Dawn at the Elder Millie Peninsula crater was, as always, quiet. Perhaps due to the high altitude, not even monsters climbed up this far. Yet within that stillness, Hugo awoke, sensing the hot, humid air.
Like Leonardo, Hugo hadn’t been sleeping well since arriving. He had moved across a vast distance in a short span—first from the Frost Territory to the capital, then again to the southernmost point of the peninsula. The time difference had thrown off his rhythm.
Half-lidded eyes blinked at the dim lantern swaying in the center of the tent. After a moment of silence, he sat up. The air here was usually cold, so the sudden warmth in the atmosphere felt jarringly out of place.
Hugo washed his face, pushed his hair back, and opened the tent flap. As soon as he stepped outside, he noticed a night watchman dozing off nearby.
Clicking his tongue, Hugo walked over and smacked the man lightly on the back. The startled soldier jolted awake and, upon recognizing Hugo’s face, sprang to his feet in alarm.
“Commander, I—I apologize!”
Hugo didn’t reply. He simply stared at the man with a cold gaze that said, Do better. Then he approached the dying bonfire in the center, tossed in a few pieces of firewood from the side, and coaxed the embers back to life. By force of habit, his eyes drifted toward Leonardo’s tent, pitched farther from the others.
The flap was slightly ajar.
“...”
A sharp unease prickled through him. Hugo immediately walked over and ducked inside.
Empty.
The sleeping bag and mage robe top were left in a mess. Hugo’s brow furrowed, and he turned to the night watchman.
“Where’s Leonardo?”
“Pardon?”
The confusion on the man’s face confirmed he hadn’t noticed anything. He rushed to check the tent for himself and turned pale when he saw it empty.
“I—I’ll go search for him right away!”
But Hugo fixed him with a hard stare.
“You new?”
“Ah... yes, sir.”
His face was unfamiliar. Likely a fresh recruit to the 1st Battalion, sent straight to the Elder Millie Peninsula. Hugo, sensing the soldier's unease, softened slightly.
“I’ll search. You stay here and keep watch properly. And don’t fall asleep again.”
“...Understood.”
Leaving the flustered man behind, Hugo entered the cave where the strange heat was emanating. He could faintly sense Leonardo’s mana inside. It didn’t feel like he’d gone far. He was nearby.
From the moment he’d dragged Leonardo out of hiding in the Frost Territory to now, Hugo’s awareness had been trained so tightly on him that he could track him even in his sleep.
The deeper he went, the thicker the heat and humidity became. Steam hung in the air, and Leonardo’s presence grew stronger.
Carefully quieting his steps, Hugo descended into a wider space. The path opened into a vast, dome-like cavern.
There, a large pool of water had collected, likely from the overflowing lake outside.
But while the lake water had been ice-cold, this pool shimmered with heat, steam rising steadily from its surface. The source of the warmth was clear—it was his doing.
In the stillness of the cave, where only the sound of dripping water echoed, Hugo walked deeper, eyes searching for any sign of Leonardo.
Just as he was about to conjure a light orb due to the thick darkness, he spotted clothes laid out on a boulder nearby. Even in the dim light, he could tell—Leonardo’s entire outfit.
His chest tightened with unease as he stepped behind the rock. There, partially submerged in the steaming pool, was the golden head of hair he’d been looking for. Leonardo sat with his back to him, resting against the shore, his upper body half-drenched in the hot water.
Hugo halted.
Leonardo lifted his arms, sweeping water over his face and hair. The splash echoed in the misty silence. Steam billowed up between them, blurring Hugo’s vision.
The sight—his solitary form amid the haze—felt ethereal, almost too intimate to be witnessed.
After a long pause, Hugo finally spoke.
“I told you not to act alone.”
His low voice slid through the steamy air, brushing Leonardo’s skin. The man, who had been rubbing his neck with a wet hand, flinched slightly, clearly not expecting anyone.
But soon enough, Leonardo leaned back casually, unaffected. One arm rested on the shore as he turned his head halfway.
“I wanted to wash up. Was I supposed to wake you and ask you to stand guard?”
His nonchalant reply made Hugo’s brow twitch. He conjured a soft orb of light and approached. Leonardo turned his head again, resuming his pose with his back exposed, as if he had no intention of leaving just because he'd been caught.
Standing behind him, Hugo looked down at the tranquil figure in the steaming water, which reached just below his lower back. His eyes trailed the droplets sliding from Leonardo’s damp hair, tracing the lines of his neck, shoulders, and back.
His pale skin bore small scars here and there—remnants of battles and dangerous missions.
Hugo's gaze lingered on them, then slowly followed the contours of his spine and shoulders.
Not bad...
Clothed, Leonardo had seemed well-proportioned, maybe a bit slim for a man. But now, seeing him bare, it was clear his muscles weren’t lacking in volume—they were lean, dense, and honed for survival.
Not gym-forged muscle, but the kind carved in by hardship and war.
What caught Hugo’s attention most was a scar on Leonardo’s left shoulder—a large, discolored mark that looked like it once spanned the width of Hugo’s own hand.
Though faded, even Hugo, well-versed in wounds, could tell it had been a massive, agonizing injury. A burn, most likely. Fire mages weren’t immune to sudden attacks, and this scar proved it.
Suddenly, Hugo remembered the moment during their clash in the capital when Leonardo had taken a direct hit on his left shoulder—an ice strike from Andreas. Hugo had been puzzled at the time, thinking Leonardo could’ve dodged it.
Looking back now, it made sense.
That old wound must’ve dulled his reflexes and sensitivity in that area. He also recalled Leonardo subconsciously rubbing only his left arm after being unshackled on the Council terrace.
So that’s why he brushed my hand off.
He hadn’t pulled away before contact—but after. The delay must’ve been from the dull sensation. It also explained why he was more guarded about that spot.
As Hugo pieced it together, Leonardo tilted his head back and looked upward.
That motion exposed his face in profile—his lower body hidden beneath the dark water, his damp hair and lashes clinging to translucent skin, features delicate and striking. Even the faint frown between his brows looked artful.
“How long are you planning to stand there?”
At his question, Hugo replied bluntly,
“Until you °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° come out.”
Leonardo arched a brow, then smirked.
“I didn’t know the Commander was into voyeurism.”
Hugo’s expression tightened, but he didn’t answer. It wasn’t worth dignifying.
Leonardo, however, seemed pleased by his reaction. He smiled faintly and asked in a calm, provocative tone,
“Why?”
Hugo said nothing. He just looked down at him.
The way wet hair clung to Leonardo’s skin unsettled him. His red lips glistened under the warm light.
Noticing where Hugo’s gaze landed, Leonardo smiled knowingly. Then, with a voice as soft and slow as the steam around them, he murmured,
“Want to come in?”
