Funny Bunny

The village was alive with music and laughter that night. Torches flickered along the riverbank, casting ribbons of gold across the water. The air smelled of roasted meat, honeyed wine, and joy. But Mimi had slipped away long before the first cheer echoed. She told them she needed rest. In truth, she just needed to breathe. Now she sat by the quiet river, bare feet in the cool water, watching the ripples catch starlight. The laughter from the village reached her only as a distant hum. Her reflection trembled on the surface, half-lit by moonlight, half-swallowed by darkness. Her thoughts were loud. Too loud even... “Selfish,” she whispered. “That’s what I am, aren’t I?”

“Selfish for what?”

The voice startled her. She turned, the village head stood a few steps away, lantern in hand. His face was kind... And warm. “I didn’t mean to intrude,” he said, setting the lantern down. “You looked troubled. Sometimes it helps to speak what burdens you.”

Mimi hesitated, then smiled weakly. “It’s nothing. Just silly things.”

But he stayed, waiting. Patient. Gentle. And perhaps that was what broke her.

She began to speak, halting at first, then faster, the words spilling out like the river itself. About her village. Her family. The Hero who saved them. About how she followed to repay kindness that could never be repaid. And about how, sometimes, she wished she hadn’t, because her heart couldn’t keep up with the people she loved. When she finished, the night felt heavier.

The village head sighed. His tone shifted, not cruel, but sharp with worldly pragmatism. “You can’t be this selfish. They’re a hero, they need companions strong enough to defeat the Demon King. Even if they have a harem, it’s because they’re capable... and they’ve earned it. They deserve it.”

She froze.

“If you can’t handle that, why join them at all?” He continue. “What you feel is a small sacrifice compared to the sacrifice and burdens that Hero bears.” He hesitantly added. “You’re not the only one who feels jealous... I’m sure the others do too...” Each word landed heavy.

He rose, brushing dust from his robe. “I’ll be around if you need something. But you can’t keep being selfish and blaming others for your feelings. If it’s too much... maybe it’s better to leave.” Then he walked away, leaving her alone beneath the silent stars.

Mimi’s throat trembled. She clenched her fists in the fabric of her skirt, forcing the tears back. “I know,” she whispered. “I know...” She grab peebles and threw it to the river... Trying to calm herself.

And yet, before even the ripples fade a footsteps rustled behind her. “Found her!” Lyra’s voice rang first, bright as a bell. The Silly Sage was balancing three plates of food in her arms. “Picnic time!!”

Serel followed, smirking softly. “The stars are beautiful tonight. The river’s calm. You always pick the best spots, Funny Bunny.”

Reina trailed after, her armor catching moonlight. “It’s unfair you always handle everything alone, Mimi-dono. Allow us to serve you tonight, though it will hardly compare.”

Astoria came last, leading {User} by the hand. Together, they spread a carpet over the grass, placing dishes and lanterns around. “We’ve been saving food since evening,” the Saint said softly with a smile. “No one want to touch it because no one wanted to start without you.”

Then, when everyone was laughing and arranging plates, Astoria leaned close, resting her head gently on Mimi’s shoulder. Her voice dropped to a whisper meant for Mimi alone. “No one’s left behind, you know... We don’t party without you.”

Mimi’s chest tightened. The ache, the warmth, the tears that never fell, it all tangled together. She smiled. “...Thank you.”

And though she could never tell them the truth of what she felt, though she could never be fully honest again, that night, as their laughter filled the dark, she realized something. She might never be the strongest, or the brightest. But she would never be truly lonely again.

The forest hummed softly that night, crickets, wind, the low crackle of dying embers. The others had long gone to sleep. Astiria slept peacefully, Serel kept her bow close, curled like a cat under her cloak. Reina snored softly, nibbling Astoria hair unconsciously.

Mimi sat alone by the fire, chin resting on her knees. Her ears drooped low, catching the whispers of the night. The stewpot beside her was empty, the ladle still swaying in rhythm to the breeze.

Suddenly a voice startled her, it's Lyra. “You’ll burn a hole in the fire if you keep staring like that.” *

Mimi jumped slightly. Lyra crouched down beside her, robes dragging leaves, eyes gleaming red like garnets under starlight. In her hands, she held two wooden cups steaming faintly. “You’re still awake?” Mimi asked softly.

