Leonardo frowned deeply and yanked his caught wrist free.
"Do you think I can't even tell if there are people around or not?"
He rubbed his wrist, replying with clear displeasure.
"It's true it came out a little strong—but not that much. It only happened because I was startled when you grabbed me."
Hugo stared at him in silence, then shifted his gaze to the smoke rising from the distant peak. After a moment, he turned back to Leonardo and spoke, pointing behind him.
"It looked a bit too strong for that."
"..."
"I'm saying this just in case—but it's normal for your control to become unstable after wearing those cuffs for so long. If it ever feels like too much to handle, you need to report it to me. That way, I can step in and contain it."
At Hugo's words, Leonardo looked up at him with a slightly incredulous expression. Then, with a face that looked like he had plenty more to say but wouldn't, he opened his mouth—only to let out a short sigh instead.
"I understand what you're saying. But it’s nothing you need to worry about."
Leonardo jerked his chin toward the opposite peak.
"In the end, they all ran away, didn’t they?"
As he said, the monster cries had ceased. It seemed the creatures nearby had all fled due to the massive explosion earlier. But Hugo, looking down at the base camp, remarked,
"Yes. That’s fortunate—but it looks like everyone woke up because of it."
At that, Leonardo also glanced down. Quite a few people had exited their tents and were now watching from afar—some looking toward him, others at the mountain peak where the blast had struck.
Leonardo’s brow furrowed slightly. He knew full well how much being roused from sleep before dawn could affect a person's condition the next day—and how it would likely delay the procession’s pace.
Meeting the many eyes directed at him, Leonardo squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then opened them again.
"Ah—fine. I get it. It’s my fault."
He replied through gritted teeth, suppressing his emotions, and turned back toward the base camp. Hugo followed a step behind.
When Leonardo arrived, he walked straight into the tent without sparing a glance at the others still gathered and staring at him. Just as Hugo was about to follow, Meterion approached.
From the look on his face, it was clear nothing good was coming. Hugo honestly wanted to ignore him. But Meterion, clearly waiting for this moment, glanced at the smoking mountain and said,
"Was that Leonardo Blaine’s doing?"
Hugo paused briefly before answering.
"There were Dermocas nearby."
"If they show up a second time, he might blow up a whole volcano."
Meterion sneered with biting sarcasm.
"You said I couldn’t control him. Seems the same goes for you."
"..."
Hugo responded with tired eyes.
"There won’t be any problems. I’ll be going now."
Meterion stared him down, clearly intent on keeping watch, then returned to his tent. But even behind him, more members were glancing over, their expressions confused.
Suppressing a sigh, Hugo gave a calm order:
"There was a brief disturbance—but it's nothing to worry about. We're moving early, so go back and rest."
"Yes, understood."
At his command, the members quickly dispersed. As most of the personnel returned to their tents, Hugo lifted the tent flap and entered. His eyes naturally fell to the left bed.
Leonardo lay there with his back turned to the entrance.
Hugo silently observed him.
To someone like Leonardo—a powerful mage with enough mastery to perfectly suppress his own mana—unstable control must have been something he hated to admit. He surely took immense pride in his magic.
But Hugo hoped he wouldn’t let that pride cause problems. Not only would he have to take responsibility for any incidents, but it would also worsen the other members’ already skewed perceptions of Leonardo.
He considered continuing the conversation, but the mood surrounding the younger man suggested it was better to leave him be for now. Blinking slowly, Hugo sat down on his field bed without saying another word.
Then, softly, he said to Leonardo’s back:
"Sleep well, Leonardo."
The morning sun had risen, but a layer of cloud left the sky a dull gray. Sitting on a makeshift chair in front of the dead bonfire, Leonardo blankly stared up at the opaque sky, then slowly shifted his eyes to Flynn’s approaching shadow.
"What are you staring at like that?"
Flynn glanced at the sky where Leonardo’s gaze had lingered and asked. Leonardo looked up again, as if it didn’t matter, and replied,
"Nothing."
Flynn had been wondering what was going on—especially given the loud explosion in the early morning and Leonardo’s strangely subdued demeanor. But then he noticed the untouched breakfast in his own hand.
"You cleared everything up yesterday. But today, you’ve barely eaten?"
At Flynn’s question, Leonardo looked blankly down at the meal.
"I don’t have much of an appetite."
"Are you done?"
"Yeah."
Flynn had plenty he wanted to ask—since the Commander hadn’t told him anything—but seeing Leonardo’s mood, he chose not to press. He quietly collected the utensils.
Leonardo watched Flynn’s retreating back, then slowly crossed his legs and shifted his gaze toward Hugo.
There, the same group that had gathered for yesterday’s meeting—commanders of the expedition and liaison officers from the Southern Branch—were now deep in a pre-departure discussion. Urgent matters, evidently.
The reason Leonardo was sitting alone here today... was because Hugo hadn’t called him.
He wasn’t officially part of the Council's command structure, so it made sense not to be summoned. But yesterday, he had been included. Today, he wasn’t. And that left him with an odd, hollow feeling.
A feeling like something had been taken away.
As Leonardo watched them, stewing in uneasy thoughts, Hugo—who had been listening to another’s report—suddenly turned and met his gaze.
The drooping golden eyes locked with his. Hugo slightly raised one brow. Startled, Leonardo quickly turned his head, pretending nonchalance.
He then busied himself watching the others as they packed their tents. After a while, he glanced back toward Hugo. This time, Hugo was facing forward, back in discussion with the others, as if the moment had never happened.
Leonardo stared vacantly, then lowered his gaze to his hand and repeatedly clenched and unclenched it.
The mana that surged out yesterday had indeed been strong—partly because Hugo had grabbed his wrist. But also, it had been poorly controlled.
That was his own mistake—something he himself had been worried about. He should’ve been grateful to Agrizendro for pointing it out.
But what upset him wasn’t that he didn’t want to admit it—it was Hugo’s insistence on taking responsibility for it.
Saying he’d “control” Leonardo’s unstable mana made him feel like a helpless child—or a burden needing to be carried. And he didn’t like that.
Still... he couldn’t entirely blame Hugo. Probably no one else here would see him any differently.
Reaching that conclusion, Leonardo lifted his head again and looked toward the distant group in conference.
Yesterday, he’d stood there as if it were natural. He’d voiced his thoughts and shared his insight. But now he realized—it had all ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) been because Agrizendro had called him forward, stood him beside him, asked for his opinion.
And now that he wasn’t there, the absence was palpable.
He silently watched the Commander's profile—and found it unfamiliar.
The reason it felt strange was because, whenever he looked at Hugo, the man always met his gaze. He rarely got to see him in profile.
In that moment, memories flashed through Leonardo’s mind—Hugo’s unusual leniency since the capital, how he’d gathered everyone and let Leonardo brief them before the operation, the inexplicable removal of his restraints, the decision to entrust him with the rear guard...
And the final memory was:
“I will give you a chance.”
What he’d thought was mere contradictory pity...
“Make up for it. In this expedition.”
He realized now—it was a chance Hugo had genuinely given him, in his own way.
