The next day, Ludger returned to the alley. He half expected her to be gone completely, but no—there she was, sitting at the edge of the shadowed street, her cloak thrown loosely over her shoulders, face tilted up toward the narrow beam of sunlight that cut between the buildings.

She looked almost relaxed, like some tired old woman simply warming her bones.

But the moment she caught sight of him, her posture stiffened. Without a word, she stood and walked back toward the ruined house, her cloak swaying behind her.

“Hey!” Ludger called, jogging a few steps after her. “You didn’t even let me finish yesterday—”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t even look back. She just slipped into the leaf-scented shadows of her home, vanishing from sight as if he weren’t worth acknowledging.

The same thing happened the day after. And the day after that.

Whenever Ludger showed up, she would always be there first, in the sunlight, sitting as though she were trying to soak up warmth she didn’t want to admit needing. And every time, the second she noticed him, she rose and disappeared inside without a word, shutting him out completely.

It was like he didn’t exist.

But Ludger clenched his fists and kept coming back. Ignore me all you want, lady. I’ve got more patience than you think.

After a week of the same routine, Ludger began to feel the weight of it. Every morning he dragged himself back to that filthy alley, only to see the woman soaking in her sliver of sunlight, ignoring him like he was no more than a shadow on the cobblestones. And every time, she vanished into her crumbling hideout the moment he came close.

By the seventh day, his patience was fraying. I thought I had more resolve than this, but watching her walk away without even glancing at me… this is torture.

At home, Elaine noticed Ludger early departures. One morning, as he tightened his boots by the door, she crossed her arms and eyed him suspiciously. “And where are you running off to every day, hmm?”

Ludger kept his tone casual, trying not to let anything slip. “Just trying to learn some new things. That’s all.”

Her green eyes narrowed slightly, as if she didn’t quite believe him. “New things? From who?”

“Does it matter?” Ludger shrugged, feigning innocence. “If I can figure it out myself, I’ll tell you. Until then, let me try.”

Elaine studied him for a moment longer, then sighed and shook her head with a faint smile. “You’re too much like your father—always hiding something. Just don’t get into trouble, Ludger. That’s all I ask.”

Ludger forced a small grin. Trouble? No, of course not. Just chasing after a half-human leaf-haired hermit who may or may not strangle me one of these days. Totally fine.

After another morning of being stonewalled, Ludger finally stopped to think. Standing in the middle of the alley, watching the woman’s cloak vanish into her dark little den, he rubbed his chin. This isn’t working. She’s not ignoring me because she can’t hear me—she’s ignoring me because she doesn’t want anything I’m offering. Which is nothing.

He sighed, recalling one of the simplest lessons from his past life. Business 101: give people what they want, and they’ll give you what you want. If she doesn’t want a student, then maybe she’ll want something else.

So instead of leaving, Ludger looked around. The alley was a mess. Dirt and rotting refuse piled in corners, stray cats scattered broken pottery, and weeds burst through cracks in the stone. Even the doorway to her house looked more like the mouth of a grave than a home.

He took a deep breath, rolled up his sleeves, and muttered, “All right then… if she won’t let me in, I’ll just fix up the outside.”

That morning, Ludger picked up the broken shards, swept aside piles of trash, and pulled out the stubborn weeds sprouting from between the cobblestones. When the smell became too much, he fetched a bucket of water from the well and splashed it across the alley, scrubbing at the stones until at least some of the filth gave way.

By the time the sun was high overhead, he was covered in dust and sweat, his small arms trembling from the effort.

From the shadowed doorway, a faint movement caught his eye. The woman stood there, half-hidden, leafy strands glinting faintly under her hood. Her expression was unreadable as she watched him work.

She didn’t say anything. She just stood there, silent, as if trying to decide whether to laugh at him or let him keep going.

Ludger smirked faintly to himself, not even looking her way. Got your attention, didn’t I?

For the next several days, Ludger returned to the alley and worked. He cleared broken wood, dragged bags of trash to the street corners, and splashed water until the stones actually began to show their original color. The weeds that once clawed up between the cobblestones were plucked out one by one, and slowly, the place lost its suffocating stench.

It wasn’t perfect—never would be—but by the end of a week, the alley looked less like a forgotten grave and more like a quiet corner.