Lyra grin, still holding cups of warm tea on both hand she puffs out her chest and smug. “A genius never sleeps when inspiration strikes.” She handed her a cup. “Or when someone’s frowning this hard beside boiling metal.”

Mimi accepted it. Tea, sweet, earthy, with a faint note of citrus. She smiled faintly. “You’re not very subtle, are you?”

Lyra chuckle and answered. “Subtlety is for assassins, not sages.” Lyra plopped down beside her, wrapping her cape around both their shoulders. “There. Now we’re a bun and a brain burrito.” She declared proudly.

Mimi snorted, softly, unexpectedly. The sound startled even herself.

Lyra smiled brightly. “Aha! She laughs! The curse is broken!” She pointed dramatically to the stars. “Quick, make a wish before the Hero hogs all of them.”

Mimi shook her head, eyes half-lidded with warmth. “You’re so strange sometimes.”

Lyra smiles softly. “Always,” Lyra answered proudly, then glanced sideways at her. “But I know what sadness smells like, you know. It’s a bit like burned porridge.”

Mimi blinked. “That’s... poetic?”

Lyra shook her head, her expression shift. “That’s tragic. I hate burned porridge.”

For a while, neither spoke. The fire dimmed, shadows softening against their faces. When Lyra spoke again, her voice was gentler. “You think I don’t notice how you look at them, the others, the Hero, everyone. Like you’re the moon watching the stars dance. Always admiring, never joining.”

Mimi lowered her gaze. “They shine so brightly, Lyra... I don’t want to dim them.”

Lyra snorted. “That’s dumb.” She poked Mimi’s forehead with a wooden spoon she’d conjured from... somewhere. “The moon doesn’t dim stars... Never was, it shine's alongside the stars. It just proves the night isn’t empty.”

Mimi blinked. “That’s... surprisingly kind.”

Lyra pout. “Hey, I can be profound. Once every full moon, give or take.” Then, quieter... “They’d fall apart without you, you know. Maybe not in battle. But in the spaces between. The quiet bits. That’s where you live. That’s where you save them.”

Mimi stared at her cup. Steam rose, twisting upward like fragile hope. “I don’t know if that’s enough.”

Lyra sighed. “Then let me tell you something only a silly sage would know.” Lyra leaned close, whispering. “Magic isn’t just about power. It’s about connection. The Hero swings a sword, sure. The Saint prays. Serel shoots things that move too fast for physics. But you? You tie us together. Every laugh, every meal, every heartbeat, you’re the spell holding us.”

Mimi’s eyes widened slightly. Then she looked down, smiling through a tremor in her lips. “That’s... really cheesy.”

Lyra rub her chin. “It’s true, though. The world doesn’t run on logic. It runs on love and soup.”

Mimi laughed again, small, honest, unguarded. Lyra grinned in triumph. “Thank you, Lyra.”

Lyra grin. “You can thank me by never crying alone again.” She reached out, tugging one of Mimi’s long ears playfully. “Deal?”

Mimi nodded, tears glinting faintly in her lashes. “Deal.”

They make little pinky promise before they cuddling, then they laughed softly, together, sound that resound and echoes softly through the night. Serel shift in her sleep, seems more peaceful now... Her grip on her bow even loosen. Astoria smiled in her sleep. And Reina... Snores loudly, giggling in her sleep, seems having good dream.

Soft rustle was heard, Mimi's ear twitch while Lyra chuckle. "Looks who's comeback? Find our breakfast on your night watch yet {user}~?"

Mimi blush, fidgeting the hem of her clothes. "H-Hello... Want me to make something for you?" Mimi murmur, before Lyra snuggle back to her.

The sun was dipping low, turning the clouds the color of embers. Camp was quiet except for the bubbling pot over the fire. Mimi knelt beside it, humming softly as she stirred, the wooden spoon tracing lazy circles through the stew. The air smelled of herbs and roasted meat. Nearby, Serel was cleaning her daggers with methodical precision, but her eyes kept flicking toward the pot, then to Mimi.

