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Chapter 21 - Hunting With Lisa

"So? How was your night in your new house?" Lisa asked as we made our way through the dense undergrowth of Greenwood Forest. The morning mist clung to the ancient oaks around us, and our footsteps were muffled by a carpet of damp leaves that had survived the recent rains.

I adjusted the leather strap of my hunting pack, feeling the familiar weight of my bow against my shoulder. "Well, really nice, more comfortable. I finally have a room for myself after all," I replied, unable to suppress the smile that tugged at my lips. 

But even as I spoke those words, my mind wandered back to the events of the previous evening. Things had nearly spiraled into catastrophe when Rosaluna caught me in mom's room busy licking her cunt. 

That was too close, I thought, remembering the suspicion in Rosaluna's pink eyes. Her questions had been innocent but sharp ones.

But I'd managed to salvage the situation, thankfully. 

The incident had shaken me more than it should have. I think I'd grown too comfortable in Harold's life, too accustomed to this peaceful existence that I'd started panicking over things I would have once considered trivial obstacles. In my previous life, I'd navigated far more treacherous waters. Situations where discovery meant death or imprisonment for lifetimes, yet I'd escaped each time—not through luck alone, but through careful planning and ruthless execution.

The irony wasn't lost on me that in the end, it had been an alliance of the very women I'd deceived that brought about my downfall. They'd been more resilient than I'd anticipated, more stubborn in their pursuit of what they believed was justice. Their obsession had run deeper than I'd calculated—deep enough that they couldn't forget either the kindnesses I'd shown them or the betrayals that followed.

In this life, I won't be so careless, I promised myself, stepping over a fallen log that blocked our path. I underestimated them, women before. I won't make that mistake again.

"I still can't believe you really built a house on your own..." Lisa's voice broke through my brooding thoughts. She shook her head. 

I chuckled, though the sound felt forced even to my own ears. "Well, it was hard and exhausting, but with the right knowledge, anyone can do it." The words came out more dismissively than I'd intended, but I caught myself. In this world, such skills were apparently far rarer than I'd assumed.

Lisa stopped walking entirely, turning to face me with an expression I couldn't quite decipher. Her blue eyes seemed to pierce right through me.

"I don't think so at all," she said slowly. "You should be boasting about yourself more. I've watched you, Harold. You have an extraordinary capability of absorbing knowledge like a sponge absorbs water, and then applying it to near perfection in practice."

Was she exaggerating, or was I simply ignorant of this world's limitations?

Back on Earth, I'd always considered myself intellectually superior to most people—it had been both my greatest asset and my most dangerous weakness. But in this world, there were powerful mages capable of feats that would have been considered impossible in my previous life. Surely building a simple house wasn't that remarkable for such capable mages?

Yet as I thought about it more, I had to admit she might have a point. At thirteen years old, most children would still be learning basic arithmetic and struggling with simple chores. The fact that I'd not only constructed a dwelling from scratch but had done so with techniques that impressed even the adults in town... perhaps that was more unusual than I'd realized.

The assimilation ability I'd gained certainly helped—it allowed me to acquire skills at an accelerated rate. But would an ordinary person have been able to harness that power through years of dedicated study and constant practice? I had my doubts.

I decided to deflect the attention back to her, flashing what I hoped was a charming smile. "What about yourself? You're also very smart. You have extraordinary senses of awareness and vision, and despite not practicing magic regularly, you're really good at it—better than everyone else Isadora teaches, except for my sister."

Lisa's cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and she looked away, suddenly fascinated by a cluster of mushrooms growing at the base of a nearby tree. "You don't need to flatter me," she murmured, but I could hear the pleasure in her voice despite her protest.

"It's not flattery if it's true," I insisted, and meant it. Lisa possessed an intuitive understanding of magical theory that impressed even me. She could identify the subtle energy patterns in spells that others missed entirely.

We resumed walking, the conversation settling into a comfortable lull as we navigated deeper into the forest. The trees grew thicker here, their branches intertwining overhead to create a natural cathedral of green and gold. Shafts of sunlight pierced through the canopy, illuminating dust motes that danced in the still air like tiny sprites.