All the while, the woman never said a word. She sat sometimes in the doorway, leafy strands brushing her hood, watching him scrub and sweep like some stubborn servant. Her expression remained unreadable, but she didn’t stop him either.

Ludger figured that meant progress.

But one morning, when he returned with a bucket and rag in hand, he froze.

The alley was filled with trash again. Not just a few scraps—heaps of it. Broken pottery, rotting food, torn sacks spilling spoiled grain. Piled right where he had spent the last days cleaning.

He stood there for a long moment, his eye twitching. No way she did this just to spite me. She might be grumpy, but even she doesn’t look the type to dig through garbage just to dump it back here.

Ludger crouched, sifting through the pile. It was random trash—things people would throw away on the streets, not from inside her home. Crumpled parchment, a cracked plate, spoiled vegetables.

Someone had been dumping garbage here.

His jaw clenched as realization sank in. So that’s why the alley was always this filthy… it isn’t just neglect. People are using it as a trash pit.

When he looked toward the woman’s doorway, she was there again, silent, arms crossed beneath her cloak. She didn’t say a word—just watched him, as if waiting to see whether he’d give up now that all his work had been undone.

Ludger narrowed his eyes, gripping his bucket tighter. Not a chance. If someone thinks they can turn this place into their personal landfill, they’re in for a surprise.

Ludger stood in the middle of the alley, staring at the heap of refuse. It clicked in his head after a moment—garbage collecting wasn’t a thing in this world. There was no organized system, no carts coming down the street to pick it up. People simply threw their trash wherever it was easiest, and places like this alley were perfect for that.

It made sense. But it wasn’t justifiable.

His hands clenched into fists. So this place is filthy because people are lazy, not because it has to be. Fine. Then I’ll make it clear to them that dumping here isn’t an option anymore.

He dragged the piles together, stacking broken pottery, spoiled vegetables, and rotting wood into a single mound. Then, standing back, he took a slow breath and focused his mana.

Create Water wouldn’t help this time. Instead, he stretched out his small hand and summoned a spark. Tinder.

The spark caught quickly, and soon the garbage was aflame. The fire spread across the mound, popping and hissing as wet scraps and dry wood fought against each other. Acrid smoke began to billow upward, curling into the sky where it couldn’t be ignored. The smell wasn’t pleasant—burned food, singed fabric, scorched leather—but that was the point.

Ludger folded his arms, glaring at the rising plume. The only ones who’ll suffer from this stink are the ones responsible for it. Either the people who dumped it here, or the ones who ignored it every day. If they’re unhappy, maybe they’ll think twice next time.

The smoke drifted higher, spreading over the nearby streets. Within minutes, heads turned. People muttered, wrinkled their noses, glanced toward the source of the smell. The alley that had been invisible for years was suddenly on everyone’s mind.

From the doorway of her crumbling home, the woman watched him again. This time, however, her lips curved into the faintest, most fleeting smirk—as if amused by the boy’s audacity.

The smoke rose high above the rooftops, drawing curious eyes and mutters from the nearby streets. Within minutes, a handful of townsfolk gathered at the mouth of the alley, craning their necks to see what was going on.

“What in the blazes—?” one man started, only to stop short when he spotted the culprit.

There, standing with his small hands on his hips, was a five-year-old boy calmly watching a pile of garbage burn. Sparks hissed in the air, the acrid stench of smoldering refuse clinging to the stones.

A child. Burning trash. With fire. No shit, Sherlock.

Murmurs rippled through the group. A few exchanged uneasy glances, then backed away. No one wanted to step closer. Everyone in Koa had heard the whispers about the swordsman’s kid who could use magic far too young. And now they were seeing it firsthand.

One woman coughed into her sleeve. “Not worth the trouble.”

“Aye,” another muttered, already retreating. “Let the brat have his fun.”

In the end, they dispersed as quickly as they had arrived, leaving only the smoke and the boy behind.

Ludger exhaled, smirking faintly. That won’t solve the problem for good, but it’ll make people think twice. If I keep this up, eventually they’ll stop using this place as their personal trash heap.

He tossed another charred stick onto the pile, watching the flames dance higher. For once, the alley didn’t feel like a graveyard. It felt like it belonged to him.

From the doorway, the woman leaned silently against the frame, her leafy strands catching the faint glow of the fire. She said nothing, but her gaze lingered longer this time, as though she were finally beginning to reconsider the stubborn brat who refused to leave her alone.

