The breeze smelled of dew and bakery steam as Lilith stepped out into the morning light, her fingers tugging the edges of her dark-blue shawl around her shoulders.
A pale mist lingered in the streets, curling around rooftops and shimmering gently in the glow of mana lamps, still flickering from the night's charge.
It's too peaceful. Like the world has no clue it just caught a pervert soul in its most delicate body.
She blinked up at the soft sky—cotton clouds, warming sun—and for a moment, forgot who she used to be.
Julian was waiting beside the gate, arms crossed loosely, his usual grin already in place.
"You're late."
Lilith gave a dramatic sigh. "I had to make sure I still looked like a girl this morning."
Julian chuckled.
"Still pink-haired, wide-eyed, and the most spoiled person in a hundred leagues. So yeah—you're good."
Spoiled. That's not wrong. I don't think the original Lilith ever had to struggle. Maybe I'm just inheriting her softness like I did her memories.
They started walking down the gently sloping hill that led from the Elric home into the heart of Windvale.
Windvale, for all its modest size, felt alive.
The roads were a soft mix of cobbled stone and packed earth, with raised sidewalks lined by mana-crystal lanterns humming quietly in glass bulbs.
Most homes were two-story stone or timber-brick hybrids with ceramic rooftops, front gardens overflowing with rosemary, sunleaf, or chime-blossoms. Mailboxes bore family crests; some doors had enchanted locks that pulsed faintly when passed.
I thought I'd be walking through some medieval mud village, but this is… late 1900s with mana enhancements? They've got infrastructure. Streetlamps, plumbing runes, enchanted locks—hell, even our house has a hot water gem in the kitchen.
Lilith paused near a bakery where steam curled from iron vents and a clanging sound rang as loaves were pulled from crystal-heated ovens. A boy about ten shouted from a chalkboard, scribbling "cinnamon mana-buns — 5 Narr a pair!"
They have pricing systems, street vendors, even advertising chalkboards. It's like small-town Japan with magic dust.
A middle-aged man waved from behind the counter, his apron sparkling slightly with flour and glitterdust.
"Good morning, Lady Lilith!"
Lilith smiled politely. "Just Lilith, please."
"Of course, of course!" The man bowed anyway.
Julian leaned closer. "They'll still call you that, no matter what you say. You're our rarest export."
Lilith made a face. "Like a luxury item."
Not even a person—just a limited-edition drop from the goddess gacha. Why do I feel like the box I came in cost more than my dignity?
As they walked, the village pulse unfolded in layers.
A manacrafter was tuning a crystal music box for an elderly person.
A carriage engineer yelled at an apprentice for overcharging the mana cell.
At the mail station, glowing tubes carried scrolls to neighboring towns—each one whirring like a distant bird as it zipped off into the sky.
That's pneumatic mail. Enchanted pipes. Are they running magic through copper tubes? That's industrial era tech. How does a place with tribute tokens and noble bloodlines also have magical logistics and energy grids?
People bustled—but not too fast. Windvale moved with the steady rhythm of people who lived long, honest lives.
"Hey, look," Julian said, nodding toward the café. "Leif's already on his third cup."
Leif Alder—their neighbour and same age as Lilith—bookish, glasses slipping off his nose—sat with a notebook and three empty tea cups, scribbling with a mana-tipped stylus.
Lilith watched him through the open terrace window. "I like that he doesn't treat me differently."
"Give it time," Julian muttered.
Most of the men here do that pause. That tiny hesitation before they speak to me. Like they're not sure whether I'm a person or a shrine bell you have to ring with silver coins.
The central square was just coming alive.
Market stalls unfurled canvas shades like slow-blinking eyes. A news crystal orb sat atop a post, softly repeating yesterday's broadcast:
"Tribute reforms delayed until Highmoon. Queen Empress Lysandra remains silent."
News broadcasts. Voice-charmed crystal orbs. Are those public-funded? Or run by a noble channel? This world is so organized, I could probably find a census office with magical ID cards.
Julian winced. "Can't believe they're dragging that out. It's been two seasons."
Lilith cocked her head. "You keep up with tribute politics?"
"I keep up with anything that might affect you," he said simply.
She blinked, surprised by the sincerity.
Julian's always been like this—chill on the surface, iron underneath. If this were an otome game, he'd be the reliable older brother route. Popular with girls. Too loyal for his own good. But I feel deep admiration for him. I'm affected by the feelings of this body.
At the guild station, an armored man pinned a notice to the board:
"Escort Needed: Whispering Hollow Perimeter Sweep – C-Rank, 3 slots open."
A teenage boy with rough gloves and twin daggers groaned. "Again? I swear that forest's cursed."
Nearby, Fenn and Norrick, the twin battle brothers, waved.
"You're back on your feet, Lilith!" Fenn called, grinning. "We missed your daily sass."
Norrick added, "If you're ever up for sword practice, we'll be gentle."
Lilith rolled her eyes and laughed. "You say that every time. Then I break a nail and cry."
"Still more deadly than Luca," Norrick muttered.
Julian nudged her with his elbow. "You're popular."
She sighed. "Is it really me they like, though?"
He didn't answer.
No answer means he doesn't want to lie. Do they like "me," or just the girl who makes their status rise when she smiles?
As they reached the small riverside path, the sounds of the village softened.
They passed men hanging enchanted cloth diapers over warm stones. A group of boys chased a rolling mana-wheel toy, shouting at it to "turn left!" with each command rune. A trio of teenage boys sat near the well, sketching tribute token designs in chalk—floral motifs, elegant circles.
No girls in sight. Of course. I'm a goddamn unicorn in this demographic. Even tribute jewelry has an art scene. These boys are designing coins like wedding rings… or bribes.
"Tribute Day's coming up," Julian murmured, watching them.
It feels wrong. Wanting it past life—fearing it in this one.
They reached the edge of the village—a tall hill that overlooked the fields beyond. Mana wisps floated lazily above blooming grain, rising and falling like drowsy lanterns.
Julian sat on the sun-warmed fence. Lilith joined him, kicking her feet lightly
"Do you ever wish you weren't born into this?" she asked.
He thought for a long time.
"No," he said finally. "But I do wish you hadn't been. You deserve to just live freely. Not as a symbol."
She rested her head on his shoulder, just briefly. "I think… I'm going to try anyway. To be real. Even if this world tries to turn me into an icon."
He smiled. "Good. Then I'll be here. Making sure they don't break you."
The bell in the town square rang softly—morning prayers at the shrine. The world continued turning, calmly and quietly.
But for Lilith Elric, everything had already begun to change.
Continued...