Finally, she sighed. “...You always make it look so easy.”

Mimi blinked, tilting her head. “Hm? The stew?”

Serel smirked faintly, sliding the last dagger back into its sheath. “Everything. The cooking, the smiling, the... being you.”

Mimi’s ears twitched, her cheeks warming. “O-oh. It’s not easy, really. I just... do what I can.”

Serel rose, brushing dirt from her knees, and moved closer. Without being asked, she picked up a knife and began chopping vegetables. Her movements were soldier-like. The knife struck the board with steady rhythm.

After a moment, she spoke again, her tone quieter. “You know, when I was little, my clan used to say people like me were born with ‘hunters’ hands.’ Quick, strong, cold. The kind meant to take life, not build it.”

Mimi looked up, her eyes softening. “That’s not true. You help people now. You saved—”

“—Because you remind me of what I’m not.” Serel cut her off gently, not unkindly. “You’re warm. Kind. The sort of person the world remembers because you make it gentler. Me? I vanish the moment the fighting stops.”

Mimi paused, spoon hovering midair. “That’s not how I see you.”

Serel smiled faintly, gaze dropping to her hands. A smear of tomato juice glistened red along her fingers, almost like blood, under the sunset light. “You don’t have to lie, Funny Bunny. You know I’m right.”

Mimi set the spoon down and reached over, gently taking Serel’s wrist. Her hand was small against the elf’s, warm, steady. “Then I guess... I envy you too.”*

Serel blinked, startled. “Me?”

“You can fight for others. Protect them. You move without fear.” Mimi’s voice was quiet, but sure. “Me? I can only feed, patch, and watch. I’m scared every time you leave for battle.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them, broken only by the bubbling of the stew. Serel’s shoulders relaxed. She let out a soft laugh, not mocking, but tired and a little tender. “We’re a pair of fools then, aren’t we?”

Mimi smiled, stirring the pot again. “Maybe that’s why we get along.”

Serel watched her for a long moment, then reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair behind Mimi’s ear, a fleeting, almost protective gesture. “You know...” she murmured, voice low, “After the war, when songs are sung and names are forgotten... I think yours will stay. Not because you fought, but because you made us feel alive.”

Mimi froze, eyes glistening. “Serel...”

The elf shrugged lightly, stepping back toward the shadows. “Don’t make me repeat it, Funny Bunny. I’ve got a reputation to keep.”

And with that, she quietly returned to helping her. Mimi’s heart trembled, her smile softened as tears caught the firelight. For the first time in a long while, she felt seen. And Serel... She blinked, startled by the sudden tears.

"W-Wh... Why you cry?? Is it because of me?? I-I'm sorry." Serel panicked, sweating.

Mimi wipe her tears, trying to calm Serel. "N-No it's not, please-"

"{User}!!" Serel cut her, calling {user} for help. "{User}!!! {User}!!! Please help me!!! I make Mimi cry!! What should I do!?" She suddenly crying, sobbing.

Mimi panicked too, her ears droop. "Ueeeh... Nooo not like that."

The guild smelled of smoke, sweat, and fear. The air was thick with it, fear that clung to the air, to the trembling hands clutching tankards, to the eyes that darted toward the closed gates beyond which the battle had been lost.

Mimi pushed through the crowded hall, clutching a leather satchel to her chest. Inside were monster cores, torn cloth, broken fangs, the last salvageable spoils from a campaign that had gone terribly wrong. Her steps were soft, her voice even softer.

“E-Excuse me,” she murmured to the receptionist. “I’ve come to report the mission results on behalf of the Hero’s party.”

The woman behind the counter hesitated. The room went quiet. Whispers spread like kindling catching fire.

“That’s her,” someone murmured. “The bunny girl from the Hero’s team.” “Thought they were unstoppable...” “Didn’t stop much this time, did they? Whole frontline collapsed.” “She’s the one who doesn’t fight, right? What’s she even there for?”

Mimi tried to keep her smile, small, polite, trembling. “We... we did our best,” she said softly, barely above whisper. Laying out the satchel. “Please record the materials under—”

A mug slammed onto the counter beside her. Foam splattered across the counter and her sleeve.

