[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: China Country]

The hut was, in truth, less a hut and more a single-room shelter—plain in structure. One moderately spacious chamber stretched from wall to wall, its wooden beams created with care. A single square window sat along one side, the frame made with timber, offering a view of the porcelain city beyond.

Inside, the furnishings were sparse. Four thin beds rested on simple wooden frames, aligned neatly along the walls. Each bore a different set of covers: one brown, worn already; one red, another blue, and the last a dull gold, ostentatious in comparison to the rest. The arrangement felt oddly symbolic, though no explanation was offered.

Grimm studied the room for only a few seconds. His gaze passed over the walls, the window, the beds, before the interest drained from his posture entirely.

"It will do," he said at last.

The words were dismissive as he crossed the room and seated himself on the bed with the red covers, the wood creaking beneath his weight but holding firm. He adjusted his position just enough to settle comfortably, posture straight even at rest.

Puck hovered near the center of the room, turning slowly as she took it all in. Her eyes lingered on Grimm as he sat.

"I'm curious," she said after a moment, her tone lighter but filled with genuine interest. "Being related to dragons do you even need to sleep? Or is it more like resting?"

Grimm did not answer immediately. He considered the question, gaze drifting briefly toward the window before returning to the room.

"I could stay awake as long as needed," he replied evenly. "Though eventually it would catch up to me. The body still demands recovery." His gauntleted hand rested against his knee. "Sleeping is more efficient than needlessly staying awake."

Puck hummed once in fascination.

"Oh," she murmured. "So you can sleep."

"And it is a luxury I enjoy," Grimm added, almost as an afterthought.

Puck's mouth curved slightly. "So you're one of those people who'd sleep until noon if no one stopped you?"

"Perhaps," Grimm said, unbothered.

She stared at him for a second, then snorted softly. "Didn't expect you to admit that so easily." Her gaze drifted upward toward his hair. "Explains the hair, honestly. Are you ever going to comb it?"

Grimm lifted a hand and flicked one of the long, wild red strands aside. "I would rather cut it."

Puck recoiled slightly. "You shouldn't cut hair like that," she protested. "It'd be a complete waste. You could style it. Braid it. Tie it back. Do something."

"I do not see the use in that," he replied flatly.

She gave him a long, unimpressed look. "You really don't need to be so dull, you know." Then her expression shifted, the teasing easing into something more thoughtful. She folded her arms loosely as she hovered. "Still I'm surprised you're sticking around," she admitted. "I thought for sure you'd leave by now because, you know—'nothing's interesting.'"

Grimm's helmet tilted slightly.

"I find interest in the magic keeping the weather at bay," he said. "Not terribly unique in concept, but its function differs from most systems I am familiar with. That alone makes it worth observing."

Puck hummed softly. "Yeah, that makes sense." She gestured vaguely upward. "From what I've observed, the spell stretches over the entire region, but it's mostly concentrated above the city itself. Honestly, I didn't even notice it was there until the guard mentioned it." She paused, thinking. "If I had to guess it's probably a spell on the Chorda tier."

Grimm glanced at her. "A magic tiering system?"

She nodded. "Yeah. It's called the Hierarchy of Magic. Born from the First Tree."

"The First Tree?" Grimm repeated.

"Magic derived from it is called Lex Caelorum," Puck continued. "There are four known tiers—though the fourth is… complicated. And that's not even counting the base of the tree or what lies beneath it."

Grimm tilted his head slightly. The motion alone conveyed his confusion.

Puck blinked, then laughed under her breath. "Right. Sorry. That probably sounded like complete gibberish."

"Hm," Grimm replied. "Perhaps merely focus on the tiers."

"Okay," she said, clearing her throat. "First is the Scripta tier. Basic spellcasting—elemental magic, enhancement, minor reality alteration. Most mundane mages use this." She lifted a finger. "Second is Chorda. Middle-layer harmonics. More advanced versions of Scripta spells and far more complex applications." Another finger. "Third is Resonantia. Divine-level spells. The gap between it and the others is enormous. Mostly Gods or higher beings can even touch it."

