—There was a document to deliver to Mercè, another hero like me.
The moment I heard that from my adjutant, I took it without hesitation.
He had given me an odd look as I listed off reasons and half-forcefully stole the job from him, but I hardly regretted doing it.
Thanking the adjutant for his constant support was another of a "hero's" jobs, and even if I were able to see him on the way, it would be entirely due to "coincidence," so...—
—...No. That was an excuse...
I hadn't been able to see him—El—since the enrollment ceremony.
Of course, we belonged to the same organization, so it would not be difficult for me to meet him.
If I wished it, I would be able to see his face at once.
After all, I had actually made a thorough check of whose unit he had been assigned to, and he was living in now.
—And yet... the courage to meet him wasn't in me...
What would I do if... he addressed my like a stranger again?
No... if that were all, it would still be alright.
Because, if that were all, the problem would be at an end if I stepped up to meet him.
The worst would really be if I froze up in front of El again, and in the end could manage nothing but "hero"-like words.
If it came to that... it might turn out like out reunion at the enrollment ceremony.
—No... then we had the excuse of being still in the middle of the ceremony.
But if... if the same thing ended up happening again... if it happened without an excuse... it might be fixed that we "had been" childhood friends.
That would degrade the past that to me was nearly a treasure into a mere "past"; it was something I could not permit.
—But... if I always run away... I won't be a "hero," will I?
As if to give myself courage, I squeezed the handkerchief in my pocket.
Ever since that day, it had been my charm and even a drug to calm my spirit, and as long as I had it...
I was sure that I'd be able to manage somehow.
Perhaps... I might even be able to return it.
The moment I turned a corner, encouraging myself thus, a woman's rousing voice and a man's troubled-sounding one reached me.
—...This voice is...?
That woman's voice, with its brisk, almost mannish tone, was very distinctive, and it was familiar even to me.
It was possible I was mistaken, but I felt sure the owner of that voice was Lady Mercè Daskalos, who, like me, belonged to the Order of Holy Knights.
I didn't recognize the voice of the man talking to her, but its tone was undoubtedly troubled.
—From what I could hear of the conversation, it seemed that Lady Mercè was inviting him for drinks, but...
I felt certain that the two of them must be quite close.
Lady Mercè had been repeating her invitation to the man for some time.
While his replies sounded troubled, the man did not seem to be quite so unhappy as he let on.
I could tell he did not personally dislike the suggestion by the fact that the reasons he gave her mostly amounted to hiding behind "work."
—But... really, this wasn't the place to be saying such things...
Of course, I didn't think of anything so arrogant as trying to control love affairs within the Order.
Still, this was the headquarters of the Order of Holy Knights, which ought to be the shield of the nations of the faith.
Moreover, Lady Mercè and her companion were speaking in a hallway touched by the eyes of many people, and it was still during work hours.
I had to tell them that conducting conversation there was simply too careless.
—I would be sorry to throw cold water on them, but...
Seeing that it would influence the morale of others, I had to give them a word of warning.
Silently murmuring that to myself, I turned another corner.
Through the window of the elegant, red-carpeted corridor, the figure of Lady Mercè, tall for a woman, entered my view.
If I turned the next corner at once, I would come out in front of the pair.
—The instant I turned the corner with that thought in my head, my feet stopped.
Lady Mercè's arms were entwined like constricting serpents around a man with flaming red hair.
Even as his eyes, which seemed to be shining with a strong purpose, showed a touch of bewilderment, his face was reddening at the breasts pressed against his back.
From the fact that he was holding a bundle of documents, I guessed that he had been entangled by Lady Mercè in the middle of a job. .
He seemed serious, and the word "work" frequently passed his lips.
—Hu... h...? Wh... y...?
I felt my head shake violently at seeing the man... no... my childhood friend El like that.
But... his expression was the same as I remembered it.
The redness of his complexion might be due to the breasts being pressed into his back, but he was making exactly the same expression as when he had listened to my whims.
—Even though... he refused to look at me like that...!
At the same time a stabbing pain wounded my breast, such ugly emotions gushed forth.
It was... it must have been what is called jealousy.