“Are you up?”

Prota’s eyes were blurry as she slowly opened them to see the sun setting, the sky a crimson red hue.

“We’re almost there, actually.” John’s face looked worn out, but there was a faint smile on his lips as he put Prota down and tousled her hair. “Hungry?”

Her stomach rumbled in reply.

“I guess that’s more than enough of an answer,” John chuckled, walking into the forest to collect firewood.

Prota was left alone temporarily, and this gave her time to think.

She thought about John, his mask, his emotions, who he was… so many questions were left unanswered. However, having slept upon it, something had clicked, although she wouldn’t have been able to put it into words. She desperately wanted to, though, so she would have to find a way.

That way, inevitably, would have to come from John. He returned with a bundle of wood and threw it onto the ground with a grunt.

“Prota?”

The girl nodded as a small flame appeared in her hands, lighting the wood and setting off a blazing bonfire. Out of John’s hoodie came a frying pan, something that wouldn’t have fit, but after having seen multiple things come in and out of the hoodie Prota didn’t really feel the need to ask anymore.

Meat, too, came out of nowhere, but for the first time, Prota’s attention wasn’t on the food being cooked.

“...John?”

John looked away from the fire and focused his attention on his younger sister. “Yeah?”

“Why do you …” she hesitated. How could she even phrase a question like this? A term Elfin had used came to mind.

“Why do you wear a “mask”?”

“Mask?” John swallowed, trying to dodge the question.

“You…” she struggled to put it into words. “You smile, but you’re not smiling. You pretend to be happy, but you’re not happy.”

John shook his head. “What do you mean? If someone’s happy, they’re happy. If they’re not, they’re not.”

Prota looked deep into John’s lifeless eyes and stared. “Stop lying.”

The two words sent shivers down John’s spine. Somehow, she understood a lot more than anyone else would have. Was it a consequence of Prota burying her own emotions as well? Forget that, wasn’t she still a child? Regardless, it wasn’t something John would be able to dodge.

“...” John looked into the fire, the light dancing on his dark face.

“What an idiot,” Zero sighed, popping out. “I don’t know why he’s so hesitant to say anything.”

“Zero, I swear to god if-”

“Shut!” Zero yelled, putting his hand over John’s mouth. “For fuck’s sake, you’ve literally died together, and you’re still keeping secrets? How is it fair if she tells you everything and you tell her nothing? At least explain this.”

John stared at Zero with annoyance but finally sighed and nodded.

“You do it,” he grumbled.

Zero shrugged and sat down.

“Prota, you used the word mask, but do you even know what that means?”

Prota nodded, hesitated, shook her head, hesitated again, then shrugged.

“John’s mask isn’t a physical one. His smile is his mask, I guess.”

Prota cocked her head to the side in confusion.

“You see, John forced himself to stop feeling a while ago. It partially has to do with his power and stuff, but I won’t go into that right now. The point is that because of… issues, he has chosen to stop feeling.”

Prota nodded. She sort of understood this much.

“However, this doesn’t mean he’s not a normal being. He’s not depressed or anything; he’s just trying not to “feel emotion.” He can still feel, in a way. Everyday interactions are just, well, everyday interactions. He can feel momentary excitement, sadness, disappointment, joy, whatever, but they’re all surface level emotions. It’s nothing that makes a lasting impact on him, nothing that he really “feels.” This is his “mask”.”

Zero looked at Prota. “You have a mask too, in a way. You want to feel, don’t you? You never stopped yourself from feeling. You just believe that if you don’t show anyone how you feel, you’ll end up not feeling, right?”

Prota flinched at the theory directed at her but nodded. Zero had put something into words that she would have never been able to describe, hell, something she hadn’t even realized herself.

“John is the same. He believes that if he pretends to be able to feel, that’s as close to feeling as he could possibly get. However, he can’t feel. Or at least, he doesn’t want to. So no matter how he feels on the outside, it’s never going to change how he is on the inside.”

Prota squeezed her eyes as she held her head in her hands. It was a bit much for her, but she understood the general concept. Zero had put into words, albeit not very well, what she had internally understood for herself.

John wasn’t happy.

He pretended to be happy in an attempt to get as close to feeling happy as he could.

Therefore, she should do her best to make him smile.

She slid over to John, who was staring into the fire with a dead expression, still cooking the meat on the pan, but still, like a statue.

“John.”

John looked over as his tired eyes met Prota’s.

“Don’t try, Prota. It’s not worth it.”

“Trust me.” The words were hollow.

Prota shook her head as she clenched her fists by her side.

