"Purchase the exclusive rights to my singing."
Mira stared blankly at Marco, completely caught off guard by this move.
Looking at Marco's bright, sunny smile—as if he were forever radiating light to illuminate those around him—Mira felt as though an electric current had shot through her mind, leaving her entire body tingling and numb.
"How... how should this be sold?"
Mira was utterly bewildered.
She blinked her large eyes at Marco and asked foolishly.
"Of course, you should set the price. How much do you think the exclusive rights to your singing are worth? I'll pay whatever you decide. From then on, your voice will belong to me—commercially, that is. You can still sing for yourself whenever you want."
Marco said this as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
It had to be Mira who set the price; otherwise, he'd just be digging his own grave.
If he were the one to name a price, his answer would only be one thing: "priceless."
Something that couldn't be measured in money.
"Then... I'll let you use it for free." Mira had calmed down by now.
She smiled as she spoke, still unwilling to accept payment.
She had already planned to sing only for Marco anyway.
'Huh, why does that sound weird?'
'Well, I mean, I'll only sing songs written by Marco... Wait, that still sounds kind of strange?'
After saying those words, Mira began muttering to herself internally, her face warming up and turning slightly red from her own thoughts.
"...Mira, do you know that sometimes, the things that are free end up being the most expensive?"
Marco shook his head with a smile and uttered that classic saying.
Free things might seem like they come without any cost, but often, they carry hidden conditions.
The gifts of fate always come with a price tag.
"But... there are people who help others without expecting anything in return, right? Not everything has a price, does it?"
Mira blinked and looked at Marco seriously.
For example, wasn't the boy right in front of her always helping her?
Wasn't he always helping the children in the guild?
Marco's actions had changed their lives, altered their destinies, yet he had never asked for anything in return.
Even now, he was still solving their problems.
"..."
Marco fell silent, unsure how to respond.
Did he really expect nothing in return?
Had his gifts and assistance truly not come with hidden costs? He didn't dare claim that.
Perhaps Mira felt this way because Marco had already received his payment—the [Saint System] had settled the bill on their behalf.
That was why Marco could remain so composed, why he could act as though he needed no repayment.
Marco never considered himself a saint.
He was just a man with principles, someone willing to offer help within his means.
At best, he might barely qualify as a decent person.
Even calling himself a "good person" felt like a stretch.
Being good wasn't easy—the cost of goodness was incredibly high.
Because good people were always the ones with guns pointed at them, the ones forced to their knees by knives.
There was no helping it.
When others believed harming you came at little to no cost, the blade swinging at you, the gun aimed your way—none of it would hesitate.
Therefore, even if he wanted to be a good person, Marco had to be 'a good person wearing armor and wielding a blade'—that was the prerequisite for being good.
Armor and a blade might not be tools for creating profit, but they were absolutely essential for being a good person.
Without a blade in hand or armor on your body, you shouldn't casually try to be good or thoughtlessly show kindness to others.
"Wait, does that mean you have some ulterior motive towards me too, Marco?"
Seeing Marco fall silent, Mira gave him a strange look.
This little delinquent really didn't think before she spoke.
"Huh? Towards you? What motive? You're just a skinny twig."
Marco widened his eyes, looking utterly exasperated, and blurted out exactly what he was thinking.
"Ahhh! Marco!"
His words instantly made Mira bristle, and she reached out to smack him.
"Whoosh!"
Laughing, Marco dodged and leaped far away.
"Don't get the wrong idea, Mira! I didn't say anything!"
Marco raised his hands in surrender, but the grin on his face no longer looked the least bit sunny to Mira—just downright infuriating!
"I'm just worried about you, Mira. You're too thin—you really should eat more."
Marco tried to explain himself, but his excuse clearly wasn't going to fly with Mira in her current mood.
'This jerk... He's actually copying Erza now!'
Mira fumed inwardly.
Erza often called her "skinny twig," mocking her figure—all thanks to that barrel-shaped hag!
"Ahem, I've got things to do. Later!"
Seeing Mira's anger, Marco immediately made a run for it.
To be fair, both Mira and Erza were around his age, their bodies were starting to develop, and they were already somewhat conscious of their figures.
He really should have been more careful with his words.
This kind of thing was a bit sensitive for girls.
Even though they were all kids, children these days tended to mature early, especially girls, who seemed naturally more aware of such matters.
But honestly, Marco had never paid much attention to this stuff.
They were all just kids—not that it was illegal or anything, but Marco's type was curvy, mature older women.
He had absolutely no interest in these little brats in that way.
Especially since Erza and Mira acted more like tomboys—their personalities were boyish, and their figures were boyish too.
If anyone was thinking about them that way, wouldn't it mean they were into guys?
Marco mentally grumbled as he swiftly fled the guild, practically scrambling to escape.
Mira didn't chase after him.
Instead, she glanced around—just in time to see Erza walking into the guildhall.
Instantly, Mira found her scapegoat.
"Barrel hag! Take this!"
