"Oh, this one is quite something," Puck remarked, drifting out from Emilia's hair to offer his critique. "So fragile, yet he has the spine to stand his ground. Truly fascinating."
"That's not right, is it, Puck?"
Emilia's violet eyes shimmered with a flicker of pity. She bit her lip, watching with growing anxiety as the man on the screen—Hachiman Hikigaya—was systematically broken. "He can't win. Why doesn't he just run away?"
"That's where his brilliance lies, Lia. You wouldn't understand just yet." Puck shook his head, a thoughtful glint in his feline eyes. "My praise isn't just for his courage."
The spirit's voice quickened as he analyzed the scene. "This boy was snatched away and dropped into the capital. He's wandering a foreign world, utterly alone. Imagine his disorientation, his dread. He's kept his cool this long, but if he doesn't vent that rising frustration, it'll burn him from the inside out. He's using those thugs as an outlet, Lia. He's weaponizing his own anger."
Puck paused, a teasing smirk tugging at his whiskers.
"More importantly, while he says he doesn't want help, it's obvious he was worried about that girl passing by. He didn't know if she could handle those thugs, so he intentionally cut off any reason for her to get involved. He forced the burden onto himself to keep her safe."
Puck's tail flicked playfully. "In that regard, he's actually quite a bit like you, Lia. That's why I like him so much."
"Puck!"
A wave of embarrassed heat rushed to Emilia's cheeks. She turned her head away sharply, refusing to listen to any more of his "explanations," and fixed her gaze back on the celestial screen.
["Die, you little brat!"]
[The lead thug lunges, a dagger flashing in a lethal arc. Hachiman is forced to dodge, his movements jerky and pained, but the man he was targeting is already slumped against the wall, nearly unconscious. The sight makes the remaining two hesitate.]
["What's wrong? Not coming?" Hachiman's face is a map of bruises and swelling, yet his voice remains a jagged needle of provocation.]
[Furious, the second thug leaps forward, his fist aimed squarely at Hachiman's temple. Hachiman meets the motion with stillness, then snaps his right leg upward like a whip. He trades a heavy blow to the ribs for a crushing kick to his opponent's throat. The second man goes down. Hachiman sways, his vision blurring as he nears the limit of his endurance.]
[The leader lets out a guttural roar, thrusting his blade toward Hachiman's chest. Hachiman is too slow, too broken to move. He closes his eyes, bracing for the cold bite of steel.]
["That's enough!"]
[A sudden burst of frost erupts, encasing the alley in shimmering ice. The two men freeze in place. Before the thug can even process the change, his dagger is encased in a block of ice and his wrist is numbed by a searing cold.]
["A-A Magic User?" the thug stammers, cold sweat pouring down his face. He doesn't stay a second longer. Grabbing his groaning companions, he scrambles away like a beaten cur.]
"What a lovely voice."
"Yes, exactly! I wonder which noble mage saved that boy? With a voice that sweet, she must be a peerless beauty!"
"To think we might actually see the face of such a kind-hearted lady of the arts!"
The streets of the capital were filled with a chorus of praise. Many had found themselves rooting for Hachiman, and their relief translated into instant adoration for his savior. Emilia heard it all—every word of admiration.
Her ears turned a deep, flustered crimson. She fidgeted, her fingers twisting the fabric of her sleeves as a strange, fluttering mix of emotions surged in her chest.
"Ah, it's Lia's voice," Puck said, his tone a mix of amusement and irony.
[The girl steps into the light. Her silver hair flows over her shoulders like a river of moonlight, and her amethyst eyes are deep and hauntingly beautiful. Her features are a delicate balance of elegance and innocence, her skin as white as fresh snow. She tries to maintain a mask of indifference, but the genuine concern in her eyes betrays her.]
["This is as far as it goes. Fighting is something I cannot condone!" The girl, who looks capable of making anyone fall in love at first sight, speaks with a strange, stiff formality. "I'm not saving you, mind you. My power simply leaked out while I was passing by. Please don't get any ideas about thanking me. Ugh, they really did a number on you..."]
"That appearance! Hey, are you kidding me?"
"Isn't that... a Half-Elf?"
"How could a devilish Half-Elf be so kind? It's a trap! She's definitely plotting something. Pretending to be a saint... it makes me sick!"
In an instant, the continental chorus of praise curdled into a venomous roar of insults and accusations.
The people ignored her beauty. They ignored her undeniably heroic act. Simply because of her heritage, the "angel" they had just worshipped was recalculated into a "demon."
"Lia." Puck looked at his daughter, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous growl. "I'm going to go kill them."
"Don't!"
Standing in a quiet corner of the capital, Emilia felt the malice of the world pressing in on her. She bit her lip until it turned white, her slender fingers white-knuckled against her sleeve. "...You can't hurt people just for saying things like that, Puck."
The shy joy she had felt at being seen was gone, replaced by a hollow, familiar ache of sorrow.
Puck sighed, floating up to rest on her head, his tiny paws attempting to cover her ears. "Then ignore these fools. Let's just watch the screen, Lia."
[Hachiman Hikigaya tilts his head. His expression is one of utter disbelief, as if he has stumbled upon a legendary treasure he never believed existed. His mouth hangs open slightly, but before he can utter a word, his consciousness finally snaps. He begins to slump toward the ground.]
[The girl's mask of indifference shatters. She gasps and rushes forward, catching him before he hits the cobbles.]
["We still have important business to attend to, don't we, Lia?" the cat-spirit says, popping into view.]
["I know, Puck. But..." The girl wavers, her kindness winning out.]
["Fine, fine. I get it. Sigh." Puck grows in size, taking Hachiman's weight from her. He begins to weave a basic spell to knit the worst of the wounds. "I'm not a healer, so this is the best I can do. Now, can we go?"]
["No!" the girl says with sudden, firm resolve. "Leaving him here alone isn't safe. We stay until he wakes up."]
On the screen, every gesture was fluid and natural. There wasn't a hint of hypocrisy in her actions.
This was something no magic or trickery could have staged for the heavens.
"Is it possible..." someone in the crowd muttered, their voice trembling. "Is it possible that Half-Elf is actually... truly kind?"
"...How could that be?" The skeptic's reply lacked its usual venom.
Involuntarily, the cursing on the streets of the capital began to quiet, if only by a fraction.