A Journey Unwanted-Chapter 448 - 437: Being happy or content?

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Quadling Country]

[Glinda’s Castle]

"This castle is a lot bigger than I thought it would be," Puck’s voice drifted lightly through the hallway, though there was a trace of genuine surprise beneath her tone as she floated alongside Grimm, her gaze moving more actively now from one detail to the next.

They moved through one of the castle’s vast corridors, it seemed designed less for practicality and more for the sake of grandeur. It stretched long and wide, its proportions almost excessive, with doors placed at even intervals along the walls—as though whatever lay behind them had been carefully contained. A long red carpet ran beneath their path, its gold threading stretching with it and colored windows lined the outer wall.

Every so often, a painting interrupted the uniformity—portraits and landscapes alike, many depicting elegant figures, like damsels in poses or merely painted objects. The space, for all its size, did not feel empty.

None of it, however, seemed to hold Grimm’s attention.

The General walked steadily forward, his gaze occasionally shifting toward the passing colored windows instead, watching the filtered light as it moved across the floor and walls, as though that held more value than anything placed within the hall.

"Other than the fact that mana permeates every inch of this structure," Grimm said at length, his voice unaffected, "there is very little here that I would consider worth noting." He did not slow, nor did his tone suggest disappointment, for that would mean he had any expectation.

"Hm, yeah, I guess I can’t really argue with that," Puck admitted after a moment, though she continued to look around as she spoke, her curiosity not quite as easily dismissed. She turned slowly in the air, twirling once before drifting backward, her eyes narrowing slightly in thought. "But it is kind of interesting, if you look at it a little differently," she added, her voice taking on a more thoughtful edge. "The reason the Good Witch’s mana spreads through the entire place, it doesn’t feel like it’s just because she has a massive reserve. It’s more like she’s duplicating it. Like she’s taking small portions and spreading them out." She tilted her head slightly, as if trying to better articulate what she sensed. "It’s actually way more impressive than just having a lot of mana. It means great control."

Grimm’s steps did not falter, but his attention shifted just enough to acknowledge her words. "From my understanding," he said, "mana consists of individual particles—distinct units that form a greater whole. Are you suggesting that she is replicating each of these particles individually, then distributing them across the structure?"

"Maybe not exactly like that," Puck replied, her brows furrowing slightly as she reconsidered. "I mean, that sounds too exact, even for someone like her. It’s probably more like she’s using a spell to achieve a similar effect without literally copying each particle one by one." She rubbed her chin lightly, her expression thoughtful. "More precise magic has never really been my thing anyway. I’ve always been better at... you know, blowing things up or overwhelming them. Offensive spells." There was no pride in the admission, just honesty. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

"I was under the impression that fairies possessed innate talents across multiple aspects of magic," Grimm said, his voice quiet for a moment as if recalling something, before continuing. "Though, I am reminded of your attempt with that jinx, which was, by all accounts, rather substandard."

"Ugh, don’t remind me of that," Puck groaned immediately, her expression shifting as she turned back around and resumed facing forward, her floating posture sharpening slightly. "It wasn’t that bad... okay, it was bad, but still—it’s not like it matters that much." She huffed softly. "I don’t even focus on magic like that. I just happen to be good at some of it. Not all of it."

"Then it raises the question," Grimm continued, his tone unchanged, "of how powerful you actually are, beyond your own estimation."

As he spoke, his path shifted subtly, leading them toward a set of spiraling stairs that curved downward. Their structure was smooth, guiding movement easily. His sabatons met each step as he began his descent.

"I mean, I’d say I’m pretty tough," Puck replied, a small smirk forming as she pointed at herself with a hint of regained confidence. "Stronger than I look, at least. I think I could hold my own against some of the Fairy Queen’s attendants if I really tried. Maybe not win outright, but I wouldn’t go down easily."

"Like that one—Cobweb?" Grimm asked, his voice carrying mild curiosity as he continued down the stairs.

"Yeah, like Cobweb," Puck said, though her expression shifted almost immediately, the smirk fading slightly. "But she’s probably the last fairy I’d ever want to fight."

"Is she that formidable?" Grimm questioned, his tone neutral, though his words carried more focus now. "Instinct alone provides limited insight. However, given her current position of authority, it would be reasonable to assume she possesses considerable power."