It didn’t take long for the smoke to draw more serious attention. A pair of city guards rounded the corner into the alley, hands resting on the hilts of their short swords. Their eyes immediately landed on Ludger standing before the smoldering trash pile, the flames still spitting ash into the air.

“You there, boy!” one barked, frowning. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

Ludger blinked innocently, pointing at the heap. “Cleaning up. Fire makes it easier.”

The other guard’s brow twitched. “Cleaning up? You’re going to burn the whole street down if you’re not careful!”

“Relax,” Ludger said, shrugging as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “If the fire spreads, I’ll just put it out. Easy.”

Before they could scoff, he lifted his hand and used create water.

A thin stream poured from his palm, splashing into a bucket beside him and quickly filling it. Ludger held it up for them to see, his expression calm and annoyingly smug for someone his age.

“See? Fire, water. Balance. I’ve got this covered.”

The two guards exchanged glances, then looked back at him. For a moment, neither spoke, until the first finally exhaled and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Fine. But keep it contained, you hear? If any of these flames touch a house, you’ll be the one answering for it.”

“Sure,” Ludger said, grinning faintly. “I’ll be careful.”

The guards lingered a moment longer, then turned and left, muttering to each other about “strange kids” and “magic brats” as their boots echoed away down the street.

Ludger watched them go, then turned back to the fire. That could’ve gone worse. At least now they know I’m handling things.

From the doorway, the woman still hadn’t moved, but her eyes gleamed faintly in the glow of the dying fire. This time, there was no scorn in her look—only quiet curiosity.

By the time the flames had burned down to ash and the last traces of smoke drifted off into the evening sky, Ludger leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. The alley was as clean as it had ever been in years—still scarred and weathered, but no longer reeking of rot and filth.

He was about to leave when the sound of soft footsteps made him pause.

The woman emerged from her crumbling doorway. For once, she didn’t wear that sharp, irritated scowl she usually used as armor. Her face was more neutral now, her leafy strands catching the faint light of the setting sun as she studied him.

Her voice was rough but even when she finally spoke. “How come a brat like you knows magic?”

Ludger glanced at her, then shrugged casually, as though it were no big deal. “Maurien taught me a bit. He says he’ll teach me more in the future.”

The woman blinked, her expression hardening at the name. “Maurien?”

“Yeah,” Ludger replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Old guy with a pipe. Looks like he could fall asleep standing. He showed me how to pull water out of thin air, then disappeared again like it was nothing. Calls himself my teacher now.”

For a long moment, the woman said nothing. Her gaze flicked to the ashes smoldering faintly in the center of the alley, then back to Ludger. Whatever she was thinking, she kept it hidden behind her mask of silence.

But for the first time since he’d found her, she hadn’t turned her back. She was asking questions.

Ludger smirked faintly. Finally. Progress.

The woman didn’t answer. She just stood there, her sharp green eyes unreadable, lips pressed into a thin line. The silence stretched, and Ludger decided to seize the moment before she could retreat again.

“If I’m bothering you that much,” he said, voice steady, “I’ll leave. But only after you show me a bit of healing magic. Just once. Then I’ll stop coming here.”

Her brows furrowed deeply. She let out a long, weary sigh, and for the first time, she looked… conflicted.

“You really don’t give up, do you?” she muttered.

Ludger smirked faintly. “Not really, no.”

Another silence followed, heavier than before. Then, almost reluctantly, she raised her hand and tugged back her hood.

Her hair spilled free—not normal strands, but thin, delicate locks that shimmered like living leaves, catching the last rays of sunlight as though they were veins of green glass. Even the air around her seemed to shift, carrying a faint scent of fresh soil and sap.

Ludger blinked, staring. Leaves… I knew it wasn’t normal.

“I can’t teach you,” she said flatly. “Not because I don’t want to. But because it isn’t human magic.” Her gaze hardened, as if daring him to laugh. “I’m half dryad. Not a monster, not fully human either. Just something caught in between. Humans don’t learn the kind of healing I use. It’s not meant for them.”

The words hung heavy in the air, but Ludger didn’t laugh. He didn’t even flinch. He simply studied her, eyes sharp.

“So that’s why you’re here,” he murmured. “Hidden away.”

Her lips pressed tighter. She didn’t confirm it, but she didn’t deny it either.