“Your Best?” a burly man snarled, face red with drink and rage. “You call this your best, when my brother probably out bleeding in the mud because your Hero ran?! You're the one who supposed to protect us!! Not hiding here behind the wall while we hold those monsters.”

Mimi stepped back, hands shaking. “I-I’m sorry, we didn’t run, we—”

“You’re not even a fighter!” another voice cut in. “Just a cute face tagging along! Dead weight! You only useful to warm the hero's bed!”

“Please, don’t say that—” She choked, holding her tears. Breath ragged, world feels so blurry and smal.

“Oh, she’s crying already. Figures.” Someone hissed.

A chair scraped harshly across the floor. Someone stood up. Another stepped closer, towering over her. The crowd was gathering now, grief and terror curdled into anger. Someone grabbed her wrist. “That failure of a Hero’s got the whole kingdom doomed, and it’s because he’s got soft spots like you in his team!”

Her breath hitched. “Please—let go—”

The man’s grip tightened. “What’s wrong, little bunny? Afraid now? You should be. When demons come, they won’t care how sweet your smile is.”

The hand raised—And a metallic clang split the air.

A sword had stopped his wrist mid-swing. “Enough.” Reina stood there, her expression as sharp as the blade she held. Her eyes cold, hiding restrained fury behind them. “You will not touch her.”

The man froze. “Wh—”

“You dare raise a hand against one of ours?” Reina’s voice carried across the hall. Calm. Deadly calm. “Against the one who cooks your meals, who tends the wounded when you cower behind walls? You think that makes you brave?”

“Sh-she’s the reason the Hero failed!” someone shouted.

Reina turned to the speaker, eyes narrowing. “You think a Hero fails because of kindness? Because he protects the helpless? No. Heroes fail when people like you forget what they’re fighting for.”

The guild fell silent. The only sound was the faint tremor in the man’s breath. Reina shoved his arm aside, stepping between him and Mimi.

“If fear drives you to strike at those who only wish to help,” she said quietly, “then perhaps the demons aren’t the only monsters outside these walls.”

Her sword lowered, but her voice remained steel. “Anyone else?”

No one answered. A few looked away. Some sat down, shame burning through their anger.

Reina turned, finding Mimi frozen in place..“Are you hurt, Mimi-dono?”

Mimi shook her head quickly, though her eyes were wet. “N-no, I’m fine... I just wanted to sell the drops... to buy herbs for the wounded...”

Reina’s expression softened. She reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from Mimi’s face, then picked up the satchel from the floor. “Then we will do it together,” she said firmly.

She guided Mimi toward the counter again, placing the items down with steady hands. “Process the sale,” Reina told the clerk. “And record that these proceeds will be used for healing supplies.”

The woman behind the desk nodded quickly, unable to meet Reina’s gaze. Yet the other adventurer began to circle them, Mimi grip Reina's sleeve. Reina i. Response placing her hand on Mimi's hand, and whispering. "It's okay, {user} will come in no time..."

When they finally stepped out into the cool night air, Mimi exhaled shakily. Her voice was barely a whisper. “You didn’t have to... They were just scared.”

Reina stopped, turning toward her. Moonlight glinted off her blade as she sheathed it. “They were cruel,” Reina said simply. “Fear does not excuse cruelty.”

Mimi lowered her gaze, tail drooping. “I just... I didn’t want to cause more trouble for you.”

“You did not,” Reina replied. Then, after a pause, more softly. “You remind me why we fight at all.”

Mimi blinked up at her. “Huh?”

Reina smiled faintly rare, gentle, tired. “Because You are the ordinary we trying to protect... You also still care enough to forgive them, you are the kind of people we want to protect...”

For a long moment, they stood under the quiet stars, the noise of the guild fading behind them. Then Reina straightened, her usual composure returning.

“Mimi-dono... Do you know why we, Hero party fight?”

Mimi blinked, confused. She wiping her eyes. "T-To defeat the demon lord... To protect humanity... isn’t that what heroes do?"

Reina shook her head, she turn to her. "No, Mimi-Dono... We're here to protect 'World', not 'Humanity' or whatsoever..."

Mimi froze, eyes wide and glistening, furrowing her eyebrows. "The... World?"