"There," Lisa whispered suddenly, her hand touching my arm to halt my progress. She pointed toward a small clearing ahead where a family of rabbits grazed peacefully, unaware of our presence.

I nocked an arrow to my bowstring, drawing it back. 

After years of hunting under both Tom's and Lisa's guidance, I'd become genuinely skilled with the bow. What had started as a necessity for survival had evolved into something approaching artistry. I could hit targets at distances that would have been impossible when I first arrived in this world, and my understanding of animal behavior, tracking, and forest craft had grown exponentially. Yet despite my progress, I found myself still learning something new from Lisa during each of our hunting expeditions.

Lisa had drawn her own bow simultaneously, the movement so fluid it seemed like a dance. "Which ones?" She asked me.

"I'll take the bigger one," I replied before releasing my arrow.

Thwick!

What happened next never failed to amaze me. Lisa drew back her bowstring and, in a display of skill that bordered on the supernatural, nocked not one but three arrows. The technique required incredible precision—the arrows had to be positioned just right, the draw weight calculated perfectly, and the release executed with flawless timing.

She let them fly in perfect unison.

Thwick. Thwick. Thwick.

Three arrows pierced through the remaining rabbits with surgical precision, each finding its mark in the exact center of the chest. All three animals dropped instantly, killed so quickly they likely never knew what hit them.

"I still don't understand how you can fire three arrows at the same time," I said, laughing with a mixture of admiration and disbelief as I placed my rabbit in the leather satchel hanging from my back. The technique was something I'd seen her demonstrate dozens of times, yet it never ceased to impress me.

Lisa moved between her kills, collecting them. "It's fairly simple once you understand the mechanics," she said with characteristic modesty. "But knowing you, you'll master it soon enough."

I ran a hand through my hair, pushing the white strands away from my face. "You certainly have a high opinion of my abilities."

"I'm simply being honest," she replied, securing the last rabbit in her own pack. "If you wanted to, you could surpass even Tom as a hunter within just a few years. You could make a good living from it."

"Unfortunately, my ambitions reach far beyond that."

Lisa's expression grew thoughtful, and she studied my face with those perceptive blue eyes. "You want to leave Millbrook."

It wasn't a question. She'd known for some time now about my desire to explore beyond the confines of our small village, to discover what lay in the wider world beyond these familiar forests and fields.

"Yes. Maybe in a few years." I nodded before glancing at her. "Have you given any more thought to my proposal?"

Lisa's gaze dropped to the forest floor, and she began walking again, her steps more hesitant than before. "I'm... not sure."

"Why?" The question came out more sharply than I'd intended, and I softened my tone. "You have nothing tying you to this place anymore. Old Martha is gone. You shouldn't spend the rest of your life here. Come with me—to the capital, and beyond."

She stopped abruptly, turning to face me with eyes that suddenly blazed with emotion. "I've lived my entire life in Millbrook, Harold. Everything I have left of my family is in that house where I live now. You're asking me to abandon the only place where I have memories of them."

"Is that really what you think I meant, Lisa?" I reached out and grasped her hand, stopping her retreat. 

She looked at me, those beautiful blue eyes flickering with uncertainty and something like hesitation.

"I can see the potential in you," I said, choosing my words more carefully now. "You have abilities that Martha, your mother, and your father would be thrilled to see you develop. Do you truly think they would want you to remain forever tied to the past, mourning them in this small corner of the world?"

Lisa said nothing, but I could see the internal struggle playing out across her features. She lowered her gaze, and I sensed she was wrestling with fears and doubts that went far deeper than simple homesickness.

"Look at me," I said gently, reaching up to lift her chin until our eyes met again.

"I've told you about my dreams—about reaching the pinnacle in this world. I know I will achieve it. But when I do, when I reach those heights, I want you there beside me. I want you to be among the people who share in that success."

The words hung between us, laden with implications I wasn't entirely ready to examine. Perhaps on Earth, in my previous life, I hadn't been able to find a way to balance my ambitions with genuine human connections. I'd convinced myself that caring for others was a burden, a weakness that would slow me down. In a world as harsh and unforgiving as Earth had been, such complications had seemed impossible to navigate.

