A Journey Unwanted-Chapter 449 - 438: The stranger

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Quadling Country]

[Glinda’s Castle]

Grimm had a way with words that was difficult to place. Not overtly poetic, not particularly gentle, and certainly not comforting—yet there was something to them that lingered long after they were spoken, settling somewhere deeper than surface-level thought. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing was not something Puck had decided yet. But regardless of intent, his words had left an impression.

In truth, it would have been more accurate to say he had not given her a new idea, but rather forced clarity upon something she had already been circling without fully grasping. Being content did not always mean being happy—that much she had already suspected, but hearing it spoken so plainly, and so definitively, made it harder to ignore.

And so that thought stayed with her, quietly pressing against her mind as they continued moving through a now open hallway. The space stretched long and wide, its structure supported by evenly spaced pillars. Beyond them, the castle opened outward, revealing a vast garden—an expanse of carefully maintained life bathed in the glow of moonlight. The red hues of the flowers dulled into shades under the night sky, yet somehow appeared richer for it.

Puck’s gaze drifted across the garden as she floated beside Grimm, her movements slow.

("I wonder if I’ll ever actually be content...") she thought idly, her expression softening. ("And more importantly, would I even want to be, if that’s what it really means?")

Grimm’s words lingered again.

Contentment meant stagnation.

The idea unsettled her more than she expected.

She didn’t want that. Not really. Not the kind of stillness that meant stopping, settling, or giving up the chase of something more. That wasn’t living—not to her. Living meant movement, curiosity, tension, or something to reach for, something just out of grasp.

And she was far from satisfied.

But that only brought another question, one that sat heavier than the first.

("Then what would actually satisfy me?") her thoughts continued, more focused. ("If I chased everything I was curious about, if I saw everything there was to see... even if it meant...")

She paused mid-thought, her small brows knitting together as she abruptly cut herself off, shaking her head slightly as if to physically dismiss it.

("No, I doubt it...")

Satisfying curiosity, it was fleeting. A momentary high, something that burned bright and faded just as quickly. It wasn’t lasting. It couldn’t be.

("Maybe something like ideals...") she considered, her eyes narrowing slightly. ("Like that guy’s...")

Her gaze shifted, settling on Grimm, for a moment, she simply watched him.

("If that’s true, then it must be worse for him, right?")

Her pink eyes followed the steady movement of his armored form, the rhythm of his steps, the complete lack of hesitation or distraction. He walked like someone who already knew where he was going, even if the destination wasn’t physical.

Grimm was driven—by curiosity or maybe by something deeper—but even so, she doubted he had ever truly reached what he was searching for. If he had, he wouldn’t look like this.

Even without seeing his face, it was obvious.

There was no engagement with his surroundings. No pause to admire, no spark of interest. The castle, the garden, and the atmosphere—all passed him by as though they were nothing more than a pretty background to him.

And that, more than anything, made her curious.

"You’re clearly bored out of your mind," Puck finally spoke, her voice cutting through the quiet as she drifted closer, hovering near his shoulder as if trying to peer past the helmet. "I mean, not just a little uninterested, but really, painfully bored, like everything around you is just falling short of whatever it is you’re actually looking for. So tell me—what exactly was the point of exploring the castle in the first place? Was it really just for the slim chance that something here might actually catch your attention, or is there more to it than that?"

"Partially," Grimm answered without delay, his tone unbothered by the length of her question. Puck tilted her head slightly at the simplicity of the response, but he continued. "There is logic in assuming that a structure belonging to someone like the Good Witch would contain elements of interest—hidden or otherwise. However, I would also wager that anything of true value is concealed, either by design or by intent."

Puck frowned slightly, her expression shifting into a more analytical expression.

"If you already figured that much out—if you already came to the conclusion that anything actually interesting is probably hidden away where we can’t just stumble across it—then what’s the point of this?" she pressed, her tone more genuinely curious. "Why walk around at all if you don’t expect to find anything?"

"To see something else," Grimm replied.

That answer only deepened her confusion.

"And what exactly is this ’something else’ supposed to be?" Puck asked, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to follow his line of thinking.

Grimm did not answer immediately.

Instead, his stride slowed, then stopped entirely.

They had reached a wide opening in the hallway, one that led out toward the garden below. The night air drifted in, cool in the corridor.

Only then did he speak.

"It is something I took notice of the moment I first awoke in this realm," Grimm began, his tone lower, as if he were choosing his words with care. "A presence, not overt or constant, but persistent enough to leave an impression. A vague sensation, one that lingers just beyond direct perception."