“John… helped me,” she said with determination. “Now it’s my turn. I… I’m going to help John feel again.”

John felt something pull in his chest, and quickly looked away. He swallowed as his breath started getting shallower, his heart beating faster.

Why? Why was she so set on this?

“...” he laughed a hollow laugh as he threw his head back, the fire cracklilng merrily in front of the two.

“You’re not just a character, are you?” John said with a weary smile. It was a tired smile, but it was also a real one. “Are you something more? Were you someone I knew at some point?”

Prota looked at him with confusion, but she was set now.

She would help him feel. She would repay what he did for her, even if it paid off only a fraction of the debt she owed.

A small smile appeared on her own face as she rested her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes as the warmth of the fire washed over her body.

~~~

“What the fuck do you mean we can’t register here?!” John yelled, flipping the stoic man behind the desk off. “Is this racially motivated? Is it cause I have black hair? Everyone else in this fucking fantasy world has weird ass shit hair, is it cause of that?”

The man just stared at John, who had arrived in the middle of the night to the adventurer’s guild and asked to receive an adventurer’s identification, something he’d heard was a lot more convenient than the piece of paper they’d received from Elfin.

“Listen, kid, I’m trying to tell you it’s-”

“Nope, not hearing any of it. You know, you look like someone who’d be racist.”

“...racist?” the man frowned. “What does that-”

“Just give me the ID!”

The man, who’d been struggling to remain patient, finally snapped.

“Kid! Shut up! I’m trying to tell you it’s midnight! Come back tomorrow, we’re not processing anything right now!” the man yelled.

“...” John put a finger to his lips and thought. Had it been a comic, three dots would have appeared over his head. “Ah. That is… a good point.”

Prota and the man at the desk just sighed.

“Come back tomorrow, we’ll process it then,” the man said, finally glad to get rid of John.

Just then, a man burst into the building, panting.

“Boss! We just found the bandits that had been up for bounty! They were… all dead, on the side of the road,” he said, wiping his forehead.

John flinched. Bandits?

“One was frozen solid, I kid you not, the other had a bunch of burn marks all over him too.”

“They were all C level mages at most, one of them might’ve been a B level mage. That was a B rank adventurer’s assignment, what’s the big deal?”

“The… the last one was dead. Just… dead. No marks on him, nothin, just dead on the ground. He was a mage, so…”

“You think he used a “last stand”?”

John cocked his head to the side. “Last stand?”

The man who’d entered turned to John. “Are you a new mage? It’s a term we use for a spell that sacrifices your life in return, sort of like a last-ditch trump card if you’ve got nothing left to play.”

John rubbed his chin. “It might be a good idea to think of something like that, if not just for show…”

“Anyways, yeah, I think he pulled out his last stand. The issue is, there are no marks of any high power spells. Just fire and ice, but nothing over the top.”

“So…”

“We’re left with a few options. Either someone managed to kill the mage without touching him, or managed to negate a last stand.”

The boss rubbed his chin. “I haven’t had any adventurers come in and report that the three of them had been taken care of. Besides, they were meant to be taken in alive, not dead.”

John flinched and slowly started to head out.

“Oi. You two get out of here. Come back tomorrow,” the boss said sternly upon realizing there were two people who weren’t supposed to be there.

“Mm, yep, see you later!” John said somewhat forcefully, then ran out the door practically dragging Prota behind.

~~~

“...I thought you guys just weren’t making licences at night,” John said, glaring at the man behind the desk.

Granted, it wasn’t the boss he’d talked to the night before but it was still annoying that he had to go through this all over again.

“Listen, kid, you’re not pulling anybody’s leg with that fake licence. Just do me a favour and get out, ok?”

“What’s fake about it? How is this fake in any conceivable way?” John exclaimed. “Just- holy shit.”

He was intensely close to pulling his gun out, so much so that he reached into his hoodie with the intention to pull it out, but remembered last minute about Elfin’s letter. The only reason he remembered it was because his hand had brushed past it while reaching for the pistol.

“Look, will this help?” John sighed as he slapped the letter on the table. The man at the desk rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed as he ripped the seal off and pulled the letter out. John smirked as the man’s eyes widened the further he got down the page.

“A- a letter of recommendation from the head of the adventurer’s guild himself?” the man gasped. “So sorry, I’ll have your ID ready right away!”

He grabbed the certifications out of John’s hand and practically ran into the back room.

“John,” Zero started.

“Mm?”

“You had another half year to make yourself look twelve. Why’d you do it now?”

