Thanks to Leonardo’s storm-like rampage, the newly emerged monsters were wiped out cleanly from their nests. Hugo dispatched two members as messengers to summon the expedition team and investigators from other battalions so they could collect the bodies and examine the creatures in detail.
During that time, messengers from the Southern Branch and various battalions came and went in a steady flow, bringing reports to Hugo. Most of what they relayed concerned discoveries of ancient ruins—apparently, more remnants were being found than expected, enough to become the main topic of discussion.
Standing a short distance away from Hugo, Leonardo also overheard the reports.
Ruins?
This was his first official entry into the Elder Millie Peninsula, so he had never laid eyes on any such structures before. In fact, when the Southern Branch messengers had first brought news of the ruins, Leonardo hadn’t been present—so all of this was new to him.
The messenger then mentioned the unidentified cave Hugo had glimpsed after destroying the mutant monster. Similar heaps of stored food had apparently been found in several other locations.
Leonardo listened in silence, arms folded across his chest. But when Hugo’s gaze turned toward him, their eyes met. Leonardo didn’t avert his stare, simply uncrossed his arms, and walked away without a word.
Hugo watched him leave, then turned back to the messenger.
Flynn had half-expected Leonardo to go on a hunger strike after that incident.
But contrary to his worries, Leonardo was eating better than usual. When they stayed overnight at the base camp and morning came, he was awake before anyone else, packing his things without needing to be roused.
In battle, he stepped forward ahead of all others, tearing through large groups of monsters with brutal efficiency. He no longer wandered off in silence or distanced himself from the column without explanation; if he left, he stated his reason, and when he returned, he gave a brief report.
On the surface, it seemed as if he was now the perfect model of a subjugation team member—unlike before, when no one could predict where he might vanish to. But to Flynn, it felt like standing atop thin ice.
Because he followed the rules too perfectly, the chances to speak with him had all but vanished. No—more accurately, Leonardo himself seemed to have erased them.
The change in his demeanor since that incident was stark. It was like watching a flawless soldier-for-hire: competent, disciplined, and utterly detached. There was an invisible wall between him and the rest, as though he saw no reason to be involved with them beyond their shared goal of monster eradication.
It was as if he had locked the door to his heart.
And naturally, what Flynn sensed, Hugo had noticed as well.
That night, camped deep in the tropical rainforest and away from the volcanic zone, a light drizzle began to fall. Most of the team had already finished their preparations for sleep and disappeared into their tents when a figure approached Hugo, who sat on a makeshift chair studying a map.
Hugo knew who it was without looking—but still, his head lifted.
Leonardo stood before him, face blank.
“I’m going for a smoke.”
Before, he would have tossed the words over his shoulder and gone without waiting. Now, he formally stated his intentions every time he stepped out. His tone was more a flat notification than a request, but he never moved until Hugo responded, making it closer to seeking permission.
Hugo gave a short nod.
“Go ahead.”
At the approval, Leonardo turned and walked out without delay—almost as if he couldn’t stand to linger near him a moment longer.
Hugo watched his back for a moment before returning to the map. Since that confrontation, he had stopped following Leonardo whenever he went off alone. He didn’t want to feed the notion—already present—that Hugo didn’t trust him.
You said you would try to trust me.
That faintly trembling voice, paired with the image of his face in that moment, surfaced in Hugo’s mind more often than he liked. He had thought Leonardo wouldn’t care about such words, but their weight had lingered nonetheless.
After tracing the next day’s possible route, Hugo folded the map and rubbed at his brow with a tired sigh.
“Somehow, the better he behaves, the more uneasy I feel.”
Hugo had imagined there would be more outbursts after that day—more attempts to push his limits, to provoke him. But Leonardo, infuriatingly, had gone the opposite way.
Now, he followed every rule to the letter, never skipped a meal in some petty act of rebellion, never refused cooperation in battle.
When spoken to, he would reply—coldly, briefly, but without ignoring the speaker. Yet that ice-edged gaze, which seemed to silently demand they cut the exchange short, made it hard to continue beyond two or three sentences.
Yes—he was actively preventing any real conversation.
Hugo had never thought he would use the word cold to describe another person. Perhaps it was because he’d seen him aflame before—literally and figuratively—that this version felt even colder. His voice. His eyes.
