I am not from here.

In the soft glow of moonlight, Emma found herself captivated by Arren's striking appearance. He seemed to emanate an ethereal quality as if he were a celestial being descended from a realm beyond her comprehension. Thoughts raced through her mind: how should she respond to someone who appeared to carry the weight of so many trials? His mixed features, a blend of human and something otherworldly evoked a strange beauty that drew her gaze. Emma regarded him with a sympathetic expression, uncertain of how to bridge the chasm of awkwardness that had unfolded between them.

Nestled beside her, Arren pulled the tattered cloak around himself, enveloping his form in its comforting fabric. His eyes remained fixed on the ground, clearly embarrassed by the sudden intimacy of the moment. Emma felt an urgency to dispel the silence, desperate to find words that would ease the tension.

"So, uh, what is your magic tier?" Arren finally ventured, his voice hesitant.

Emma blinked in surprise, confusion washing over her. "What?" she stammered, her heart racing. How could she possibly explain? She didn't even belong to this world—would he think she was mad?

Looking at her with expectant eyes, Arren awaited her response.

"I don't have a magic tier," she finally blurted out.

Arren frowned, disbelief evident in his expression. "Are you kidding?"

"No, I'm serious."

He regarded her for a moment, contemplation flickering across his features. It seemed he suspected she was concealing something profound. "Oh, well, if you don't want to share, then that's fine," he replied, a hint of disappointment creeping into his voice.

Emma's mind raced at his dismissive tone. Is he upset now? she wondered, the atmosphere thickening with unease. Determined to shift their focus, she inquired, "But why doesn't anyone else live here? It's such a beautiful forest."

Arren absently toyed with the blades of grass beneath his feet, still avoiding her gaze. "Like I mentioned, I've been banished from my world," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Is he being serious? Emma thought incredulously. He seems so forlorn. 

"Arren, I really am not from this world," she insisted, a sense of urgency lacing her words.

He scoffed, standing abruptly and turning his back to her. "Wow, that's your idea of a joke? I get that I'm not used to company anymore, but even I…" he trailed off, visibly frustrated.

Cutting through his ramble, Emma replied with conviction, "I'm not joking!"

He turned to her, clearly skeptical. "Emma, I helped you. Can't you at least be honest with me?"

Exasperation bubbled within her. This guy won't believe a word I say, she thought, feeling the tension mounting as they made their way back to Arren's home. He focused on the path, determined to avoid any further conversation, while Emma racked her brain for topics to discuss, all in vain. By the time they reached his house, silence enveloped them like a thick fog.

The enchanting night sky sparkled with stars and a glowing moon, standing in stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere between them. Upon entering, they found Felix still unconscious on the bed. Wrapped in a blanket, he looked peaceful, and as the two entered, he stirred slightly but did not wake. With no other options, Arren draped another blanket over Emma, who could do little but watch as Arren retreated to a small room above—an attic of sorts—while she settled onto the sofa in the spacious living room designed to accommodate several guests comfortably.

"Is he serious? This room is large enough for both of us," Emma thought, frustration swirling inside her. "He's the first person who just won't take my word for anything. How can I communicate with him if he refuses to believe me? Ugh! Felix, please wake up!" 

As dawn broke, Emma remained asleep, and Felix lay still unresponsive. Meanwhile, Arren busied himself in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for both of them. He gathered an assortment of containers and began cracking Griffin's eggs one by one, their rich, strange aroma enveloping the air. He selected a few fresh vegetables to complement the dish, his movements methodical and focused.

The enticing scent wafted through the household and reached Emma's sensitive nose, stirring her from slumber. "I want to sleep longer, but who is in the kitchen whipping up a banquet?" she mumbled sleepily as she rubbed her eyes. Eventually, curiosity drew her to the kitchen, where she found Arren meticulously plating their breakfast at the table.

"Thanks for the food," Emma said, taking a seat.

"Good morning," Arren responded, a hint of irritation in his voice at her lethargic tone.

"Mornings are rough," Emma murmured, mimicking his words half-heartedly.

Arren shot her a pointed glare, his annoyance clear. "Look, I thought about what you said."

"Did the attic give you a new perspective?" Emma shot back, attempting to lighten the mood.

The joke fell flat, and an uncomfortable silence followed. "I believe you," Arren finally admitted. "I haven't seen anyone marvel at trees and food like you do. They're either mentally unstable... or they truly come from a different world."

"Oh, so you thought making fun of me was your first choice this morning," Emma retorted, half-heartedly concentrating on the Griffin's egg.

"Seriously, how did you end up in this world?" Arren prodded further, his tone shifting.

Emma, still groggy, attempted to respond but ended up mumbling incoherently with a spoon sticking from her mouth.

"Emma, eat first," he urged, a slight smile breaking through his irritation.

"Okay," she said, finally focusing on her food.

Once she finished her meal, Emma gathered the courage to ask, "Can I take a shower?"

"Your clothes need a wash, too. They look filthy."

"So, will you use magic to make me new ones?" Emma teased, a playful glint in her eyes.

Arren frowned at her. "Not everyone can do that. Only those licensed can perform specific jobs as they require a different kind of magic entirely."

"Wait, Frieda could do that, and she's around my age!" Emma exclaimed, incredulous.

"What? When did the government start allowing children to make clothes?" Arren replied incredulously.

"Maybe it happened after you left," she quipped, a triumphant smile spreading across her face.

Arren hissed slightly at her, frustration creeping in. "I know almost everything that goes on in the kingdom and the town," he countered.

"Wow, and how do you know that?" Emma asked, genuinely curious.

"You don't need to know. I have some leftover fabric; I'll sew you something," he said, dismissing her questions as he gathered materials while she slipped away to take her shower.