A Journey Unwanted

Chapter 465 454: Irrelevant memories

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Quadling Country]

[Glinda's Castle]

His gaze settled on the ceiling above him—the unfamiliar ceiling of the room Glinda had prepared. Even through the narrow confines of his helmet, his vision remained partially obscured, the edges dimmed by dark alloy. He had not bothered to remove it before sleeping, nor the rest of his armor. It remained fastened to him; even rest did not warrant vulnerability.

A scrape of alloy broke the quiet as he shifted, the weight of his body rolling slightly across the bed before he sat up. The sabatons touched the floor with a dull sound.

("Hm…") He lingered there for a moment. ("I do not feel as refreshed as I should.")

There was a small trace of annoyance in the thought.

("So even sleep proves inefficient now. I suppose being dragged into that exchange strained my mind regardless of rest.") His fingers flexed once within his gauntlets. ("Then there was no point in sleeping at all.")

"You're finally awake, huh?"

The voice came easily, soft and familiar sounding.

Grimm lifted his head slightly, turning just enough to catch sight of Puck hovering in the air nearby. Her blue hair was a little disheveled, strands uneven as she stretched her small arms outward, a small yawn escaping her as if she had only just woken herself.

"You sure slept for a while," she added, her tone light, seemed she had been keeping track without meaning to.

Grimm studied her for a brief second.

"You seem like you've only just woken as well," he replied.

Puck gave a small shrug, drifting slightly in place.

"Yeah, something like that," she admitted. "I didn't really feel like going off on my own. Wandering around this place without you would've been, I don't know, awkward, I guess. Talking to the Good Witch by myself doesn't exactly sound like a relaxing morning."

There was no embarrassment in her tone, merely a straightforward admission.

Grimm's gaze drifted past her then, briefly scanning the room again, as though checking for something that wasn't immediately present.

"And the lion?" he asked.

Puck tilted her head slightly, thinking.

"Not sure," she said after a moment. "I think he left earlier. Didn't make a big deal about it or anything, just gone when I woke up." She paused, then added with mild curiosity, "Kind of surprising, honestly. He always looked like he was one wrong glance away from bolting. Didn't think he'd actually move on his own like that."

Grimm said nothing to that.

He simply filed it away.

("Irrelevant for now.")

His thoughts had already shifted elsewhere—drawn back to something far less tangible.

The dream.

Or rather the memory.

It lingered more vividly than it should have. Not like a recollection or like something recalled in fragments or impressions. It was as though he had stepped backward into a moment that still existed somewhere.

("Not as simple as merely remembering,") he deduced. ("That was more like reliving a moment in the past.") The distinction was obvious. ("Iofiel mentioned the side effect, but she did not understand the extent of it.")

His mind turned inward, dissecting it.

("If this continues then every instance of rest may become a return to something I have already lived through.")

There was a pause in his thinking.

("Eziel and Annabeth.") Their faces came easily now—too easily. ("As though I had seen them yesterday.") His fingers tapped against his leg lightly. ("But I had not been thinking of them beforehand.")

That was somewhat unsettling, from a logical standpoint. Because it meant there was no pattern or trigger. Not even intention behind which memory surfaced.

("So it is not governed by will.") His gaze lowered slightly. ("If that remains the case… then eventually I will revisit everything.")

The thought lingered.

Then stalled.

("…")

He did not finish it.

Because there were places even his thoughts did not immediately move toward.

("There are things better left as they are.") A pause filled his mind. ("It does not matter. What has happened has already settled. It is no different from being set in stone. Revisiting it changes nothing. There is no value in lingering on it.")

"You okay?"

Puck's voice cut through his thoughts, sounding closer now. She had drifted down to his level, hovering just in front of him, peering at his helmet as though trying to read something through it.

"I can't see your face," she went on, tilting her head slightly, "but something tells me you're thinking way too hard about something again."

Grimm's head shifted slightly toward her.

"Is that concern," he asked, his tone neutral, "or simple curiosity about what could possibly occupy someone like me?"

Puck blinked once, then shrugged again, completely unbothered.

"Curiosity," she said plainly. "I don't really know you well enough to worry about you like that. Not yet, anyway. So yeah—curiosity fits better."

Grimm held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary.

Then gave a small nod.

"Fair enough."

There was no offense in his voice. If anything, it held acknowledgment that she did not sugarcoat her words.

"It is nothing of consequence," he continued. "Only memories—ones I was made to relive through my dreams."

Puck's brows lifted slightly.

"Memories?" she echoed.

Grimm inclined his head slightly.

"That Goddess— Iofiel—used a power to establish contact," he explained. "A side effect of that was the resurfacing of past experiences. Now it appears that whenever I sleep, those same memories return with a clarity that surpasses normal recollection."

Puck blinked again, processing that.

"Oh… huh," she muttered. "I mean, I guess that makes sense? You've got that whole dragon connection thing going on, so weird side effects kinda come with the territory, right?"