The subjugation was proceeding smoothly, but no one found the atmosphere pleasant. Leonardo gave the impression of someone eager to finish the mission and leave the peninsula behind as soon as possible.
Hugo did not regret testing him that day; it had been necessary. He could have simply voiced his distrust about Leonardo’s control and issued restrictive orders—but that would have gone over no better.
Still, looking at him now, it felt as though he’d bricked himself in, enduring everything alone, and the thought left Hugo uncomfortably restless.
The cooperation Hugo had wanted from him before the expedition had finally come—but not in the way he’d hoped.
After a long pause, Hugo rose from his chair. It was time to speak to him.
Leonardo sat on the massive root of a tree, exhaling smoke in slow, blank plumes.
The broad leaves above shielded him from the worst of the drizzle, but rain still dampened his hair, beaded on his face, and ran down his shoulders.
He paid it no mind, lost in thought with the cigarette between his lips.
If things keep going smoothly, we might finish sooner than expected.
But the thought dragged his gaze downward, heavy.
Then again, there’ll be more monsters ahead. That will slow us down...
A raindrop slid past his right eye. He stared quietly into the dark forest.
The night air carried the occasional call of insects and birds; the steady hiss of drizzle striking broad leaves made a strangely regular rhythm. Leonardo listened, eyes fixed on the unseen distance.
Should I run away?
At that thought, the rain above him stopped. The space around him grew faintly brighter.
Looking up, he saw a broad blue barrier stretched overhead like a translucent roof. Turning his head, he found Hugo approaching through the glow of a hovering light sphere.
“You seem to smoke often these days,” Hugo said lightly.
He didn’t understand why a mage of such power would sit in the rain, cigarette in hand, looking so bleak—but the sight tugged at him. The rain clinging to his lashes, trailing down his face, was oddly arresting.
Leonardo rose immediately as Hugo drew near. With a touch of mana, he burned the remaining cigarette to ash in his fingers. Passing Hugo °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° without pausing, he said coldly,
“If necessary, I’ll limit my personal movements.”
Hugo faltered at the tone, exhaling a small sigh as he turned toward him.
“That’s not what I meant, Leonardo.”
But Leonardo didn’t slow. Hugo raked a hand through his hair, brows drawn, and followed.
As Leonardo neared the cave entrance, he angled toward his tent—only to almost collide with a member standing there. The man startled at the sudden appearance, and Leonardo froze briefly before stepping to pass him.
The member’s hand shot out, catching his arm.
“Uh, um—”
Leonardo recoiled instinctively, jerking free. The slap of contact breaking sounded loud in the rain. The member stood holding his hand with a bewildered look; Leonardo, too, seemed momentarily thrown off. Hugo, arriving just then, saw the exchange.
Leonardo glanced between the man’s face and his hand, then ran a tense hand through his hair.
“What?” he asked curtly.
“Ah...”
The member pushed aside his fluster to speak, but his words tangled at the sight of the Commander standing just behind Leonardo.
Leonardo frowned and started past him again. The soldier hesitated, then hurried to call after him.
“Uh—I heard you saved me when I fell into the lake and blacked out. I never got to thank you... I’m sorry for grabbing you so suddenly.”
Leonardo stopped.
He turned back to study the man.
The soldier’s arm was bandaged; only then did Leonardo recognize him as the one who’d been grazed by a venomous stinger and dragged under during that fight.
And, by memory, the same man who’d been caught dozing on night watch, making it easy for Leonardo to slip away.
For a member of the 1st Battalion—supposed to be a fully combat-ready unit—he was soft-spoken, almost like a fresh recruit.
Leonardo looked at him for a long beat, then shifted his gaze to Hugo watching from behind. After a pause, he sighed deeply and addressed the soldier.
“Hey.”
“Y-Yes?”
The man lifted his head hastily to meet those golden eyes—only to drop his gaze again.
“Don’t thank me,” Leonardo said, voice cold.
“...Pardon?”
Leonardo turned away.
“I won’t save you again,” he said, walking into the tent.
The flap closed behind him, leaving the soldier staring blankly.
Hugo sighed softly, stepped forward, and set a hand on the man’s shoulder.
“Your feelings were conveyed well enough. Don’t dwell on it.”
The soldier glanced up at him, still subdued.
Outside, the drizzle had become a heavy downpour, drumming on the ground until the earth turned to mud.
The sound of rain only grew louder, and it did not stop until morning.
