Banteon’s voice lost its strength just as he was about to shout. What kind of absurd nonsense was this now? Even for Banteon, he wasn’t cold-hearted enough to report a long-time friend just because they were overwhelmed by emotion.
“It’s clearly forced Guide contact, and worse, guiding between blood relatives, which is illegal. So it won’t just end with solitary confinement.”
“You know better than that. Let go of this.”
“Then why are you acting like you don’t know? You already do. You know I like you.”
“……!”
He flinched and tried to pull his hand away, but it wouldn’t come off easily. Tearot brought his other hand around, drawing even closer. When Banteon glared, frowning, Tearot grinned and tugged at the other glove. The fine glove slipped off his skin in a humiliating fashion, falling beside the one already removed.
“Since I’m getting hauled away anyway, can’t I just touch you a little more?”
Banteon smacked away the approaching hand. The slap echoed sharply, but strangely, his own hand hurt more. His lips trembled from the shock of that confession.
“I don’t care about that. If you want to ruin your life, do it alone. You know that guiding between blood relatives is punishable on both sides, right? I’m not going to prison with you.”
“Ah, right. That’s true.”
Only then did Tearot release his grip and step back, raising both hands. He brushed his fingers over the gloves crumpled on the floor and slipped on a spare pair he had brought just in case. As the soft fabric enclosed his fingers, the memory of that chilling contact flashed back and made him shudder.
Tearot stood in place, murmuring quietly. Prison… He half-mumbled the unpleasant word and then smiled faintly.
“There’s no way someone as precious as Banteon could be allowed to suffer in a place like that. Of course.”
“If you’ve come to your senses, just leave and cool off your scrambled brain. I’ll pretend this never happened.”
“Will that be enough? I figured you’d at least slap me.”
“Then don’t ever come to my study again.”
“Sure. Sure.”
Tearot answered half-heartedly and walked away. He acted like it was nothing, like leaving would be enough to end it, but this was not something that could be dismissed lightly. Banteon had already suspected that Tearot’s recent behavior was off, but only after this sudden incident did he fully realize the gravity of it.
As Tearot walked away, Banteon called after him.
“Let’s make sure we don’t run into each other outside either, Tearot.”
Tearot’s shoulders stiffened at the cold words. The usual sly expression cracked, falling into a blank mask. If he was going to act like this, he should have prepared for it.
“Really?”
“You thought you could do something like that and shamelessly look me in the face?”
“……Right. That would be just like you.”
Tearot muttered bitterly and turned his head again. He had poured his heart into that confession, and what he got in return was a farewell—let’s never meet again. Tearot mumbled that Banteon was heartless and turned his body. No excuses. No explanations. Just an indifferent back growing smaller with every step, pathetic beyond words.
He trudged to the door and slowly gripped the handle. That hunk of metal he must’ve turned dozens of times without a second thought now felt unfamiliar in his grasp as he hesitated. Eventually, he opened the door slowly.
“Take care.”
A farewell drenched in regret. The sight drew a sigh. Seeing him so dejected, Banteon instinctively swallowed the words of comfort that were about to leave his lips.
Just overlooking what Tearot had done was already more than generous. That should be enough. No matter how secret the act may be, a crime is still a crime—even if Banteon said nothing, no one else would ever know.
Just before the door fully closed, Tearot’s shadow flickered. Through the narrowing gap, his silhouette disappeared into blackness. Banteon whispered in a voice so faint it wouldn’t be audible even to someone standing right beside him.
“If you truly sort out your feelings, then come find me.”
Tearot’s shadow paused for a moment at those words before vanishing completely as the door clicked shut. Left alone in the now-empty study, Banteon finally relaxed and began preparing tea. His fingers trembled as he poured the hot water from the kettle.
He was more exhausted than before he had even come to the study. If a guiding request from Delroz came in now, would he have to refuse? The thought alone made his body feel unbearably heavy with fatigue.
The voice of his younger sibling echoed in his ears, always accusing him of being oblivious. But no matter how dull he might be, there’s no way he couldn’t tell what Tearot’s condition was just now.
“This is insane.”
He didn’t even feel like lighting a cigar. He rested his cheek on the cold desk and closed his eyes. The scent of the freshly brewed tea rose to his face. He pressed down the memories that flared behind his eyelids.
He knew that Tearot bore an excessive sense of responsibility toward him. What Banteon once believed to be friendship had been slowly morphing into something else. Still, he told himself it wasn’t that. That he was just overthinking. He looked away.
In the end, he knew it would rot and burst, but there was nothing he could do.
