The Boar and The Missing Memory

The guards didn't answer his question. Not even a blink. They just stood there, unmoving, eyes forward like twin statues. River scratched his head and stepped closer to the doorway, frustration tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Seriously? Nothing?" he said, his voice laced with half-hearted annoyance. "I'm offering a meal, not a duel."

Still no response. They might as well have been carved from stone.

River crossed his arms. "Doesn't your back hurt? Or your legs? That posture can't be good for your spine."

Silence. The air around them didn't stir, not even a twitch.

He took a step out of the hut, narrowed his eyes at the taller one, and tried again with more sarcasm. "You know... I'm a great cook. I make a mean roast. Even a cursed dungeon rat would beg for seconds. That's a pretty rare endorsement."

Their gazes never wavered. The taller one didn't even flinch.

River sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Was every woman in this world born with a concrete skull?" he muttered under his breath. "Fine. But you could at least procure the ingredients, right? I'm not exactly stocked up in here."

Without a word, the smaller of the two women turned on her heel and walked away with the same ghostlike silence. River blinked. "Wait, seriously? That worked?"

He didn't have long to marvel. Barely fifteen minutes later, she returned—dragging a massive boar behind her. And by massive, he meant colossal. The thing looked like it could level a village if it got angry enough. Easily five times the size of a grown man, with tusks like carved tree trunks and fur thick as armor. It was a beast straight out of a nightmare or a gladiator's dream.

River stood there, mouth ajar. "Okay... you win. That's not just hunting. That's a war crime."

The woman didn't respond. She simply got to work. Her movements were fluid, practiced—blade slicing through hide and sinew with surgical precision. The muscles in her arms flexed beneath the moonlight as she carved through the creature like it was routine. Skinning, carving, and preparing. She laid out herbs, spices, and other ingredients like an apothecary with a flair for meat preparation.

And River? He just watched. Slightly disturbed, slightly impressed.

By the time she was done, the sun had dipped fully beneath the treeline, casting long shadows that slithered through the clearing. The fire pit outside the hut crackled to life, the scent of kindling and smoke filling the air.

River stepped up, cracked his knuckles, and rolled his shoulders. "Alright. Let the wizard cook."

He wasn't lying. If there was one thing a shut-in could do well, it was either grind levels in a game or cook like his life depended on it. River had spent enough time mastering recipes, watching tutorial videos, and failing repeatedly until it clicked. Now, standing before slabs of boar meat and a roaring fire, he found a strange sense of comfort. A strange normalcy.

As the scent of sizzling meat filled the air, even the statuesque guards shifted. Not much—but enough. River caught it—a twitch of the nose, a slight flutter of the nostrils. Victory. Sweet, roasted victory.

He grinned, basking in the moment.

When the meat was golden and glistening, he sat down and started eating. Juicy, tender, seasoned to perfection. His own stomach gave a satisfied growl.

Then, one of the guards' stomachs grumbled—loudly.

River looked up with a smirk. "Told you."

He extended a slab of roasted meat on a wooden plate. "Come on. A peace offering. I didn't poison it. I think."

The smaller one—still nameless—stepped forward hesitantly and took it. The taller one followed suit with a reluctant huff. It was the closest thing to approval he had seen from them.

They sat near the fire. No words. Just eating. But there was something in the silence now. Not hostility. Not suspicion. Just... silence.

[Affection Increased]

[You have earned one star from each individual of greater beauty]

[New Abilities Acquired]

[Sentinel – You gain a 3-second damage shield. Damage received while active is returned double to the attacker.]

[Hibernation – Enter a visible trance that restores mana rapidly. You may not move but remain unseen to enemies.]

River chuckled under his breath. "Now this is getting interesting."

He looked at the two women as the firelight danced across their faces. "So... what happens if I turn those stars into hearts, huh?"

He tilted his head, narrowed his eyes in the most smug, overconfident expression he could muster. "Ladies," he drawled, "I must say, this boar was wild, but your company is... untamed."

The smaller one snorted. Actually snorted. A burst of laughter escaped her lips. "You're a funny guy," she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

River blinked. "Wait—I was flirting, though!" He thought.

The other woman gave him a long, unimpressed look. Her glare could've sliced through steel.

River coughed. "Right. Back to the cooking table. Maybe less smolder next time."

Dinner passed quietly, but not coldly. There was a subtle shift. A shared warmth. Not trust. Not yet. But the walls weren't so high anymore. The silence between them was no longer hostile. Just... peaceful.

Back in the hut, River slumped onto the bed and stared at the wooden beams overhead. The scent of boar still clung to his fingers. His stomach was full, but his mind? Starving.

"How do I turn the hearts red..." he mumbled, mostly to himself. A joke. A question. Maybe a challenge.

But the fleeting amusement faded quickly, and his gaze grew distant. His mind, unbidden, started to drift backward. Past the meal. Past the fire. Past the arena and the suffocating hug of death. It spiraled back to his past life. To the one he barely remembered but felt buried in his bones like echoes of someone else's dreams.

To Isen.

"Isen," he called aloud. "Show me my last memory. When I was at the beach."

The air shimmered. A memory formed.

River—himself—getting kicked hard in the ribs. The pain was sharp, blinding. He crumpled like paper, gasping.

"No, not that," he snapped. "Before that!"

The memory rewound—past the beach. A castle. A throne. His father, regal and cold. A conversation lost to time, faces blurred by emotion.

"What happened while I was in the boat? On the sea?"

[Access Denied]

River sat up, tension coiling in his chest like a snake. The fire in his belly turned to ice.

"Why?" he whispered, voice low and tight. "Where are you hiding, Isen... or what are you hiding?"