Puck blinked, her confusion shifting into alertness.

"Huh...?" she muttered, straightening slightly in the air. "Wait—are you saying someone’s been following you this whole time? Us?"

"Yes," Grimm confirmed without hesitation. "However, it differs from your Phase Shift ability. That method is refined. This is less precise. It fades in and out, inconsistent in its presence. There are moments where it vanishes entirely, only to return without warning. That inconsistency is what made it difficult to track."

Puck’s eyes narrowed slightly, not in fear, but rather in intrigue.

"So something’s been watching us this whole time," she repeated slowly, her tone thoughtful rather than alarmed. "And it’s not clean enough to stay hidden, but not sloppy enough to get caught either. That’s kind of impressive." She hummed slightly. "But you decided now was the time to go looking for it?" she added, glancing at him.

"Better late than never," Grimm said, the words leaving him in that same indifferent tone he seemed to apply to everything.

Puck’s brow arched almost immediately, her head tilting as she drifted a fraction closer to him, clearly caught off guard by the phrasing.

"That’s a surprisingly normal thing for you to say," she remarked, her voice laced with mild disbelief. "I was half-expecting something a little more grim, honestly. You know, something about inevitability or how timing doesn’t matter in the face of strength."

Grimm did not respond to that. Instead, he took a step forward.

"I surmise our watcher has seen enough," he continued, his voice steady, as though he were stating a conclusion he had already fully accepted long before speaking it aloud.

Puck’s expression shifted, curiosity sharpening.

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" she asked, her tone narrowing slightly as she hovered in place, studying him. "You’re talking like you’ve been letting them watch you this entire time."

Grimm did not deny it.

"They were watching me for a reason," he replied, his head angling ever so slightly as if listening to something beyond ordinary perception. "Observation without purpose is inefficient. Thus far, they have gleamed enough—my temperament, my approach to conflict, the extent of my capabilities, and the general direction of my intent, however loosely defined it may be."

Puck’s eyes narrowed as she processed that, arms folding loosely.

"So basically, you’re saying they’ve been studying you," she said slowly, her tone grounded. "Not just watching for the sake of it, but actually trying to figure you out. Your personality, your power, and what you might do next."

"Correct," Grimm said simply. "Which means they now possess a functional understanding of who I am—or at the very least, a surface-level approximation sufficient for whatever purpose they serve."

Puck hummed, though her gaze sharpened further.

"But you said they don’t feel hostile," she added, more thoughtfully. "So if they’re not planning to attack you, and they’ve already gotten what they wanted out of watching, then what’s the point of sticking around?"

Grimm’s answer came without hesitation.

"That is precisely why their continued presence is notable," he said. "If hostility were their intent, there would have been action by now. The absence of that behavior means an alternative objective—one that requires something other than confrontation."

Puck’s lips pressed into a thin line as she considered that.

"Like what?" she pressed. "What kind of objective requires that much watching without doing anything? Maybe they want something from you? Help, information—something like that?"

She paused briefly before scoffing lightly.

"Actually, scratch that. If they’ve really been watching you long enough to figure you out, then they probably already know asking you for help would be pointless," she added, her tone turning dry again. "You don’t exactly give off the ’approachable and cooperative’ type of vibe."

"Words of a fool," Grimm replied flatly.

Puck’s eyes snapped back to him.

"What? It’s true," she shot back immediately, irritation flickering across her face, though it wasn’t particularly heated—more familiar than anything else. "You could stand to be a little nicer, you know. Not everything has to be so cold all the time."

"I will do so," Grimm said evenly, "when such behavior proves beneficial. Until then, there is no merit in feigning qualities I do not possess."

Puck stared at him for a moment, then let out a quiet exhale, her shoulders relaxing slightly.

"Yeah," she muttered, shaking her head. "Somehow, I knew you were going to say something exactly like that. I don’t even know why I bothered expecting anything different at this point."

A small, crooked grin tugged at her lips despite herself.

"You’re getting predictable, Grimm," she added, a hint of teasing slipping back into her tone.

Grimm merely grunted in response—noncommittal and uninterested in engaging with that particular observation.

But then he stopped abruptly.

His gaze shifted forward, locking onto something beyond the threshold of the hallway, past the open archway that overlooked the garden. There was a small change in him, Puck noticed immediately.

Her expression shifted, curiosity giving way to alertness as she followed his line of sight.

"What is it?" she asked, tone quieter and losing its earlier levity as she turned fully toward the garden.

And then she saw it.

There, standing amidst the moonlit expanse of red flowers and shadowed hedges—

A figure.