Pretending not to know, staying by his side with the same face as always—that was the best Banteon could do.
Eventually, the balloon bloated with time and emotion burst. There’s no way to gather the air that’s already escaped. All that can be done is to wait, hope it blends into the surroundings until it becomes so faint its presence is forgotten. Blended, neutralized, oxidized, and carried away. Until Tearot is able to put away his impossible feelings.
In the meantime, there was nothing Banteon could do.
***
He hadn’t been able to sleep deeply for days, and it weighed on his body. Tearot’s impulsive actions had left a lasting impact. The one who had served as the contact point with the family, who regularly dropped in with bits of information, was now gone—and with him, many small conveniences.
It wasn’t unbearable, but everything now seemed to require just a little more effort. Tearot used to relay important notices without Banteon needing to check the terminal. With him gone, Banteon had to review it regularly himself—just another tedious chore added to the list.
Whenever minor inconveniences cropped up in his daily routine, Banteon found himself thinking about Tearot again.
He pressed his stiff temples and closed his eyes slowly.
The furniture in the guiding room wasn’t particularly comfortable. Since the space was shared with Espers, functionality and durability were prioritized over comfort. Metal chairs that required both hands to move and rigid tables. The only piece of furniture with any softness was the emergency-use bed prepared in the adjoining room—but he had no intention of using it. So instead, he leaned his back against the cold chair and rested his body.
“…You look tired.”
To hear that from the person who should be the most exhausted in the entire center—Banteon shook off the haze clouding his mind.
In front of him stood Delroz, who had finally returned after days of fieldwork. Tearot’s words resurfaced again. Didn’t Banteon hate Delroz now? Wasn’t he starting to like him, just a little?
His gaze narrowed as he looked at Delroz. Even after hearing that, there was no warm feeling to be found. But just as Banteon knew Tearot, Tearot knew Banteon.
‘He thought I looked like I was interested in Delroz.’
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Just… feels like it’s been a while.”
Even with the indifferent greeting, Delroz turned his head slightly away. If even that seemed like he was embarrassed, then maybe Tearot had been right.
It had been a while since they’d last met, and Delroz’s energy was wavering unstably. Not surprising, given the exertion and time spent on recovery. Contrary to expectations that he would come straight in for a guiding session after the incident was handled, Delroz had spent a full week traveling the capital, focusing solely on restoration efforts. From an efficiency standpoint, it would’ve made more sense to stop by even briefly for guiding.
If his visible instability was any indication, he was likely suffering from severe headaches and nausea. Yet, Delroz had stayed on-site, participating in recovery efforts until the second team arrived. It was unexpected.
“Here.”
Banteon reached out his hand, silently gesturing for Delroz to take it, but Delroz only frowned in dissatisfaction and looked down without moving. In his current state, Banteon’s hand should’ve seemed sweeter than candy, but he didn’t look the least bit tempted to take it.
“You’re not going to accept the guiding?”
“You don’t look well.”
“It’s nothing serious. I’ll be fine after we’re done guiding.”
“Hmm…”
Banteon waved his hand again, but Delroz’s arms remained tightly crossed. As the extended arm started to ache, he gave up and lowered it. If the recipient didn’t want it, there was no reason for Banteon to push a guiding session.
With nothing to look at—not even a painting—the two grown men just sat facing each other in the guiding room, and there wasn’t much else to do. Sitting in silence was fine too, but thirty minutes was a long stretch of time.
“How’s the capital holding up?”
“The urgent stuff is settled. Now it’s just slow rebuilding.”
While subjugating monsters and working on the capital’s recovery, Delroz hadn’t left his post even once. It surprised many, especially considering he had never seemed like the type to be driven by duty.
For the sake of recovery, massive walls and chunks of stone had to be moved. He lifted collapsed roofs, rescued trapped people, and even raised the fallen statue of the Founding King from the ground.
In every task, Delroz’s strength defied physical limits. People joked that at this rate, a statue of Delroz might be erected beside the Founding King’s by next year.
If that did happen, there would probably be a line of people eager to donate. Thanks to Delroz’s involvement, the recovery process was progressing at an unprecedented pace—especially in the eastern district where Esrante’s estate was located, which boasted the highest recovery rate of all. At this point, he could probably afford to fund the statue himself.
“You’ve got more of a volunteer spirit than I thought. I never expected you to pitch in for the restoration effort.”
“……I’m not as indifferent as you.”
“Me?”
A question mark popped above Banteon’s head. After the monster attack incident, he’d been sitting in one of the safest locations, resting.
