I Just Wanted a Peaceful Life… So Why Do Heroes Worship Me?

The masked intruder never returned. But their absence lingered longer than their presence.

A day passed.

Then three.

By the end of the week, the sanctuary felt... different. Not unsettled—Rei was far too meticulous to allow that—but watched. The birds still sang. The lanterns still swayed. But there was a hush between breezes, a stretch in the shadows, like something unseen was quietly pressing in at the edges.

Rei noticed, of course. He noticed everything.

But instead of reinforcing the wards, he trimmed the grass near the spring. Instead of rewriting the sigil web, he cleaned the tea jars. There was no rush. No panic. The world would poke, prod, and prod again. That was its nature.

He would not flinch. That was his.

Lynna, on the other hand, flinched daily.

Ever since the masked man left hunched and humiliated, she'd been oscillating between open admiration and fiery denial. She still trained loudly, still critiqued every herb she tasted, but she now watched Rei — the way someone might watch a dormant volcano and wonder if the smoke meant anything.

It didn't help that Auron had started teasing her.

"I'm just saying," he said one morning while adjusting a ward, "you keep showing up wherever Rei is. Could be coincidence. Could be subconscious gravitation."

Lynna threw a stone at him.

Auron dodged without looking.

Kreg had begun preparing extra servings at every meal.

"For the tsundere," he'd say with a wink, then feign innocence when Lynna glared.

Ellyn, thankfully, stayed out of it. Mostly.

But she did leave a tiny charm on Lynna's windowsill—just a passive one. For "emotional clarity," she claimed. It hummed when Lynna was lying to herself.

It had been humming for days.

Zephyr, ever serene, curled at the sanctuary's eastern watchpost. The stormling had changed subtly in the past week—grown quieter, yes, but also more alert. He stared into the woods with the calm patience of something that sensed movement beyond the trees.

Rei understood.

Which was why, on the seventh morning since the incident, he rose earlier than usual and stepped out with Fluff at his heels. They walked to the stream. Sat by the mossy bend. Waited.

And before long, they came.

Not masked this time.

Just... strangers.

Two of them.

One in ceremonial priest's robes, though worn and travel-stained. The other in a hunter's cloak with foreign markings along the hem—jagged teeth patterns from the southern flame tribes.

They didn't approach with aggression.

They approached like scholars.

Rei greeted them without standing.

"You're early," he said.

The priest bowed. "Your sanctuary is... known. Not well, but quietly. And your recent echo—let's just say it stirred birds in many nests."

The hunter spoke without bowing. "We came to ask. Not demand."

Rei raised a brow. That was rare.

"You seek knowledge," he said.

"Yes," the priest said. "Of the creature you calmed. Of the girl who trains here. Of the man who left quietly... and how he left."

Lynna appeared on the roof, squinting.

"Visitors?" she called. "Polite or irritating?"

"Still deciding," Rei replied.

Fluff yawned audibly.

The hunter watched Rei closely. "You don't act like someone guarding power."

"I'm not," Rei said simply. "Power doesn't need guarding. Peace does."

The priest inhaled slowly. "Would you consider… sharing?"

"No."

Pause.

"Would you consider trading?"

"No."

They exchanged glances.

The hunter tried again. "Then what do you want?"

Rei looked at them both, his expression soft but unblinking.

"To be left alone."

That quiet landed heavier than a roar.

The priest bowed again, slower this time. "We understand. But the world is stirring. And when storms rise, those who seem still become landmarks."

"You'll be watched," the hunter said. "By others less polite."

"I know," Rei said.

And then, because he was Rei:

"You may stay the night. Rain is coming."

The priest looked up in surprise. "We weren't—"

"But you will," Rei said.

And they did.

That night, by the fire, Auron shared simple food and simpler stories. Lynna sat far too close to Rei and pretended not to realize. Zephyr slept lightly. Fluff dozed with one ear raised.

The priest asked no more questions.

The hunter said little.

But both listened.

And when they left at dawn, they bowed without being asked.

As they vanished into the fog, Ellyn appeared beside Rei with a mug of barley tea.

"They'll talk," she said.

"I know."

"They'll bring more."

"I know."

"You'll have to do more than just sip tea soon."

Rei looked down at the cup in his hand. Steam curled upward. Calm. Warm.

"I hope not," he said softly.

But the truth hung in the air, unspoken.

The ripples had started.