Mia, You're the One Who Made Me Wrong. **Alden**

I stood before the campfire, my blood turning cold bit by bit.

The fire still burned, wood crackling and popping, and even the bowl of water I'd ladled for her before leaving remained in its place. Everything was exactly as I'd left it—except for Mia. She was gone.

My footsteps froze in place.

"Mia?"

No one answered.

My heart plummeted, my chest clenching as if something had seized it violently, making even breathing painful—she had vanished right under my nose, and I had lost her.

Chagrin, self-reproach, and an uncontainable irritability surged through me simultaneously. Why had I wandered off chasing a fat chicken? Why had I left her alone here, of all times?

The fat chicken with its twisted throat lay carelessly discarded on the ground.

Earlier today when she'd suddenly disappeared, I'd nearly torn the entire farm apart searching, to no avail. If Mia hadn't returned on her own, I think I would have hated myself for the rest of my life.

The dormant power within my body began to stir.

My legs rapidly twisted and fused—replaced by a tail several meters long, as wide as my waist where it connected. Black, cold, covered in sharp scales.

My pupils constricted sharply, and when I opened my eyes again, the surrounding scenery appeared before me in minute detail. The scents in the air also became suddenly crystal clear: the river, water vapor, earth, and the faint sweet fragrance that belonged to Mia.

I had once utterly despised this tail. It was cold, massive, hideous—like a curse I could never escape, constantly reminding me that I was different from normal people. I was a monster, a creature neither fully human nor fully other, with a human torso and serpent's tail.

I hated the sound of scales scraping against the ground, hated the pain of bones dislocating during transformation, hated the vertical pupils like a snake's. But now—

Now this thick, robust serpent's tail could help me move swiftly through this wide river channel, through the forest. Scales crushed over stones and branches, and under the cover of night, I traveled through every corner at an alarming, terrifying speed.

My tail tip brushed past a tree that would take three men to encircle. The tree crashed down with a thunderous sound, yet I felt as though I'd merely brushed aside a feather.

Wind roared past my ears.

For the first time, I felt grateful. Grateful to be a monster, grateful to possess this inhuman body, grateful I could see everything clearly in the darkness, smell her scent—

But I still couldn't find her.

Frustration and panic filled my mind completely.

Mia, my Mia, where are you? I can't find you. Mia, Mia!

"Alden?"

A clear voice suddenly came from behind me.

My movements halted abruptly.

I rushed back from the forest, passing through the last patch of tree shadows as moonlight was once again obscured by clouds. The sky darkened, yet the river water still rippled with silvery light.

Mia emerged from the middle of the river, her soaked hair clinging to her shoulders and neck in a light brown cascade, her thin straps saturated with water and pressed tight against her body, outlining her slightly rounded form. She raised her hand—the soft flesh of her arm swaying gently with the motion.

"Alden, is that you coming back?"

She was too far from the shore.

I couldn't maintain rationality—she had fallen into the water, and I had no time to wonder how she'd ended up in the river. I could hear the tremor in her voice when she called my name, could see her lips tinged slightly pale.

The river water wasn't calm; she floated in it like a leaf, liable to be swept away by the current at any moment.

Without any hesitation, I yanked off my shirt, pushed off the ground with my tail, and dove directly into the river.

The bone-chilling river water submerged my body and my tail—fortunately this river was wide enough, deep enough to accommodate it. It supported Mia from the river bottom while I swam toward the center at maximum speed.

"Mia."

I grabbed her arm and she seemed startled by me, her whole body shuddering. Instinctively I pulled her into my embrace, my other hand checking her shoulders and back—if she had fallen in, the stones along the riverbank might have scraped her delicate skin.

"Where are you hurt? Did the current—"

"Alden."

Mia suddenly interrupted me gently.

My movements paused.

She blinked. "I'm fine."

Mia spoke softly, then slowly opened her palm. A stone as white as moonlight lay there quietly, soft white light flowing slowly from within the stone, rendering her fingertips translucent.

"I just found this, not long after you left. It was in the river, glowing like the moon. Grandpa taught me to swim, so I easily retrieved it from the river bottom."

Mia's eyes curved into crescents. "Alden, relax. I'm safe. Look, isn't it beautiful?"

I stared at that stone as the string pulled taut to its limit in my chest finally loosened bit by bit. So it was just a misunderstanding.

That panic that had nearly driven me mad dissipated, replaced by a belated sense of exhaustion. I closed my eyes, and after a long moment, exhaled a low breath. "You can't leave my sight like that without a word in the future."

Mia nodded emphatically, then as if remembering something, extended her pinky finger toward me.

"Then let's promise."

"Whether it's me or you, neither of us can leave without a word. We'll accompany each other and move forward together."

Her playful voice settled into my heart.

Actually, I considered this a matter of course. Even without a pinky promise, it wouldn't change this established fact—though before she proposed it, it had been unilaterally decided by me.

She seemed to be awaiting my response.

I supported her waist with my left hand and extended my right hand above the water's surface, hooking my pinky around hers.

"Promised. We'll accompany each other and move forward together."

Mia suddenly froze completely.

"There's something beneath us."

She bit her lip, and the confident, capable swimmer from moments ago let out a startled cry, clutching my neck tightly and splashing water everywhere. Her legs instinctively wrapped around my waist, as if frightened by something beneath her feet—

Mia whispered in my ear, "Actually I noticed it earlier, before you came over. Something swam beneath my feet, like a crocodile's armor, or maybe some big fish, and it even lifted me out of the water."

"Could there be some kind of water monster in here?"

Her voice made my ears tingle pleasantly.

I curved my lips slightly and withdrew my tail. Fortunately, in her panic, Mia hadn't noticed that the thing frightening her was actually part of my body.

"There's no water monster. Perhaps it was water plants."

Please forgive my lie—I simply didn't want to frighten this little girl who hadn't yet reached her fifteenth birthday. At least until she grew up, she should have a stepbrother with legs, not a monster with a serpent's tail.

I carried Mia to shore in my arms.

I added some branches to the campfire to make it burn more vigorously, so Mia could dry her soaked hair. The wind in the deep night was cold, and Mia was obviously frozen. Her thin clothing wasn't sufficient to ward off the chill, and even wearing my shirt, she still curled into a ball, her nose tip reddened.

"Still cold?"

I asked in a low voice.

Mia didn't speak, only slowly inched a bit closer to me. She nestled into my embrace like a small animal seeking warmth—

The girl's soft, damp body pressed against me through the fabric, her faint fragrance mingling with water vapor and entering my breath. She burrowed in without any guard, murmuring, "A stepbrother is still a brother. Brothers should protect their sisters."

She muttered softly, placing her hands near the fire for warmth.

I lowered my eyes, watching her nestled in my embrace, my Adam's apple rolling slowly.

It shouldn't be like this.

When she hugged me, relied on me, held my hand—to her, these were all just normal displays of affection toward a brother. But for me—

When she drew near, I would instinctively hold my breath. When she smiled at me, my gaze would linger too long. Even her scent, the light in her eyes, the habit of her voice rising slightly at the end of sentences—all of it could easily affect my emotions.

This sense of losing control made me vaguely irritable.

I knew it was wrong.

Yet I seemed to acquiesce, allowing certain dangerous emotions to gradually grow and spread in the depths of my heart.

Mia, you're the one who made me wrong.