"I knew something was off, Allen. You suddenly insisted on escorting me back, all while playing it cool like you just wanted to walk me a bit of the way. Turns out you were coming back here—to take out the bandit stronghold."
"But why didn't you tell me? Why go through all that, send me away first, then sneak back by yourself? I figured something was wrong as soon as you left. Thought back on everything from last night… yeah, it was here. This exact spot where you disappeared in the middle of the night."
Allen had wanted to explain the moment they ran into each other earlier, but before he could say a word, Roxy shot him a glare—then immediately started using fire magic to dispose of the bodies.
He stood and watched as she went through the entire process of cleanup with practiced ease, then got dragged away by his sleeve and pulled far from the scene of the crime.
Only now, after everything had been dealt with, were they finally talking properly.
In the forest, "Blue Mom" was now heating water with magic, standing on a boulder behind Allen as she washed his hair.
A floating [Water Ball] was suspended in the air, the bottom heated by a steady flame. A small opening at the base let warm water pour steadily down over Allen's head and shoulders, soaking his body and pooling into a shallow basin of red-tinged runoff below.
Of course, Allen was still clothed. But given how much blood was stuck to him, they'd figured it was easier to wash everything down all at once while doing his hair.
"Uh… to be honest, it was just too dangerous," Allen said.
"And going alone wasn't?" Roxy muttered, half-lidding her eyes as she gently combed through the blood-matted knots in his hair.
Allen sat with his back to her, shoulders hunched. He looked a little sheepish—he'd tried to play it off and thought he'd pulled it off. Only for Roxy to realize something was wrong the moment they split up.
Why hadn't she noticed when they were together, though?
Strange.
"Uh… I guess I trusted myself," he said, trying again.
Bonk.
Roxy flicked his head. Then again. And again.
Each strike sounded like someone knocking on a watermelon.
Allen knew he was in the wrong—after all, he had basically used her like a glorified support mage. So he took the hits without complaint.
But she didn't stop.
After the third or fourth whack, he began to feel like one of those soft-shelled turtles poking its head out of a market tank only to get smacked back in by a vendor.
Finally, he raised a hand to block her—
—but Roxy had just finished and was about to reach down to continue scrubbing.
Their hands tangled midair.
Allen froze.
And—reflexively—gave her fingers a slight squeeze.
Soft. Smooth. Warm... Her fingers are so delicate, there's barely any flesh to them. Like they'd break if I pushed just a bit harder.
Wait—what the hell am I thinking?!
He snapped back to his senses.
But he could feel it. Roxy's fingers had gone stiff.
Slowly, dazedly, he looked up.
Roxy's face flickered between light and shadow beneath the hovering flame. Her eyes were locked on their joined hands.
Then she noticed Allen looking up—and quickly glanced away.
Her voice trembled slightly, carried off by the night breeze.
"...Next time something like this happens... write to me. I might be able to help. Maybe. We... said we'd be adventurers together someday."
"…Okay."
"If it's really dangerous, you can ask Paul-sama too. He's advanced in all three sword styles, you know. You really shouldn't be doing this kind of thing alone. Everyone's going to be worried. You'd better apologize when you get back."
"…Okay."
"Any injuries on your hands? Or anywhere else? Do you need healing?"
"…Okay. Wait—no, I mean, I'm fine."
"But didn't you say before that [Twenty-Fold Slash] puts a lot of strain on your body? You must've used it tonight. I saw you practicing it recently."
"Well… there's a bit of strain, but I'm alright."
"So you lied to me before?"
"No! I didn't—but seriously, I'm—"
"O merciful mother-goddess, heal his wounds and restore his body to full health—"
"[Healing]!"
"…Thanks."
"You're welcome. Any lingering pain?"
"No. Nothing at all."
Roxy had already turned her gaze back to his face.
In the dim glow, she looked down. Allen looked up.
They met each other's eyes and went completely silent.
At some point, the water had stopped pouring.
Maybe Roxy had gotten distracted and lost control of the spell. Or maybe…
Maybe this way, she could see Allen more clearly.
Or maybe—
She just wanted to look at him.
Who knew what Roxy was thinking? She just gazed at him with a faint, conflicted expression. Her dark blue eyes flickered softly in the firelight.
Then, finally, she pulled her hand away.
Only then did Allen realize—he'd been holding her hand that entire time.
He blinked, stunned, staring at his own palm, completely blanking out.
For a boy who had spent part of his sixth year hiding in a brothel, passed around and squished by giggling older "sisters"…
...he now felt as shy as a three-year-old.
Roxy took a deep breath and turned around, conjuring a larger [Water Ball] with a snap of her fingers. Fire wrapped around its edges, water bubbling softly inside.
"…The forest air is really nice at night, huh."
"Y-Yeah."
She pointed at the water over her shoulder.
"Go on. Take a bath. You still reek of blood."
"Sure…"
By the time Allen had washed himself and his clothes, and endured Roxy's painfully inefficient "blind drying" process—her back turned and face covered the whole time—the sun was already rising.
They walked out of the forest together and reached the road.
"Make sure you write, okay?"
"I will."
Allen's clothes were wrinkled and still a little damp. He waved goodbye.
Birdsong drifted through the trees. Roxy smiled brightly at him.
"See you in the future, then."
Only then did Allen realize—in yesterday's rush, he hadn't given her the chance to say those words back.
He scratched his face, awkward, watching Roxy walk backward as she waved.
Her lips parted like she wanted to say something else.
But seeing the dumb, dazed look on Allen's face, she blinked, pursed her lips, and said nothing.
Instead, she simply smiled faintly and turned away, heading back toward Rigait City.
Allen watched her until her silhouette vanished from sight.
Then he lowered his head, looking at his hand.
The morning light cast a fiery glow over his fingers, like a silk veil of flame.
Even so, his hand still felt... cold.
Maybe it was just the early summer chill?
But then why was he sweating?
Maybe it was last night's heat?
But then why only his palm?
Allen thought about it for a long while but found no answer. Since he still had to make it back to the Greyrat estate, he settled on a simple conclusion and started walking.
It must have been...
Because the morning sun's warmth—
Couldn't compare to the warmth of Roxy's hand.
That was an easy conclusion.