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Since childhood I grew in a monastery in Higashi. Be that as it may, I was only adopted by the old head priest. I was not a true monk.

This name too, Saga, is one I only sought from him, at the time I determined I would descend the mountain and enter the secular world.

After I departed Higashi, I resolved to wander far and wide. I saw the great mountains and rivers of Yan, captivating me to linger. A childhood memory came asudden, of the day I charged in error into the head priest's garret.

In it a deal of clutter was piled, dust like snow, yet held some rarities that roused the childly heart in me. Among them, a large picture scroll most caught my interest. The box that held it, I only remember 'twas taller at the time than myself.

Only later did I happen to learn, it was the witness of all the travels of my head priest, in the times he wandered as I do now. 'Twas near a hundred meters, and a work of no renowned artist.

For half a day I implored him, and only then with reluctance did he unfurl the scroll for me.

It has been however many years. To this day, I still cannot forget the falling leaves borne down by the wind, and my still-healthy head priest opening that scroll across the monastery courtyard—I... I had never before seen such magnificent mountains and rivers.

What I do not understand to this day is how scroll was not meticulous as a true, vivid and lifelike 'masterpiece' of ordinary, yet true enough, one was there in the blink of an eye. In the late autumn season, I felt, sensed the abounding vitality of those midsummer waterfalls—

Ah, mistake not 'one was there' as an adjective of mine. In that instant, it was as if truly, in reality, I found myself in the painting, visiting as a fowl flies over the forests. Mountains risen in layers of peaks, ponds filled with pebbles, tree shadows swaying, I was below a waterfall, vast, one I could hear!

But when I dazedly returned to my senses, it seemed I was only drawn in by the painting, lost staring at it and nothing more. The fit of shivers I even had, coming from those midsummer mounts and streams back to the late autumn courtyard, lives deeper in my memories yet.

My head priest told me this painting came to him from a chance meeting, along the K'u-t'an River in Yan. At the time, he was just slightly younger than I am now, only a mere novice monk. The chieh-tu-shih patrolled the south, and the regular way was blocked, the only option to take a river ferry.

Countless sails fluttered along the river, but far in the distance he sighted a lone boat, along the riverside, as though it did not belong to this scene full of life. My head priest was curious, and followed it close.

That lone boat sailed steady, unwavering. From the other vessel he caught one glimpse of her, gazing to the zenith of Mount Sky like one would in preparation for ascent, its clouds and mists winding round. For a moment he was sheerly confounded, nearly falling into the water, and within a single breath, that person saved him.

The woman was magnificent beyond compare. She spoke not a word, taking him all along the riverside, shoring at Fei-shan Crossing, walking for Mount Hui-ch'i. Repaying her kindness for saving him, all the way my head priest made meals over fresh firewood, carried their bags and cut down the brambles, toiling day and night.

The woman seemed to never need sleep, and whenever my head priest turned in for the eve, he would dream of past events he had never seen before. After waking, he would forget them deeply, feeling as though he had dreamt, and as though he had not.

After several recurrences, he fell into prolonged thought. The two of them were clearly travelers side by side, yet appeared as if two strangers, reflecting upon themselves deep in their own solitude.

On a certain day, the two arrived at a place of graceful mountains and rivers, and it seemed to move her. She stopped and gazed from far above, watching for several hours. My head priest asked her what she was doing, and she spoke: she was painting. Painting a scroll, a scene of crude mounts utmost risen.

My head priest was compelled to a brief nap, and when furiously awoken, he realized he was still inside the boat upon the K'u-t'an River. There was never any Fei-shan Crossing, and never that seemingly transcendent woman. Only new before his eyes now was a picture scroll, holding this exact painting.

What was that woman called?

I know not.

He never asked?

He never dared.

Moreover, when dreams seem fantasy, truth seems false, when what passes is perhaps a year, yet may be a snap of the fingers—between other worlds—where should one go to ask?

Traveling the country of Yan, I inevitably find myself thinking back on this story. Poring over it, it may have only been my head priest putting on a show for me, haphazardly making up a story.

But in my queries all across Yan, I was surprised to find this 'Scene of Crude Mounts Utmost Risen' has some small reputation.

'Twas said it was an obscure artist about a hundred years prior who left it, and past relatives of the Emperor could not obtain it with all their riches, giving it its fame.

By fortune I was close to Mount Hui-ch'i, and I had the sudden thought to take this chance, to see whether or not I could find the sublime scenery in that painting...