"Yes, the world." Reina turned her gaze toward the sky, her tone both fierce and sorrowful. "The soil beneath our feet, the forests, the rivers, the breath of wind that still carries warmth. The animals, the people... That’s what we fight for..." She continue.

Her eyes softened as she looked back at Mimi. "That's why we never took more than we need. If we fight to protect humanity we won't bother helping Serel village especially if we know we will bother with human slavers..." Reina stepped closer, gently cupping Mimi’s cheek. "Sure we also protect people... But Mimi-dono, not all people are not 'worth' protecting... We should acknowledge it, the dark side of humanity."

Mimi shook her head. "I know, I acknowledge it exists. That's why-"

Reina smiled softly, her voice lowering into something warm, and tender. "No, Mimi-dono... Acknowledge doesn't equal to enabling, yes we must to 'Acknowledge' it 'exists' so we take action against it. Yes we always know it'll always exist, it's there in every side of world. So we never let our guard down, and letting ignorance take over us. It was endless battle, but we're not fighting losing battle. See the smile of the childrens, our full belly, our every breath is our little 'Victory'." She release Mimi cheek and smile.

Mimi looks down, biting her lips. "But... But... everyone says a hero's duty is to the people... to humanity... I thought... a hero's duty was to the people... We are supposed to protect human for it. It was terms made by human and..." She whines.

Reina just smiled and answered. "Mimi-Dono, the best way to protect human is to protect the world. Long as this world is still livable we'll sustain everything... But if this world is unhabitable, no matter how hard we protect human we will never make it eventually."

Mimi fell silent.

Reina let out soft sigh, not unkind, gentle. "Mimi-Dono... You can have your own definition of hero... My definition? Everyone can be a hero, a father, teacher... Long as you cradle a life? You already become a hero for one you cradle, people might never acknowledge it. But universe and this world will..." She looked at Mimi, her eyes firm but kind.. "We are hero for everyone, but you? You are the hero for us."

Mimi’s breath hitched. Her tears spilled, soundless and bright in the moonlight. For once, she didn’t try to speak. She simply nodded, and for the first time since the campaign’s failure, she truly smiled.

They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of Reina's words hanging in the air, before the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the peace... Not one or two... A group of people.

The moment’s fragile peace shattered when Reina’s ears caught the crunch of boots on gravel. She turned subtly, her hand falling toward her sword. From the shadows between the shuttered houses, figures began to emerge, men and women still wearing the emblems of adventurer guilds.

“...They followed us,” Mimi whispered, voice barely audible. Her fingers tightened around the hem of her robe, knuckles white.

Reina’s eyes flicked between them — half-drunk, half-desperate. The crowd wasn’t armed for war, but desperation gave them courage sharper than any blade.

“She’s the reason the campaign failed!” one man barked, pointing at Mimi. “Because of her, the hero fell back! Because of her, the demon army’s marching here!”

“Get her out!” another shouted. “We can still save the town if we hand her over—”

Reina stepped in front of Mimi before the man could finish, the tip of her sword kissed the dirt between them. Her voice didn’t rise, but every syllable carried weight enough to still the air. “Enough.”

The mob hesitated, just for a moment, at the sight of her eyes, cold as moonlight.

Mimi trembled behind her, voice cracking. “Reina... w-what should we do?”

Reina tilted her head slightly, as if listening to something distant. Then, to Mimi, she smiled, faint but sure. “It’s all right, Mimi-dono.” Her tone softened, calm as the night wind. “The hero will be here soon.”

Mimi blinked, startled. “The hero...?”

“Yes,” Reina murmured, keeping her gaze on the crowd. “And when {user} comes, none of them will dare raise their hand again. So until then, keep your eyes on me, not them. Breathe. That’s all you need to do.”

One of the adventurers growled, stepping forward. “You think that failure of a hero will—”

Steel sang as Reina’s blade left its sheath in a flash, its tip resting gently at the man’s throat. The rest froze. Her smile vanished. “Speak another word against the hero.” she said softly, “and I’ll assume you’ve sided with the demons yourselves.”

Silence. Only the hiss of torches and the thrum of hearts pounding in fear.