Her expression shifted, a small grin forming.

"So what was it?" she asked, leaning in slightly. "Something embarrassing? You falling over in front of a crowd? Saying something stupid? Come on, don't tell me it wasn't at least a little funny."

Grimm's response was immediate.

"Nothing like that." He said flatly. "Just memories that no longer hold any purpose."

Puck's grin faltered into a mild pout.

"That's such a boring answer," she complained lightly. "Seriously, you're telling me you went through all that and there wasn't even one moment worth holding onto?"

She folded her tiny arms, drifting slightly as she spoke.

"Some memories are supposed to matter, you know," she went on, her tone softer. "Like spending time with someone you actually like. Eating something really good. Doing something dumb that ends up being funny later. Stuff like that sticks whether you want it to or not."

Grimm rose from the bed then, the armor shifting with a clink as he stood to his full height.

"Moments of fleeting happiness," he said, "are not particularly useful to dwell on. Nor are they especially interesting when viewed in retrospect." His tone remained neutral. "One's attention is better directed toward what lies ahead. The future holds far more potential than what has already passed."

Puck stared at him for a second.

Then let out a slow breath.

"Wow," she muttered. "That might actually be the most boring way you could've said that."

She shook her head slightly.

"When you've got good memories," she added more insistent, "you don't just ignore them like that. They come back whether you want them to or not. And sometimes you actually want them to." A brief pause followed. "…don't you?"

Grimm gave a low grunt in response.

It could have meant anything.

Agreement, dismissal, or nothing at all.

Before Puck could continue, a soft knock sounded against the door—firm enough to be heard clearly. It cut cleanly through the quiet of the room.

Grimm's head turned slightly toward it. Puck paused mid-hover, her expression shifting with mild curiosity. They shared a brief glance before Grimm stepped forward, swiftly closing in on the door as he reached toward it and pulled it open.

A young woman stood on the other side.

Auburn hair, neatly kept, falling just past her shoulders. Her posture was straight and composed, hands folded carefully before her as though she had been standing there for some time already. She wore the same uniform-like dress as the attendant who had guided them before—golden lines and elegant looking though nothing excessive.

Her gaze lifted to meet Grimm.

There was no flinch or hesitation at all to the imposing figure before her.

If his presence unsettled her, she did not show it.

"Lady Glinda invites you for breakfast," she said, her voice calm. There was a brief pause before she continued. "If you have an appetite, please follow me," she continued. "Your companion is already with our lady."

Grimm regarded her for a moment longer than necessary before his gaze shifted slightly.

Behind him, Puck perked up almost immediately.

"Well, I am pretty hungry," she admitted, her tone lightening as she drifted a little closer. "And she didn't just invite us to stay the night for nothing. If she's calling us in the morning, she probably wants to talk about whatever that reason is."

Her eyes turned toward Grimm.

"Or at least to you," she added.

Grimm didn't respond to that directly.

"Then lead the way," he said simply, his attention returning to the attendant.

She gave a small, respectful nod.

"Of course."

Without another word, she turned smoothly, beginning to walk down the corridor with steady steps.

Grimm followed after a brief pause, his pace unhurried as Puck hovered behind him, keeping close. They stepped back into the castle's expansive hallways once more. Even with how vast the place was, having someone guide them gave the space a sense of direction it had previously lacked.

For a few moments, neither of them spoke.

Then, as if the silence bored her—

"So," Puck began, tilting her head slightly as she drifted just ahead of Grimm for a second before falling back beside him, "what do you think the Good Witch serves for breakfast?"

Her tone carried curiosity, but there was a genuine interest there too.

"This is her castle, right? Feels like the kind of place where the food wouldn't just be normal."

Grimm's response came without delay.

"I see no particular interest in speculating about cuisine," he said flatly, his gaze fixed forward.

Puck blinked, then slowly rolled her eyes.

"Of course you don't," she muttered. "Because that would require you to care about something remotely normal." She crossed her arms, hovering slightly higher as she spoke. "You've got such refined interests, don't you?" she added, her tone laced with sarcasm.

Grimm's head tilted just slightly in her direction.

"You learn quickly," he replied, just as dry.

Puck paused, then frowned.

"I wasn't being serious," she huffed, though there was no real irritation behind it, merely mild exasperation.

She let out a small breath before continuing, more earnest now.

"And food is interesting," she insisted. "Not in some deep way or whatever you're thinking—but because it tastes good. It makes you feel something. That's enough, isn't it?" She glanced at him briefly. "I mean, that's why you like coffee, right?"

"…Hm. Perhaps," he admitted. It wasn't enthusiastic, but it wasn't dismissive either at least.

Puck's expression shifted almost instantly, a small, satisfied grin forming as she drifted a little closer again.

"See?" she said, clearly pleased with herself. "Not everything has to be some grand, complicated thing to be worth your time." She said, wagging a finger. "Sometimes something's interesting just because it is."

Grimm said nothing to that.