There was a kind of quiet in the village of Clova that made you forget the world was ever loud.
Roosters crowed lazily. Wind rustled the laundry lines. Birds flitted between chimneys and cherry trees. The sky stretched so wide and blue that it felt like the village was held in the palm of something gentle.
And Aisu Erlic?
He was still in bed.
Wrapped like a burrito in his blanket, he muttered, "Five more minutes, then I'll become a responsible person."
A soft knock came at his door.
"Aisu?" came a voice—kind, patient, familiar.
Elda.
"You said that ten minutes ago."
"Time is a complicated thing," he replied sleepily. "Some say it moves in circles. Some say—"
"Aisu. Get. Up."
"…Circles it is."
---
In the kitchen, Miko and Milo were already in the middle of their daily experiment: making breakfast worse.
Miko was stirring a pot of something green and bubbling. "It's not poisonous," he said confidently.
Milo added, "It just smells like it wants to be."
Aisu sat down, nodding solemnly. "As long as I die tasting my brother's love."
Elda served toast, fruit, and actual food, swatting the twins away from her plate like flies. She glanced at Aisu and gave him a tired smile.
"You're late."
"You say that every morning," Aisu replied. "Which makes me right on time."
---
After breakfast, Elda handed Aisu a scroll.
"List of chores," she said. "Real ones."
He opened it dramatically and read:
> Chop firewood
Return the lost scarf to Mayor Dwin
Don't fall asleep in a tree again
DO NOT ENCOURAGE THE TWINS
Apologize to Toma for painting his helmet pink
And for replacing his sword with a broom
"…Is this list a job description or an autobiography?"
"It's your redemption arc," Elda said, already pushing him out the door.
---
Mayor Dwin was a round man with a rounder laugh and a suspiciously well-fed cat named Turnip.
"You found it!" he cried, taking the scarf from Aisu. "Bless your heart, boy."
"It was hanging from a chicken coop," Aisu said.
"Ah yes. I let Turnip play fetch."
"…With scarves?"
"With dignity."
Turnip meowed.
Aisu pet the cat and whispered, "If I vanish tomorrow, I know it's you."
---
Toma stood at the gate, staring into the horizon with the solemnity of a statue—if statues could sulk.
"You changed it back," Aisu said, seeing the silver helmet restored to its proper color.
Toma nodded slowly. "The pink gave away my position."
"To chickens?"
"To everyone."
Aisu handed him a pastry. "Peace offering."
Toma took it. Bit it. Sighed. "…You're lucky I like sweets."
"And you're lucky I didn't glue feathers to your boots."
"…You what?"
"Bye, Toma!"
---
That evening, Aisu climbed the hill overlooking the village, a loaf of bread in one hand and a warm blanket in the other.
Miko and Milo were already there, arguing over which cloud looked more like a potato.
Elda joined them, arms crossed, but eyes soft.
They sat together as the sun set—no words, just closeness.
Milo leaned against Aisu's shoulder. Miko rested his head on Elda's lap.
"I don't want anything else," Aisu whispered, almost to himself. "I don't need to be important. Just this. Just here."
Elda nodded slowly. "Then hold on to it."
Aisu looked up at the darkening sky, stars beginning to bloom in the deep blue.
And in the quiet, he made a promise:
Whatever comes… I'll protect this.
Even if the world changed—this hill, this peace, this family—was everything.