“I-” John started, raising a finger, then stopped as he realized he didn’t have an answer. “Uh…”

“You could’ve avoided so many problems if you looked like your “real age,” but no, you jumped the gun and said, “oh yes, I’ll make myself look twelve because why not?” Do you… have a brain? Can you think? Are… are you stupid?”

“Shut up,” John grumbled. Zero was still laughing in John’s head as the man came back, breathless.

“Here are your IDs,” he said, panting. “Also, the boss wants to see you.”

“The boss?”

“Well, that’s what we call him. The head of this branch, if you will. Please, follow me.”

John took their IDs and threw them into his hoodie, following the man deeper into the building. There was a door with the words “The Boss” inscribed on the front.

“Go on in,” the man said.

John felt like this was all a big setup, but did as the man said and opened the door. Inside was the man they’d met yesterday, a big burly man smoking a cigar, scars lining his face and arms. He was wearing a dress shirt and pants, but battle armour would have suited him better. John coughed and waved the smoke away from his face as he and Prota sat down in the chairs in front of the man’s desk.

“I hear the big man recommended you personally,” the man said. “I’m Albert Alimbert, head of this section. You were the two who came in yesterday night, huh?”

“...yeah?” John said hesitantly.

“Well, if you walked all the way here, you must be as tough as the big man said you were,” Albert chuckled. He put the cigar out and leaned back. “And if you walked here… did you pass by three bandits on the way? Our intel says one was a swordsman, another an assassin, the third a mage. See anybody like that?”

John hesitated, then shook his head. “...no?” Sweat dripped down his face.

“Damn. Well, if you can, keep an eye out.”

Joh nodded, breathing a sigh of relief. “Look, what did you call us in here for? I’d like to get out, so if you’ve got something to say, can you say it?”

“Cocky little brat, aren’t ya?” Albert said menacingly.

“Yeah, I sure am,” John snorted, refusing to back down. “Problem?”

The man laughed a loud, booming laugh. “You’ve got guts! I like you, kid.”

“I’ll get to the point, then. Listen, and listen closely. I don’t tell anyone this because of the sensitivity of the topic but if the boss man recommended you I think you’re trustworthy enough.”

John leaned forwards, his ears perked up. This screamed of what he called [Plot Relevance], something that would be important to his adventure later on. Given that he knew the world was a story, it would probably something useful to keep in mind. Granted, it also screamed of lazy writing considering someone they’d just met was trusting them with sensitive information, but whoever was writing John’s story tended to write a lot of bullshit anyways, so this wasn’t anything new.

“There’ve been adventurers disappearing, and not because of the tasks they’ve been doing. There’s something out there, taking them. They’re disappearing like flies. Those three bandits I was talking about earlier? They’re part of that. I’ve got a record that those three have taken at least three adventurers, mainly under the guise of providing shelter at night.”

“... and how do you know this exactly?”

“We had one guy get away,” Albert said, unfazed. “He told us everything. They knocked him out and had him loaded on a carriage, but luckily his wind element was fast enough to get him out. Lucky man.”

“And how exactly do you know all these adventurers are disappearing because of… whatever delusional theory you’re presenting me with?”

“I don’t think you’re taking this seriously enough, kid. I get the feeling those three were henchmen, grunts, if you will. They were all reported to be level C mages. They can’t be the big men of whatever’s going on. They don’t have to power to carry through with it.”

Albert let out a long puff of smoke before shoving his cigar back in his mouth.

“There’s something out there, and we don’t have the manpower or resources to find it.”

“...ok, so what do you want? Was your entire purpose just to… tell me this? Is that it?”

“Do you not appreciate a warning?” Albert grinned.

“I don’t know. Sounds like you want something in return.”

Albert chuckled. “I don’t know who you think you are, kid, but you’re funny in a kind of way. If you can, bring back anyone you find that’s doing anything suspicious.”

“Sus, if you will?”

“What?”

“Never mind. What’s in it for me?” There were dollar signs in Johns's eyes. He could easily barter for something good on a request like this.

Albert sighed. “I should’ve known a kid like you was gonna ask something like that. S class bounty. Five thousand gold coins for every man you can bring in, upfront, no hassle. How about it?”

“Five…” John hesitated. He didn’t really know how much that was. Was it a lot? A little?

Zero sighed.

[Just take it.]

John would’ve spent hours trying to scam Albert out of more, and it simply wasn’t worth the time right now. John was typically a lazy bum, but could hyper fixate over the stupidest of things.

“Deal,” John nodded, extending his hand. Albert’s huge paw of a hand extended and nearly crushed John’s as they shook.

“Good luck, kid. You’re gonna need it.”