Water dripped from Leonardo’s wet hair, trailing down his cheeks and neck. A droplet that had collected at the tip of his sharp chin finally fell, landing on the table he was staring at with sunken eyes.
Leonardo blankly looked down at the gray prison uniform laid out before him. Water spots soaked into the fabric, leaving dark stains scattered across it. Beside it sat a lunchbox—not quite the slop served in prison, but still wholly unappetizing.
When he picked up the uniform, the neatly folded one-piece garment unraveled beneath his hands. It was a jumpsuit with no separation between top and bottom, and to put it politely, that was all it was—an unmistakable prison uniform.
"These bastards, seriously..."
His gaze remained calm, but his low voice wasn't.
He inwardly cursed the Council for offering such an insult under the guise of clothes. But lacking even the energy to complain further, he simply shoved his arms and legs into the uniform with a resigned expression. Once zipped up to the collar, the outfit, though nothing more than a prison jumpsuit, somehow managed to look tailored and neat on him.
Leonardo slipped his left hand into the pocket and rested the other atop the lunchbox on the table. Slowly, as his mana activated, the cold metal began to heat up.
At the same time, the moisture on his face evaporated, and warm steam rose from his wet hair. But with the mana-suppressing cuffs still locked around his wrists, it didn’t dry as rapidly as before.
As the lunchbox gradually warmed and steam curled from its edges, Leonardo pulled his hand back and lifted the lid. Amid the dried-out, revolting array of food, the sausage looked the least offensive.
Feeling like his stomach was glued to his spine, he dragged a nearby wooden chair forward and dropped into it. Then, he stabbed the sausage with a fork and took a big bite.
He hadn't expected juice to spill out, but even that hope was dashed. Leonardo's face slowly hardened as the rubbery, rank taste filled his mouth.
Unable to bear it, he spat the half-chewed mess into the trash can beside him. Then, without hesitation, he shut the lunchbox and tossed it in after.
Appetite gone, Leonardo twisted open a bottle of water and gulped it down. After that, he trudged over to the faded cloth sofa in the back.
He threw himself down onto it and leaned his head back. His eyelids drooped automatically, eyes half-closing. After days of near-starvation, his body had no strength left, and the ticking of the second hand on the clock rang painfully loud, making the quiet feel even heavier.
This place was technically a temporary detention center under the Council’s management. And objectively, it was a significant step up from a prison. The interior was arranged like an ordinary room—private bathroom, table, sofa, bed, and so on.
Still, it was a detention facility. The windows were barred with iron, the furniture aged and unclean, and the walls and doors were built from reinforced metal—no possibility of simply walking out. While clearly better than a prison, the sense of confinement remained unchanged.
And with nothing to do, there was nothing to do but pass the time like this.
Leonardo stared vacantly at the sliver of light coming through the shut window. After a while, his stomach let out a grumble, demanding food. At the sound, he rubbed his flat stomach and then raised a hand toward the ceiling, quietly inspecting it.
Fire-aligned mages tend to have body temperatures slightly higher than average. Not enough to feel hot to the touch, but noticeably warmer. And that 1–2 degree difference played a crucial role internally, burning through calories at several times the rate of a normal person—even at rest.
Because of that, even a few days without food made visible changes. Leonardo's already sharp jawline had grown more defined, and the fingers held up before him had thinned compared to just days ago, the bones and joints standing out starkly.
As the pounding in his skull worsened, Leonardo felt he might genuinely starve at this rate. He glanced at the lunchbox he'd tossed earlier into the trash but quickly wrinkled his nose—he didn’t want that anywhere near his mouth again.
‘Back on missions, I’d eat anything, no matter how awful. I’ve really gotten picky, haven’t I?’
He didn’t mean to act spoiled—but still, after agreeing to help Agrizendro with the peninsula subjugation, he didn’t see why he had to keep being treated like some criminal forced to choke down garbage.
Thinking along those lines, it felt even more ridiculous that he was still obediently staying here just because he’d been told to “behave.”
‘He’s not even my superior. Why the hell am I listening to the guy who caught me?’
After a brief moment of thought, Leonardo suddenly rose from the sofa and fished the discarded lunchbox from the trash. Mentally bracing himself, he opened the lid carefully, only to find the contents jumbled and unrecognizable, the mess even more repulsive than before.
Still holding it, he walked up to the thick iron door and knocked on it hard a couple of times. Then he stood there and waited.
No response. Even after quite a while.
He raised his fist again, about to pound louder this time—when the small slit at eye level, just wide enough to show someone's eyes, slid open with a metallic rasp. A guard’s bored eyes peered through.
"What is it?"
The indifferent tone made Leonardo’s brow twitch, but he kept himself in check and simply got to the point.
"Bring me something edible. I’m hungry—and I’m pissed."
The guard blinked, clearly thrown, then responded as if he’d heard the most ridiculous thing in the world.