"I see," Grimm murmured. ("The tiers are simple enough,") he noted internally, ("yet frustratingly vague.")

"You mentioned a fourth," he added aloud.

Puck's expression sobered. "Ah… Nulla. It's mysterious. Other powers derive from it, but it doesn't behave like conventional magic." She hesitated, then looked at him. "I wonder if that's where your ability comes from."

Grimm considered responding but a small, careful knock sounded at the wooden door.

"Oh maybe the food?" Puck wondered aloud as she glanced toward the door. "That was pretty quick, wasn't it?"

Grimm did not answer. He rose from the bed in a single motion as he crossed the room. He reached the door and opened it without ceremony.

At first, there was nothing there.

Then his gaze shifted downward.

"H-hi…"

The voice was small. Almost swallowed by the air itself.

Standing before him was another porcelain person—but unlike the guards or soldiers they had seen earlier, this one was clearly a child. She was smaller than average, her proportions softer and rounder. Large painted eyes stared up at Grimm in open wonder, unclouded by fear. Her porcelain-black hair was styled into a neat bob that framed her face, and she wore a simple blue dress, its glaze dulled slightly with wear, but lovingly kept intact.

Beside her stood something that seemed wildly out of place next to her small frame: a service cart. It was piled high with at least a dozen stacked plates, every one of them bearing clotsche. The cart itself looked heavy—far heavier than she appeared capable of managing. How such a small porcelain figure had pushed it all the way here, alone, without shattering herself, was beyond Grimm's immediate understanding.

"T-the princess w-will have an audience with you t-tomorrow," the porcelain girl blurted out, words tumbling over one another as if she feared forgetting them. "She s-says to please rest well!"

She bowed—too deeply—then spun on her heel and fled down the path, her porcelain feet clinking against the ground as she disappeared from sight.

Puck watched her go, hovering near the doorway. A small smile tugged at her lips. "Well," she mused softly, "she was pretty adorable."

Grimm offered no response. He simply took hold of the cart and wheeled it inside with ease, closing the door behind him. He returned to the bed with the red covers and sat once more, his attention already drifting away from the food.

Puck tilted her head, eyes turning between Grimm and the untouched plates. "You're not going to eat?" she asked, hovering a little farther from the cart as if unsure whether she should approach it herself.

"Later," Grimm replied, tone flat.

"Oh." Puck blinked. "I was kind of expecting you to say something dramatic like, 'I don't eat,' or 'I don't need food.'" She deepened her voice in mock imitation.

"I do not require food extensively," Grimm said calmly, "but it is a luxury."

Her expression shifted—surprise giving way to curiosity. "Really?" she murmured. "Then what's your favorite food?"

"Coffee."

She paused, visibly processing that. "…I've never heard of that before."

"One can only hope this realm possesses such nectar," Grimm murmured, almost thoughtfully.

Puck drifted closer, studying him more intently now. ("His personality really is all over the place…") she thought.

Still, there was something else gnawing at her—something she had been circling around since they met.

"I'm curious," she said at last. "You said you're looking for your lieutenant, right? And then the Queen. After that what are you planning on doing?"

"Search for a means to return to my realm," Grimm replied.

That answer didn't surprise her. What followed did.

"However," he continued evenly, "should that prove difficult—or impossible—I shall remain here. Content, I suppose."

Puck stared at him. "Wait… you'd give up that easily?"

"Hm. This realm could satisfy my curiosity for a time. When it ceases to do so, I may put effort into moving on."

Her brow furrowed. "Still, you'd leave your home behind? Don't you have people waiting for you?"

"My soldiers, perhaps," Grimm said. "They will survive without me. That is sufficient."

"Even so," Puck pressed, her voice turning softer despite herself, "don't you value at least getting back home? Surely that's something you want."

Grimm was silent for a moment.

"Nothing matters enough to want it that badly," he said at last. "If something lies beyond my grasp, I simply choose another path. There is nothing I truly want in that way."

Puck's frown deepened.

("Right, she thought quietly. I keep forgetting… he's not really normal.)"

Yet even as that realization settled in, she couldn't help but feel that beneath his indifference lay something that actually mattered.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.