Mutual Curiosity

It was just before eleven on Sunday night when Dylan's phone buzzed on the nightstand beside his bed. He had planned to go to sleep earlier than usual, but when he saw it was from Haru, he sighed and unlocked the screen to see what it was about.

The message began with an overly enthusiastic greeting—even for someone with her personality—and was full of emojis. She asked if she had woken him, immediately apologized, and then let him know she had decided to accept his offer to train together. She said she was ready, and if he was too, they could start bright and early the next morning.

Dylan couldn't possibly match the overflowing excitement of a young woman in the prime of her youth. So, he didn't even try. He replied briefly that it wouldn't be possible to start so soon, as they still had to wait for the streets to dry.

Her response came seconds later with a simple "Got it." And Dylan didn't continue the conversation. He silenced the device when he saw she kept typing, placed it face down, and undressed to go straight to bed.

Everything suggested Monday was going to be a busy day, and cutting his sleep short was the last thing he needed.

. . .

The next morning, Dylan stuck to his usual routine. It had rained non-stop all weekend, and though the skies had finally cleared, he decided to skip his jog. Instead, he did some light exercise at home to keep his body in decent shape.

After a healthy breakfast and seeing Roberto off to work, he got ready to prepare what he'd been planning since the day before.

Bad weather had been a good excuse, but it wasn't the real reason he postponed training with Haru. He'd delayed it to give himself time to put together a few things that might help her get started.

He thought of preparing a jump rope, an old towel from his mother he had kept since moving out, some wraps he hadn't used since he stopped injuring himself while running, and a couple of plastic bottles that he refilled with water and put in the freezer.

Even so, he felt it wasn't enough. While he had managed to improve his physical condition without relying on fancy gear, the situation with Haru was different. Their timelines, goals, and motivation were not the same, and that forced him to consider more accessible alternatives.

In the afternoon, Dylan took a bus to the nearest shopping center, about thirty minutes away.

There, he bought a few more things without going over the modest budget he'd set for her comfort. He got a cheap hand grip to strengthen her grip even during idle moments; a small resistance band for stretching exercises; a pair of knee pads, some inexpensive cotton gloves, and also a set of workout clothes that, after paying for, he regretted buying. Just the idea of handing them over felt...awkward.

Back home, he double-checked that everything was ready for Tuesday. The enthusiasm that had led him to spend money on things he wouldn't even buy for himself was driven more by curiosity than by a genuine desire to help her. Now that she had agreed to train with him, he wanted to see what she could achieve if she had a better start.

It's worth noting that in her past life, Haru had achieved a physical power comparable to that of fictional heroes, thanks to the evolutionary process triggered by progressing through the mana assimilation path. But Dylan was convinced it hadn't always been that way. She must've begun from the bottom; same as him, or maybe even worse.

In the early days of the shift, maybe she also had to hide from the dangers around her. At least until she completed her adaptation. Of course, he didn't know that version of her well enough to be certain his theory was true.

It wasn't impossible that her experiences had been smooth from start to finish. However, the future Haru had a temperament shaped by violence and aggression, which only reinforced Dylan's belief that her life had not been a fairytale.

At first, Dylan had assumed both versions of her shared that same hot-blooded personality. He'd quickly labeled her a spoiled rich girl who bullied others from her position of privilege. But the more time he spent with the Haru of today, the more he realized how wrong he'd been.

Sure, she was impulsive, proud, and a little bossy, but her attitude came from being constantly praised and pampered. She'd grown up in a bubble, and that explained her naivety. Her behavior could be annoying at times, but it was still within reason. She was polite... unless her imagination ran wild and made her see threats where there were none, like when she thought Dylan was some kind of criminal.

Her future version, on the other hand, was a completely different person. Her outbursts were far more common and could lead to insults in multiple languages—enough to make even her closest allies pale from the contrast between her looks and her words.

If that were all, Dylan might have chalked it up to trauma from a life marked by blood and combat. But there were deeper, more concerning changes that made him think that perhaps young Haru's hardships weren't only caused by monsters, but also by humans.

After all, she was—and would always be—a beautiful woman.

Among the many changes that triggered Dylan's suspicions—and further pushed him to train her—one stood out: Haru's apparent total disregard for other beings.

Though Diane had told him about several problematic incidents caused by her, none of them had resulted in human deaths. But not because Haru held back—rather, because she was always stopped in time.

To the public, she was everything people dreamed of in a leader: committed, brave, protective. She was a symbol of hope, a soft voice of reassurance. Some even considered her a friend. But those who'd seen her behind closed doors called her something else entirely. A name whispered only in certain circles: the Mad Archmage of the Alliance. A nickname kept hidden due to the implications it carried.

And it wasn't without reason. Among the many projects she was denied during her time at the top were some whose mere mention made people's skin crawl. The reasons varied: from lack of resources and willing personnel to direct warnings that insisting would cost her position in the government.

Even so, one topic kept resurfacing again and again at the table of state administrators: human experimentation. It arrived in the form of formal requests—documents signed by her with full protocol—presented as if they were just another academic study.

In a new world brimming with unknown powers, strange biomes, and inexplicable phenomena, curiosity about human evolution was inevitable. Sooner or later, someone was going to take that step into the forbidden. The concerning part was that Haru seemed willing to be the first.

That was a problem because humanity wasn't yet ready to face the political fallout of such a scandal. Relations with other species were too unstable, too fragile. That's why her path was blocked by the elders in charge—apparently supported by other generals and landlords of equal rank. Otherwise, it would've been impossible to stop her from moving forward with her plans.

Perhaps that's why, when the interspecies war reached its peak, she vanished. Not just from battle—she disappeared, period. Not even Diane, her assistant who'd endured her every tantrum, had any clue where she went. That absence became one of the main reasons diplomacy with the dragons was prioritized over outright war.

Ironically, it was thanks to her disappearance that his old friend rose in ranks. With Haru off the map, Diane's own skills—honed through harsh training with dragons—finally began to receive the recognition they deserved.

Still, Dylan couldn't help but wonder what might have happened if that powerful ''archmage'' had stayed and supported her people until the very end.

Because, for better or worse, she was the first to reach the peak of human power. The one who paved the way. The one who, with a different mindset, might've changed everything.

Now, with the chance to influence a younger, still-shapable version of her—one not yet scarred—Dylan couldn't let the opportunity pass. If his efforts worked, if he could influence her growth early on, maybe he wouldn't just change her fate, but the fate of the entire future he knew.

Whether it would go well or not, he didn't know. But he was fairly sure it couldn't turn out worse than before.

. . .

Tuesday morning, sometime between eight and nine, Haru finally showed up to begin their little agreement. She knocked lightly on the door, and Dylan—who had already warned by message—went to open it without much urgency.

When he opened the door, there was no trace of the emotion he'd felt the night before. But as he looked her up and down, his brow furrowed. A twinge of regret hit him, as she was way more prepared than he'd expected.

Haru had left behind her usual sweatshirt and instead wore brand-new athletic gear—clearly expensive and from well-known brands. She wore a slightly loose shirt layered over full-length workout pants. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail, and her hands were protected by fingerless training gloves.

On her arms, a pair of black elbow pads completed the outfit, and on her feet, she wore spotless white sports shoes that looked like they hadn't touched dirt yet.

Strapped tightly to her back was a small backpack, rounded by the volume of its contents, and hanging from one side, a shiny metallic water bottle reflected the morning light with a silvery gleam.

Everything showed that she had come fully prepared. And in front of that image, Dylan couldn't help but feel deflated: all the things he'd gathered to help her train suddenly seemed unnecessary.