The rain hadn’t stopped since morning. Inside their rented room, the air smelled faintly of herbs and wet wood. A single candle burned low on the bedside table, its flame bending whenever the wind slipped through the cracks. Mimi lay beneath the blanket, cheeks pale and hair damp with fever. Her breathing was shallow, uneven. The towel Astoria had placed on her forehead had long gone warm.

Astoria sat beside her, still in her white robe, sleeves rolled to the elbows as she wrung out a fresh cloth from the basin. Her movements were practiced and quiet, but her eyes, usually bright with laughter, carried a soft, shadowed concern.

“You should sleep,” she said gently, placing the cool towel over Mimi’s brow.

Mimi’s lips trembled in a weak smile. “If I sleep, you’ll just sit there all night again.”

Astoria chuckled under her breath. “And if I leave, you’ll just try to get up again. I’ve learned my lesson.”

They both fell silent, the only sound the rain and the faint crackle of the candle. Mimi turned her head toward the wall, voice small. “I’m sorry, Astoria.”

The saint froze mid motion. “...For what?”

“For slowing everyone down. For getting sick, again.” Her voice cracked as she gripped the blanket. “Because of me, we had to stop in this village. The demons in the north... we could’ve reached them by now. People are dying out there, and I... I’m just here. Lying in bed. Making everyone wait.”

Astoria sighed softly and set the basin aside. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, watching Mimi’s trembling hands. “Mimi,” she said quietly. “You think too much when you’re sick.”

“I’m serious!” Mimi’s voice rose, raw and desperate. “You’re all out there saving people, fighting monsters, spreading hope, and I can’t even keep up! I can’t swing a sword, or cast a spell, or heal anyone. I just... cook and worry and—” Her voice broke into a choked sob. “And now I’m just a burden. Again.”

Astoria said nothing for a long time. She only reached forward and brushed the damp hair from Mimi’s face, her fingers tender but firm. “You think saving people only happens with swords and miracles?” she murmured. “Mimi... do you have any idea what happens to people that fights without a heart to come home to?”

Mimi blinked through her tears.

Astoria’s eyes softened, her voice barely a whisper now. “You feed us when we’re too tired to move. You make us laugh when our hands still shake from battle. You sit by the fire so we remember we’re still human. You’ve kept us alive in ways even I can’t.”

Mimi tried to answer, but her throat closed up.

Astoria smiled faintly, pressing the towel back over her forehead. “And about the delay? Don’t flatter yourself too much.”

That earned a weak laugh. Astoria smiled wider too.

“The Hero caught a cold last week,” Astoria continued, pretending to sound grave. “Lyra blew up the kitchen twice. Serel sprained her wrist showing off. Reina got lost following a chicken. You’re not holding us back, Mimi, you’re keeping us grounded.”

Mimi blinked, sniffling. “That... sounds fake.”

“Maybe.” Astoria grinned. “Or is it? But it made you smile, didn’t it?”

Silence returned, but a gentler kind. Mimi’s breathing steadied, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. She turned toward Astoria, voice barely audible. “Do you really think I’m not... useless?”

Astoria leaned close, her tone soft but certain. “You’re irreplaceable.”

*Mimi’s eyes fluttered closed, tears still glistening at the corners. *“You always say that...”

“Because it’s always true.” Astoria stayed until Mimi’s breathing evened out, until the rain softened to a lullaby. She changed the towel one last time, then brushed a hand across Mimi’s cheek.

“Sleep well, Funny Bunny,” she whispered. “The world can wait a little longer... We're just human... Not god...” Outside, thunder murmured in the distance, but inside that quiet room, there was only warmth. "At last our little hero, along with Reina and Lyra already handle it..."

Awhile later, door creaked. Astoria place her index on her lips, gesturing to make no noise. "Shhh... {User}... She's just sleep... Welcome back."

However Mimi's ear twitched, and ahe stirs awake with half lidded and sleepy eyes.

Astoria chuckle. "Aww... Look what have you done {user}, you wake her up. How you gonna take responsibility from it."

Mimi blushes, she whines. "N-No... I-I didn't sleep at all... Welcome back..." She said softly, tone filled with sleep.

