"Man, hanging out with kids really is the best! I feel like I’m recharging just being around them!"
"What... what are you made of? I am... exhausted...!"
A few hours later, Yugo and Marcos were taking a breather in the facility's backyard.
It was nap time for the children. Melt and Fee had stayed behind to watch over them while they slept. Since the two men were tasked with hauling the supplies that were due to arrive shortly, they had stepped out early to rest.
In contrast to the energetic Yugo, Marcos looked utterly spent, though his expression held a certain newfound clarity. Yugo glanced at him from the corner of his eye and offered a small smile, striking up a conversation to pass the time.
"Doesn't feel half bad, does it? Being surrounded by all those smiling faces?"
"Hmph. I have no intention of ever playing nursemaid again! Though... I suppose demonstrating the grandeur of the House of Borg to those children wasn't entirely beneath me."
Yugo resisted the urge to point out that Marcos had actually seemed to enjoy himself. Instead, he let out a boisterous, cheerful laugh. When Marcos caught Yugo’s teasing gaze, he made a sour face and drained his water bottle to avoid further scrutiny.
After taking a long drink of his own, Yugo spoke up again.
"Look, this might sound a bit weird, but I think I’m actually starting to like you. Our first meeting was a disaster, and I’m still pretty mad about what you did to Fee, mind you."
"Wh—what are you saying all of a sudden? Are you mocking me?"
"No, I mean it. Think back to when you picked a fight with me. You told me straight up that you thought you could win because I'd lost Galandil, right? Looking back, that was incredibly honest of you. The creeps I dealt with the other day used Melt as bait to force a duel, and then they spent their time spreading rumors once they lost. A real headache, honestly. Compared to them, you didn't pull any of that garbage. Your Affection Level’s definitely gone up in my book."
"That is the most unwelcome rise in popularity I can imagine. Besides, being liked by the likes of you brings me no joy."
"Don't be like that. Nothing good comes from being so wound up all the time. A string pulled too tight is the first one to snap. You need more leeway—a bit of playfulness. If you relax a little, I bet your best qualities will finally start to shine through."
"I'm just repeating something I heard once, though," Yugo added with a wink.
Marcos let out a soft grunt and looked away. A string pulled too tight... He couldn't deny the truth in those words.
Now that I think about it, he's right. I have my pride, but I should have known my own limits. Ever since I lost that duel to him, I feel as though I’ve been steadily losing sight of myself...
He vividly remembered the sensation of his world crumbling beneath his feet the day he was effortlessly defeated by Yugo—a man who didn't even have his Galandil.
He hadn't wanted to admit how weak he truly was. He hadn't wanted to face the pathetic reality of his total defeat in a battle he was certain he would win. He had allowed his rivalry toward Yugo to consume him, and as a result, he had done nothing but pile one shameful display upon another.
The incident in the tunnel was no different. His treatment of the young girl, his performance against the Arachlaws—he had let his hunger for glory cloud his judgment, resulting in a clumsy, amateurish showing.
As a Magic Knight meant to protect the people, and as a son of the proud House of Borg, his behavior had been utterly unbecoming. He could see that clearly now.
"Leeway and playfulness, huh..."
"Exactly! Playfulness is key! Nobody is drawn to someone who’s constantly on edge. Hero's Condition #8: Becoming Someone Loved by Children! It's a big one, so make sure you take notes!"
"Good grief. If I am a string pulled too tight, then you are a string that is completely slack."
A faint, natural smile played across Marcos’s lips as he listened to Yugo’s relentlessly easygoing chatter.
Yugo was pleased to see that Marcos had finally faced his own shortcomings and regained a bit of his composure. Marcos, for his part, felt a wordless sense of gratitude toward Yugo for giving him the chance to reflect.
Just then, a commotion broke out near the Main Gate.
"Huh? What’s that? Something going on?"
"It might be the delivery. Come, let’s go see."
Hearing the sound of voices, the two cut their break short and headed toward the gate, assuming the supplies had arrived earlier than expected.
However, the person waiting there was no deliveryman. It was a man in tattered, filthy clothes—someone who looked suspicious no matter how you sliced it.