"It’s not just that," Puck replied, her voice softening as she drifted slightly lower, closer to his level. "Yeah, being one of the Fairy Queen’s attendants means you’re strong, no doubt about that. But Cobweb..." She paused, searching for the right words. "She was always different. Even before everything that’s happening now." Her gaze unfocused slightly, as though she were looking at something far beyond the stairwell. "Before that whole conversation in the tavern, I hadn’t actually spoken to her directly. But when you fly around Elfame long enough, you hear things. You pick up on how fairies talk about others."

Grimm’s head turned more fully toward her now, the movement slow. Whether it was genuine interest or simple acknowledgment was impossible to tell behind the helmet—but he was listening.

"Most fairies in Elfame were content," Puck continued, her voice steady. "They didn’t question much. They complained about small things, sure, but overall they just accepted things as they were. That was normal." She hesitated briefly. "But Cobweb kept coming up. Over and over again." Her expression sharpened. "A lot of them didn’t like her. Said she was difficult. That she challenged the Queen’s decisions, even when everyone else just went along with them. And that’s not something you just do in Elfame—not when the Queen’s word is practically absolute."

She let out a small breath.

"Someone who can stand against that, against everyone else thinking one way, and still not bend, I don’t think I’d ever want to be on the other side of that kind of person." Her eyes lowered slightly. "And now she’s the one overseeing Elfame, despite all of that, despite the way other fairies felt about her."

"Hm," Grimm responded quietly.

There was something unspoken in Puck’s words—something beneath the explanation, something she had not fully voiced. And Grimm recognized it, even if she had not yet decided whether she would.

"Being content does not truly equate to happiness," Grimm said suddenly, his voice cutting through the rhythm of their descent.

"Huh?" Puck blinked, the shift in topic catching her off guard as she turned toward him midair, her expression openly confused. "Wait—what do you mean by that? That just kind of came out of nowhere."

Grimm did not look at her. His gaze remained fixed forward as he continued down the stairs, each step slow. "Most individuals, regardless of the world they inhabit, wish for something more than what they possess," he began, his tone less idle. "Even those who believe themselves undeserving of it still carry that desire somewhere within them, buried or ignored as it may be."

He paused briefly, as if refining the thought.

"More accurately, what they truly seek is not happiness in its fleeting sense, but satisfaction—something with importance. The completion of a goal. The realization of effort. The act of experiencing something meaningful, something that affirms their existence." His voice remained steady, but there was a sharpness to his words. "Those moments are what people chase, whether they admit it or not."

Puck listened, her earlier confusion easing into something more focused as she drifted closer, her eyes narrowing slightly in thought.

"But very few actually reach for those moments," Grimm continued, "not because they are incapable—but because they are content."

Puck tilted her head slightly, her brows furrowing. "But wouldn’t being content mean you’re already satisfied?" she asked, her tone uncertain now, as though she was testing the idea rather than asserting it. "Like if you have enough, if you’re okay with where you are, isn’t that the same thing?"

"No," Grimm replied without hesitation, the answer immediate. "Contentment, in most cases, is not satisfaction—it is merely acceptance. It is the belief that what one currently has is ’enough,’ regardless of whether it truly fulfills them." His pace did not falter. "It is a state adopted by those who lack the will—or the ambition—to seek more."

Puck drifted a little closer still, her posture unconsciously leaning toward him as he spoke, as though drawn in despite herself.

"Cobweb," Grimm went on, his tone returning to a more observational one, "is simply someone who refuses to accept that state. She does not settle for mere contentment. She recognizes it for what it is—a stagnant compromise."

He descended another step, his voice got quieter, but no less clear.

"There is nothing inherently wrong with rejecting such a life. In fact, I would argue the opposite. To exist without striving, without seeking something beyond what is handed to you..." A small pause. "That is not living. That is enduring."

Puck’s gaze dropped slightly, her earlier lightness replaced with contemplation. The words settled deeper than she expected.

"I think she understood that," Grimm added, almost as an afterthought.

Puck remained silent for a moment, her thoughts turning inward. She knew—on some level—that being content did not always mean being happy. In Elfame, things had been different, or at least they had felt that way. But recently she had seen it more clearly. A city where everything functioned, where everyone smiled, where nothing seemed wrong on the surface, and despite that...

Her eyes flickered.

"Being merely content despite there being more to life..." Grimm trailed off as they reached the final step, his foot settling against the floor below. He did not finish the thought immediately. When he did, it was with a tone so dry it almost masked his true emotion. "It is bad comedy."

Puck exhaled softly, her gaze still lowered, the corners of her expression shifting just slightly.

"...Yeah," she admitted quietly.

There was no hesitation in her agreement.