A Journey Unwanted

Chapter 473 462: Still a child

[Realm of Little Alice]

The space that greeted him on the other side of the door was familiar.

A gently sloping grassy hill stretched beneath his feet, the blades shifting with the passing wind. Beyond it, vast plains extended outward—so far that the horizon seemed less like an endpoint and more like something that was unfinished, as though the world simply continued beyond perception.

At the center of it all stood a single tree.

Tall, its presence was not imposing though. It simply stood rooted firmly in the middle of that open expanse, its branches swaying beneath a sky that was far too clear. Above, that brilliant blue stretched endlessly, scattered with drifting clouds and dominated by the gaze of the sun.

It was simple.

Painfully so.

The kind of place Grimm would ordinarily dismiss without a second thought.

His helmet tilted slightly upward as his gaze settled on the sky, the polished surface betraying nothing of what lay beneath.

("The moment I opened that door, I was brought here immediately.") The realization came easily, filed away without much concern. There was no visible transition or a sensation of movement—just one space replaced by another.

His attention shifted, scanning the landscape until it found the only thing that truly stood out.

A small figure.

Fragile, at a glance.

The blue dress and apron moved lightly with the wind, golden strands of hair swaying gently. And those eyes—unnatural in their depth—remained fixed on the horizon ahead.

Little Alice stood at the edge of the hill, her small hands folded neatly behind her back, posture composed in a way that seemed as though it was almost practiced.

Grimm approached without hurry, his steps heavy against the grass before coming to a stop at her side. He did not look at her immediately—his gaze followed hers instead, settling over the endless plains below.

"Is there something about this that you find particularly interesting?" he asked, his tone flat. "Or are you simply content staring at something so uneventful?"

Alice made a small sound, sharp and indignant.

"Hmph," she huffed, her nose lifting ever so slightly. "Would you prefer I return things to how they were before? When everything here was in complete disarray—when nothing made sense, when everything was broken and unstable? Would that satisfy your sense of interest?"

Grimm did not hesitate.

"It was more interesting to look at," he admitted plainly, folding his armored arms across his chest as though the answer required no further thought.

Alice's lips pressed together for a brief moment before she turned her gaze forward again, her chin lifting just a fraction higher.

"Then I will keep things exactly like this," she said, her tone carrying a hint of stubbornness—almost smug, as though she had secured some small victory in defying him.

A low sound escaped Grimm—something that might have been amusement, dulled and muffled beneath the confines of his helm.

"I see," he said simply. "And no elaborate tea party this time? No dolls arranged neatly to entertain your guest? That's a departure from your usual approach."

"I would rather not waste my time or effort on someone like you," Alice replied immediately, a small huff accompanying her words. She did not look at him, her gaze remaining fixed ahead as if refusing to acknowledge him directly.

Grimm tilted his head slightly.

"You can construct an entire space like this—something that resembles a realm in its own right," he said, his tone unreadable. "And yet you concern yourself with the idea of wasting something as trivial as a tea set?"

"It is not about scale," Alice answered, her voice sharpening just slightly, though she maintained that composed posture. "It is about principle. And you," she added, her brows knitting faintly, "are an uncouth man who lacks even the most basic sense of manners. It is only natural that I would not extend such things to you."

There it was.

A lingering irritation.

It seemed their last encounter had not faded from her mind.

But even so, she had still called him here.

Grimm's gaze lingered on her face—the way it remained carefully composed, almost too composed. Her eyes stayed forward, unwavering, as though looking at him directly was something she was actively avoiding.

"Trying so hard to sound composed and proper tends to have the opposite effect," Grimm remarked flatly. "It becomes obvious."

Alice scoffed, the sound small and sharp, though softened by her voice.

"As if someone like you would understand anything about composure," she shot back, her tone carrying a faint bite. "You lack even the basic awareness required to recognize it."

"I could say the same about a brat who insists on pretending otherwise," Grimm replied without hesitation, his words unfiltered.

"I am a young lady," Alice snapped back immediately, her composure cracking just enough for a small twitch to pass through her eye. "Not a brat. If you insist on addressing me, then you will do so properly."

"So you say," Grimm replied, his tone carrying a note of skepticism that made it clear he did not truly accept her claim at face value. There was no harshness in it, just his own unimpressed doubt. "But I doubt you called me here simply to indulge in idle conversation for its own sake."

He paused briefly, his head tilting just slightly as though another thought had surfaced—one he found just questionable enough to voice.

"Or…" he continued, almost lazily, "don't tell me you've grown lonely and decided to summon me of all people to alleviate it. That would be an unfortunate development."

Little Alice's reaction was immediate.

She stiffened, her entire posture shifting as though something in his words had struck far closer than she would ever admit.

"As if I would ever resort to you if I felt something so trivial as loneliness," she shot back, her voice sharp with offense, her brows drawing together as she finally turned her gaze toward him fully. "Do not mistake my actions for something so pathetic."

Grimm regarded her quietly for a moment.

"Then it is curiosity," he concluded instead, his tone shifting into something more matter-of-fact. "You wish to see what I will do next. That would be far more consistent with what I have seen of you."

Alice hesitated—only briefly.

"…Maybe," she muttered, the word slipping out with far less force than her earlier retort. Her gaze turned away again, as though unwilling to fully commit to even that admission. "You've spoken to that insufferably nosy Goddess, haven't you?"

"Yes," Grimm answered without hesitation. "She made her intentions quite clear. She wants Ddraig dead. Albion as well."

Alice let out a small scoff, though it seemed oddly restrained almost.

"And she believes you are capable of something like that?" she asked, a small, mocking curve forming at her lips as she finally looked at him again. "Perhaps she allowed herself to be swayed by whatever empty boasting you presented to her."

"The words of a brat carry little weight regardless," Grimm replied evenly.

"Young lady," Alice corrected immediately, her glare snapping back into place, sharp despite her size. "I will repeat myself. If you insist on speaking to me, then you will address me properly."

Grimm observed her for a moment, unmoved.

"You are remarkably easy to provoke," he noted, his tone remaining the same. "It hardly requires effort."

Alice exhaled sharply, frustration bleeding into the sound as she turned more fully toward him.

"So you finally decide to act your age?" Grimm continued, his voice pointed. "Or is that still something beneath you?"

That did it.

She turned completely, planting her small hands firmly on her hips as she glared up at him—her expression fierce, even if the disparity in their presence made it difficult to take as a true threat.

"You speak far too freely for someone standing in a space that exists solely because I allow it," she said, her voice lowering slightly, a more dangerous threat threading through it despite her earlier indignation. "Do not forget—I can unmake this entire place in an instant. I could leave you with nothing. No ground, no sky, nothing but an endless void."

Her words lingered, her intent malicious and heavy.

Grimm did not react.

"That would be interesting, I suppose," he replied after a brief moment, as though considering it from a purely detached perspective. "Though ultimately, it would be pointless."

There was no hesitation or doubt.

"Dragons adapt," he continued, his tone almost instructional. "Given enough exposure and enough time, they find a way to survive. Even in environments that should not sustain life." His head tilted slightly as he looked down at her. "Do you need to be reminded of what I am?"

Alice huffed again, the sound sharper this time, her irritation only deepening.

"As if that is the only method available to me," she snapped, her voice carrying a brittle note. "There are far more permanent ways to ensure that that uncouth mouth of yours never speaks again."

"It is difficult to take your threats seriously," Grimm said flatly, his arms still folded as he regarded her from above, "when they are delivered by someone so small."

Her eye twitched again.

A small break in composure once more—but a clear one.

For all her power, for all the control she held over this space…

She was still, unmistakably—

A child.