But this world was different. This world had magic, possibilities that hadn't existed before. Here, I was certain I could find a way to have both—to achieve my goals without sacrificing the connections that made life worth living.

Lisa's eyes lingered on my pink ones. The afternoon light filtering through the forest canopy caught the brownish strands of her hair as she tilted her head slightly, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips—not quite believing, yet not entirely dismissive.

"You want me to stand as your wife beside you," she said. "Is that truly what you envision when you speak of becoming king of the world?"

"Something like that," I replied shrugging. There was no point in being coy about my intentions, not with Lisa. She deserved honesty, even if the truth might sound impossible to anyone else.

Her smile faltered slightly, and she looked away toward the dense undergrowth around us. "You've been telling me this since we were children, Harold. Back then, I thought you were simply playing at being a knight from the old stories. Sometimes I wonder if you still are."

 I had been sharing my dreams with Lisa for years—my plans, my ambitions, the future I saw stretching out before us. To her, they must have sounded like the fantasies of a boy who read too many tales of conquest and glory.

"Why would I jest about something like this?" I asked, raising an eyebrow as I let my hand fall from where it had been gently cupping her chin. 

Lisa was quiet for a long moment, her fingers absently adjusting the leather grip on her hunting bow. When she spoke again, there was a careful quality to her voice. "What about Rumia? You two have always been... close."

The mention of Rumia's name brought a complicated mix of emotions. I shook my head, perhaps more firmly than necessary. "Her father despises me—you know that as well as I do. And she's already left the village to study magic and etiquette at the capital. Her family is preparing her to marry some noble lord who can advance their political standing."

I paused, watching Lisa's expression carefully before continuing. "Besides, does it truly bother you that I might have other women in my life?"

The question was more loaded than it appeared on the surface. In this world, polygamy among the powerful was not just accepted but expected. Kings and nobles often had multiple wives for political alliances, and I needed to know where Lisa stood on this reality. If my plans came to fruition, there would inevitably be others—though none would ever hold the place in my heart that Lisa occupied. She was special like mom and Rosaluna to me and also Rumia I had to be honest.

At my words, Lisa averted her gaze.

"We should continue the hunt, Harold," she said finally.

I wanted to press the matter—to understand what lay behind her evasion, to know if the jealousy I thought I glimpsed in her eyes was real or wishful thinking on my part. But something in her posture warned me that pushing now would only drive her further away.

The art of building a harem, I realized with some irony, was apparently far more complex than conquering kingdoms. How did one convince someone to share a heart they wanted to claim entirely for themselves? Lisa already held a special place in my affections—that much I was certain of. But how far would she go to keep me by her side? Would she accept sharing me if it meant not losing me entirely?

These thoughts occupied my mind as we continued deeper into the forest, our footsteps muffled by the thick carpet of fallen leaves. 

We had been walking for perhaps twenty minutes when Lisa suddenly froze, her hand shooting out to stop me. She dropped into a crouch and gestured for me to follow suit. Together, we crept forward until we were concealed behind a thick cluster of elderberry bushes.

Lisa pointed ahead, and I followed her gaze through the gaps in the foliage. What I saw made my widen my eyes.

A small clearing opened up before us, and it was occupied by men who were decidedly not fellow hunters from our village. Four rough-looking individuals lounged around a hastily built fire, their clothes dirty and mismatched, their weapons crude but undeniably lethal. Bandits—or worse, smugglers dealing in the kind of cargo that decent folk didn't speak of in polite company.

They laughed and joked among themselves, passing around a bottle of what was likely stolen wine. But it wasn't their presence that took my attention, it was what I could see piled in the back of their weather-beaten carriage.

Sacks. Large, roughly sewn sacks.

Human shapes.

Definitely alive as I could feel faint magic essence from there.

"Well, well," came a gravelly voice from behind us, and my heart stopped. "What do we have here?"

Lisa and I spun around to find a sixth bandit—one we hadn't accounted for—standing just a few paces away with a crossbow trained directly on us. 

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