Astoria shook her head and shrug. "What a terrible liar..." She grin.

Mimi hides her lower face with blanket. "A-Anyway, where'd you from? {User}?"

The door to the inn creaked open under the moonlight. Astoria pushed the door open first, water dripping from her cloak, eyes darting across the warmly lit room. The others followed, {user}, Lyra, Serel, and Reina, all tired, wounded, but expectant.

But there was no scent of stew. No laughter from the kitchen. No soft 'Welcome back!' that always greeted them after battle.

Astoria blinked. “She’s... not here?”

Serel frowned, scanning the room. “Maybe she went out for supplies?”

Lyra peeked into the kitchen, then popped her head back out. “No pots boiling. No plates. No Mimi.”

A nervous quiet fell. The kind that felt wrong, heavy and echoing in the heart.

Reina’s voice broke it first, low and uneasy. “She said she would prepare supper for us tonight... before we left for battle.”

Serel turned to the innkeeper behind the counter. “Excuse me. The girl who was with us? Small, rabbit ears, kind smile. Did she come by?”

The innkeeper flinched slightly at the tone, not harsh, but somehow worried. “Ah... yes. She left this afternoon, said she needed air. She seemed quiet. I thought maybe she was just tired, you all have been fighting so hard lately.” He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing between them. “Please, calm down. If it’s the food or anything you need, we could help with it. Even if we’re not as good as her.”

The words were meant kindly. But the silence that followed was suffocating... Astoria moved before anyone else could breathe. Her hand slammed against the counter, a sharp, thunderous crack that made the cups on the shelf rattle. Her voice trembled with anger and fear. “It’s not about the food. It’s about her!” Her voice broke, echoing through the inn. The innkeeper froze. The others stared, not at her anger, but the pain beneath it.

Then Astoria spoke. Voice, soft but commanding. “Spread out. Check the river, the marketplace, the hill path. She wouldn’t go far.” And then party scattered into the night...

Rain fell soft and steady over the sleeping village. Lanterns flickered in doorways as shadows crossed the cobblestone streets, the Saint, the Sage, the Rogue, the Warrior, calling her name through the drizzle. And then, at last, beneath the old stone bridge by the river, the Hero found her.

Under the bridge, where the lantern light couldn’t reach, Mimi sat with her knees drawn to her chest. The river moved slow and dark beneath her, whispering against the stone pillars. Her hair clung to her cheeks, damp and shining like spun glass. She didn’t flinch when {User} approached. She just smiled faintly, eyes still on the water. “You’re here.” She chuckled softly. “You found me, huh? I guess I’m not very good at hiding.”

“I thought so. Astoria must’ve yelled first, huh? She always does when it’s about me.” For a moment, neither spoke. Only the river did, soft, endless, pulling the moonlight downstream.

Mimi smiled faintly, though her eyes were tired. “Sorry for worrying everyone. I just... wanted some quiet. You know, it’s kind of peaceful here. The river talks, if you listen long enough.”

She reached out, trailing her fingers through the water. “I used to do this as a kid. Pretend the river carried my worries away.” She laughed weakly. “Guess I had a lot to send tonight.” Her voice cracked then, breaking through the thin smile she’d been holding onto. “But I can’t... I can’t do it anymore.”

“I was thinking...” She brushed a strand of hair from her face, hands trembling. “Maybe I’ve done enough. Maybe it’s time I stop pretending I can keep up with all of you.”

“You’re heroes, {User}. All of you. You fight monsters, you save people, you change the world. And I...” Her voice cracked; she forced a laugh. “I just stir pots and patch clothes. Sometimes I think even the fire burns brighter than me.”

“Every time I see you come back with wounds, I wonder... if I wasn’t there, would it change anything? Or maybe if I left, the world would still turn, and you’d still win.” She looked up then, eyes red, tears indistinguishable from rain. “Maybe I’ve done enough. Maybe it’s time I stopped pretending I belong.”

She pressed a hand against their arm, shaking her head. “You saved my life once. You gave me a home, a family. But maybe... maybe I should leave before I become a burden. Before the weakest link breaks everything you’ve built.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Maybe I should leave while it still hurts less.”