"There’s food on the table. What, you think the Council’s here to take complaints about your side dishes?"
"...Yeah, yeah, I got that. Just give me something fresh. Not dried-up, rancid garbage. If I’m too weak to fight, that’s your loss, isn’t it?"
His logic wasn’t completely without merit, but the guard clearly had no interest in listening. He began sliding the small window shut again. Leonardo, quick to react, shoved his hand into the gap, blocking it.
"Wh-what the hell—?"
Startled, the guard tried to force his hand out. Leonardo used that brief confusion to fling the half-eaten lunchbox through the opening.
"Agh!"
The slop hit its mark, landing squarely on the guard’s face before splattering to the ground. Screaming, the man stumbled back. Leonardo calmly wiped a drop from his cheek with the back of his hand and let out a dry laugh.
"See? You wouldn’t eat that either."
"Blaine! What the hell are you doing?!"
A second guard’s voice shouted from outside, and another figure appeared at the window. Leonardo casually dusted off his hands and delivered a firm kick to the door with a loud bang.
As the guard flinched, he coldly added,
"Call your Commander. If he doesn’t show up, I’m busting out. You’ve got five minutes."
****
"Why in the world did you say something like ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) that?"
Hugo had come to Abraham’s office and was now glaring at the man across from him, who was sipping tea on the opposite sofa. That question was the most restrained version of what he actually wanted to say.
Abraham took a sip of the steaming tea and smiled in satisfaction, clearly pleased with the aroma. The tiny teacup looked especially small in his large, rough hands.
After setting it down, he looked up and replied to Hugo’s blunt demand.
"Didn’t you want to let that guy out too?"
"Did it have to be this way?"
"To get a firm commitment out of him for now, using the peninsula as bait was the best card to play."
"You didn’t just use the peninsula. You used me too, didn’t you?"
Though Hugo kept his tone cool, it was obvious he felt wronged by Abraham’s one-sided decision. But the old man seemed to take it as a sign of growth—just a former student grumbling at his teacher.
"This tea is excellent."
As always, Abraham changed the subject the moment things became uncomfortable. Hugo could feel his blood pressure rise just speaking with him. The man who’d once been a terrifying instructor now just seemed like a sly old fox, impossible to read.
When Hugo stayed silent, Abraham, still savoring the aroma of the tea, smoothly shifted topics again.
"So, how was it—meeting him?"
Even without a name, Hugo immediately knew he was referring to Leonardo.
Whenever Hugo had reported that he was going to chase Leonardo, Abraham had encouraged him to go himself, seemingly trying to foster Leonardo as a potential asset for the Council.
But Abraham’s true motives were less clear. Now that Leonardo was finally caught and all the business with the Capital was behind them, Abraham had suddenly brought up the peninsula—just to send him right back out again.
Hugo still didn’t fully understand Abraham’s intentions. He'd pushed so hard to catch Leonardo, and now he wanted to let him go. But after everything that had happened lately, Hugo’s own feelings had shifted, too. And the truth was—he also wanted to let Leonardo go.
He sat there for a moment, weighing how to express everything that had changed inside him because of that man.
Just then, a soft knock came from the door, followed by the voice of an adjutant.
"Commander-in-Chief, Adjutant Landon is here. He says it’s urgent."
Adjutant Landon—that would be Gabe Landon, Hugo’s right hand. Hugo turned toward the door, and Abraham followed his gaze.
"Let him in."
The door opened promptly, revealing Abraham’s own adjutant and Gabe standing just outside. The former gave a short bow and stepped away, while Gabe entered, looking uneasy, and saluted.
"Loyalty. I came to report something urgent."
"What is it?"
Hugo’s tone was curt. Gabe hesitated, clearly flustered, then spoke.
"Uh... Commander, the guard stationed outside Leonardo Blaine’s cell came running to your office..."
The mere mention of Leonardo Blaine gave Hugo a bad feeling. His gut told him this wasn’t going to be pleasant. Meanwhile, Abraham listened with amusement, still sipping his tea.
Seeing Hugo’s face harden, Gabe stumbled through the rest of the message.
"Leonardo Blaine said... that if the Commander doesn’t come within five minutes... he’ll escape. He told me to relay that."
The more he spoke, the more Gabe lowered his head, feeling terrible about delivering such outrageous words. And indeed, the Commander’s expression had grown glacial. Gabe wished he could melt into the floor.
Abraham, on the other hand, burst into laughter.
It was so far beyond his expectations, he couldn’t help it. Gabe, now doubly flustered, looked back and forth between the two men. Hugo, in a voice colder than ice, addressed the old man beside him.
"You asked me what it was like meeting him? As you just heard—he’s arrogant beyond belief and acts however he wants."
With that, Hugo rose from his seat, leaving a frigid air behind him as he stormed out. Gabe looked unsure whether to follow.
Abraham, still chuckling, gave him a meaningful glance.
"Go on."
Gabe bowed politely and hurried after his Commander.
