I felt none of the tenderness or warmth one might expect from a woman; instead, I sensed only the resolute strength of a warrior.

Vilya’s palm was not soft; it was calloused from battles and skill. Her grip was exceptionally strong, pressing my hand against her face, making it impossible for me to pull away. I wanted to withdraw my hand, but it was impossible.

Vilya gazed intently at Lia, without saying a word. Lia looked at me with a piteous gaze, as pathetic as a wounded animal. But I was helpless. I wanted to pull my hand free, but Vilya’s strength was too great. She had no intention of letting go.

Instead, she continued to watch Lia, even taking a step closer, pressing herself against me.

Lia let out a wail, gazing at us in despair, then staring at Vilya in terror. Vilya observed Lia intently, unmoving. Lia looked at Vilya, her hands clenched into tight fists, her head lowered in fear, trembling all over, poised to flee at any moment.

“Vilya, what exactly are you doing…”

“Shut up.”

Before I could finish, Vilya bluntly told me to shut up. She continued to watch Lia, silent. I had no idea what these two were doing, nor what Vilya’s actions meant.

At that moment, Lia finally raised her head, with fearful tears glistening in her eyes. She looked at Vilya in fright, then took two tentative steps forward. She looked at Vilya, her lips trembling as she opened her mouth. Her mouth moved silently at first, then she managed to squeeze out a few muffled sounds. Vilya did not rush her, but continued to watch Lia, waiting.

“Please… please… please…”

Lia averted her gaze, looking at her feet, and whispered, “Please… you… let… let… let go… of Papa…”

“Hm?”

Vilya seemed very satisfied. I noticed a muscle in her cheek twitched, as if she were about to smile. But she still watched Lia, waiting.

“Please… please… please… let go of my Papa…”

Perhaps because she had just spoken, Lia’s words were much more fluid this time. Lia looked up, her gaze piteous, at Vilya. This was Lia’s first time speaking to Vilya voluntarily.

Vilya watched Lia, the corners of her mouth trembling uncontrollably, though she ultimately didn’t smile. She released my hand, then pushed me towards Lia, before turning and walking back into the house. Then she slammed the door shut, leaving me staring blankly at Lia, who had collapsed onto the ground.

I rushed to Lia’s side and pulled her into my arms. Lia sobbed, burying her face in my shoulder, pounding my shoulders as she wailed, “Idiot, idiot! You’re such an idiot, Papa! Why are you like this? Why did you make Lia do that? Lia told you not to go near that woman, so why do you always let her grab you? Lia doesn’t want… Lia doesn’t want to see Papa with that woman… Lia is so scared… Lia… Lia…”

I held Lia tightly in my embrace, gently stroking her back. “It’s alright, it’s alright, Lia,” I said softly. “Don’t be scared, don’t be scared. Papa will take you away from here later, remember? Papa promised you yesterday. Papa will take you away from here. Don’t be scared.”

“I only want Papa… I only want Papa… I have nothing left, I have nothing left. That woman took everything from me, I only have Papa…”

Lia clung to my shoulder, crying loudly into my ear.

I held Lia close, whispering in her ear, “It’s alright, Lia. Your previous life wasn’t really anything worth longing for. In fact, Vilya helped you break free from that past prison. This is your real life now, Lia. Enjoy it. Even with Vilya around, I promise I’ll always take care of you, always.”

“Mm… mm…”

****

Meanwhile, behind the door, Vilya gently gazed at her own hand, with a mixture of envy and curiosity in her eyes. Then she lightly clenched her fist, as if trying to retain the lingering warmth.

She then touched her face, turned to look at the closed door, hesitated, and finally pressed her hand against the door panel.

A knight had never shaken anyone’s hand.

A knight’s hands knew only sword blades and reins. Any handshakes within the hero’s party must have occurred during climbs. Beyond that, a knight had never had physical contact with anyone.

On the battlefield, seeing a woman drenched in viscous demonic fluids, wielding a weapon scavenged from who knew where, walking step by step towards them—even if her armor marked her as one of their own—all the soldiers were terrified and dared not approach her by a single step.

The hero had turned the tide of battle. Yet, the hero afterward was not as glamorous as tales depicted. The hero knew how foul the flesh of monsters tasted and how putrid their blood felt clinging to her.

Her eyes would be filled with blood, seeing only a blur. She would return to camp like a zombie: bathe, eat, sleep, and then, once more, walk onto the battlefield, moving forward again.

Everyone looked up at the hero from afar, yet no one was willing to approach the hand that clutched the longsword.

The hero was somewhat surprised. This was her first time.

Unlike monsters, human hands were incredibly warm.

And, as long as she approached that man, Lia would approach her. Lia would speak to her.

In that moment, Vilya understood in an instant how to forge a connection with Lia.