Eyes blazing, Mira charged at Erza.
"Huh?! Skinny twig! You looking for a fight?!"
Erza, baffled by the sudden insult, immediately fired back—and, of course, hit the nail on the head.
This only made Mira angrier.
It was all Erza's fault! She was the one who kept calling her that in the guild!
Mira called Erza "barrel hag" because Erza did a lot of physical training and hadn't fully grown into her body yet, making her look stocky.
But in reality, Erza wasn't actually fat.
But when Erza called Mira a "skinny beanpole," she really hit a nerve—otherwise, Mira wouldn't have gotten so angry.
Mira's current physique was indeed just that: a bare, lanky "beanpole."
"Don't ever call me a skinny beanpole again!" Mira pointed at Erza, demanding loudly.
"Then you can't call me a barrel woman either!"
Erza pointed right back at her.
Though she didn't understand why Mira suddenly brought this up, she definitely couldn't just agree outright.
"Deal! It's settled then!" Mira agreed without hesitation.
"Uh… so are we still fighting?"
Erza blinked, feeling like Mira was acting a bit strange.
Did being called a "skinny beanpole" really hurt her that much?
"Of course we are!" Mira was still fuming and needed to vent.
"Then bring it on!"
Though she had been confused from the start, Erza never backed down from a challenge.
She immediately got into a fighting stance.
Bam! Crash!
Mira and Erza quickly started brawling—though, of course, not seriously. It was just a sparring match.
"I don't know why they're fighting, but I can't fall behind! Gray! Gajeel! I'm gonna beat you both today too!"
Natsu, who had been watching Mira and Erza go at it, scratched his head before immediately running off to find his usual sparring partners.
"Giggle~ Has Mira reached the age where she cares about her figure now?"
Behind the bar, Aero, who had been watching the spectacle all morning, couldn't help but cover her mouth in amusement.
But honestly, Mira really should be a little concerned.
At this age, girls were in their adolescence—they should have developed at least a little by now. But Mira still looked just like a boy...
Aero's gaze toward Mira now carried a hint of sympathy.
Poor Mira… she's already lost terribly at the starting line!
But there was no need to despair.
Adolescence was a long journey—just because she started behind didn't mean she'd stay behind.
A comeback was always possible!
Aero began wondering if she should recommend some special ingredients to Mira.
If she was a little late in developing, she could make up for it—eat more, keep her nutrition sufficient and balanced.
That would still help somewhat.
Besides, Mira really was too thin.
Maybe it was because she used to eat less, saving food for her younger siblings.
Thinking of this, Aero's eyes grew even more tender.
This child has had it hard as the eldest sister since she was little.
Maybe that's why Marco often helps her—he must have noticed it too, right?
Marco, who had already left the guild, had no idea what Aero was thinking.
But the reason he often helped Mira wasn't out of pity.
His reasoning was simple: because they were comrades, because they were family in the same guild.
That was why he helped.
Marco knew Mira didn't need anyone's pity either.
You couldn't become her friend with that kind of attitude.
Stubborn Mira would never accept anyone's charity—otherwise, she wouldn't have been in such a hurry to move out of the guild dorms.
Up until now, the only person she owed anything to was Marco—she had borrowed money from him.
That was probably proof of how special Marco was in her heart.
Marco had helped Lisanna and Elfman free her from her inner demons.
That shared experience was truly different—it was a precious memory.
"By the way… has Jose Porla been sentenced yet?"
After letting his thoughts wander for a while, Marco walked over to the newsstand and began flipping through the newspapers.
Normally, the vendor would have shooed away anyone browsing like this, but seeing it was Marco, the owner remained all smiles with no intention of driving him away.
Instead, he struck up a cheerful conversation.
"Do you have any news about Jose Porla?" Marco asked directly, stopping his search.
"Sure do! Though they're all sold out. I kept one copy for myself—here, take it. The paper says Jose Porla has been transferred to the Magic Council headquarters for trial. Seems like quite the big deal," the vendor said, handing over a newspaper.
The issue had sold exceptionally well, snapped up early by eager readers.
Luckily, the vendor had saved a copy, or Marco would have made the trip for nothing.
Not just this stand—every newsstand in Magnolia had completely sold out.
"Transferred to the Magic Council headquarters?" Marco was surprised, but upon reflection, it made sense.
The Fiore branch of the Magic Council had no authority to judge someone like Jose Porla.
The fact that the man had stayed put there at all was already giving the Council face.
Taking the newspaper, Marco skimmed the contents and quickly realized Jose Porla wasn't doing the Magic Council any favors—someone had been keeping watch over him, forcing him to behave.
He simply hadn't dared make a move.
"Warrod Sequen was actually in Fiore at the time?" Marco was astonished.
The person tasked with overseeing Jose Porla was none other than Warrod Sequen, one of the founders of Fairy Tail and a member of the Ten Wizard Saints.
With Warrod around, it was no surprise Jose Porla hadn't dared cause any trouble.
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