Hah hah. I found enchanting hills and waters in the mountains, and before I could react, I had already ended up here.

The cottage on Mount Hui-ch'i. That's exactly where we were too...

Could this place be a dream?

If it were a dream, then to thee, I would only be its illusion, and thou would be unable to trust my words.

If thou art unable to trust, then how dost thou judge the scenery before thee, Lava? Is it a dream, or not?

Slow down... you're gonna give me a headache...

Okay, then do you know how to get out of here?

Traveling to this day, I still have not come to understand how I may leave of my own accord.

To this day? How long have you been staying in here?

For a very, very long time. Allow me to count...

Your tea'll get cold soon. Don't get lost chatting; give the tea a taste.

Ah... thank you.

(Phew...)

Hm? Now that we mention it, Miss Dawn, don't tell me you're also...?

I'm just a local pawnbroker.

Miss Lava... I really appreciate your kindness, and admire your intent to protect the villagers from the Ink Spirits, but please think more about your own safety, if you have the time.

Those monsters aren't a threat to Rhodes Island's elite.

Words without falsehood. The good Lava is a person of fine ability. You need not worry!

If true, then I suppose it's alright.

Miss Lava, I've got a question, and I'm not sure whether I should ask it.

Ask away. You don't really need to be that reserved with me...

Miss Lava, have you ever looked close at the moon in the water?

No matter how the moonlight in the water is torn apart gleaming on the waves, when all comes to a calm, it will still be that same full moon.

If you pity the moonlight in that time it flickers across the water, then it's not at all necessary you wet your shoes and brave the cold.

Miss Lava, so as to fish up that moon in the water, would you... give your utmost thought?

I... I don't think I would? There's not much sense in doing things like that, is there?

What's got you mentioning this out of nowhere?

I don't know what that bright moon of yours looks like, Miss Lava, and I have no way to point out where you're falling short. But the moon in the water, in the end, is only the moon in the water.

It's not necessary to do it for our sakes.

You mean...?

Benefactors! My benefactors! You're alright, aren't you?

Oh, man, you even got tea going, and you still didn't call me over.

I assume these two are also esteemed guests of P'o-shan Village? I'll go brew the tea, and bring some pastries too. Take your time to chat.

And who might this be?

The shopkeeper here. She's called Dawn. Dawn like the daybreak.

Benefactor, what of those Ink Spirits? Oho, I see! Surely, with your invincible might, you drove them all away!

—Is that little girl safe yet?

She's safe. Safe and sound.

Ohh, ohh, benefactor, how could you doubt me so... I've waded through dangers extreme without shedding a tear, and now I am somewhat sad...!

Here's your tea.

Mmm... I can tell it's expensive with just a whiff.

How insightful, benefactor! Plain folk like me could only reckon it bitter. We'd never make sense of the taste.

It's just ordinary tea. They only sell this one kind in the market. Please forgive me if it doesn't suit you.

Phhaahh~ I might be used to black tea and coffee, but there's just this special kind of taste to Yan tea whenever I try it.

My hometown also has tea whose flavor can be said to be unique. If the chance should come, thou must allow me to display my skills.

Haaahhh...

Alright there, Lava? You getting sleepy?

I'm not. I just kind of chilled out suddenly...

Tea nourishes the heart. What troubles you can't be resolved just by rushing about.

We still don't have much of a lead.

In the world within the painting, one can only take things slowly.

Oh, yeah! Saga, have you ever seen this thing before?

I do not know at all... Only, I know not why, but I feel I have seen this object somewhere in the past...

Really?!

Allow me to think... ho... this texture... this material... I have, somewhen, somewhere, experienced it before...

Huh?

The light reflecting off the tea...

What's up?

Ho-hohh!? What's happening? Why is everyone standing up?

The sky?

It's turning day...?

Gkhaa!

H—How did these things get near here?! This is the noontime street!

N—No, the horizon... wh... when did the sun move over there? What's happening in Mount Hung-tung!?

Gkhaa!!

Aaaghhh! These things, they're—they're eating people—! Run, get out of here!

...It passes on just like this, sun rising and moon setting, as it should be.

Hmph.

Does she mean... to disturb my peace?

What... what's happening?

Why would the sun...?

—This is how the sun's meant to be, Lava.

Huh? Well, of course I know that, yeah, I'm just wondering why it went back to normal—