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The Magic City of Äußerst. Deep within the heart of the Northern Branch lay the office of the Great Mage, Serie.
The sunlight spilling across the thick carpet had already passed its zenith, carrying with it the languid heat typical of the early afternoon. Yet, Genau’s vision was terribly blurred.
He had spent the entire night scouring the archives. Quite literally, he hadn't slept a wink. Having navigated a vast sea of documents, he had finally compiled his report and presented it to the master of the throne.
"My apologies. I absolutely needed this done by today... I know I asked much of you," Serie said, her gaze lowered to the stack of parchment. It was rare for her to offer such words of appreciation.
Genau forced his leaden eyelids open and replied, his voice stripped of all emotion.
"It is not a problem."
"You are as unyielding as iron, Genau. But..." Serie mused, "it seems your companion has reached her limit."
Genau followed her gaze. The woman standing beside him was swaying on her feet, looking as though half her soul had already left her body.
"...Hey. Methode."
He kept his voice low and sharp, trying to maintain some semblance of decorum, but her reaction was dreadfully sluggish. Her head drooped, a cascade of long hair falling forward, and her lowered lashes gave only a faint quiver. Not a shred of the commanding presence expected of a First-Class Mage remained; she was utterly defenseless, barely enduring the sheer weight of her exhaustion.
Serie watched Genau’s growing exasperation with a wry smile.
"It's fine. Let her be. Even a First-Class Mage cannot defeat sleep..." Serie said. "You have both done well, Genau, Methode. Take the rest of the day to recover."
At her dismissal, Genau let out a short breath, straightened his posture, and bowed.
"Thank you."
Perhaps registering their master’s permission to leave, Methode's consciousness managed to briefly surface. Her shoulders gave a sudden, unnatural jolt. However, her half-lidded eyes remained vacant. Her focus seemed to wander through some distant dimension.
"Thank... you... fufu... Lady Serie... Now, for today's headpats..."
Gratitude and sheer audacity spilled from her lips in a languid drawl, as if her soul were already halfway to the afterlife. She attempted what might have been a bow, but instead, her body pitched forward like a puppet with its strings cut.
"Careful."
Genau’s arm shot out reflexively, catching her firmly by the shoulder to stop her fall.
"Give up on the headpats for today."
"But..."
"You would hardly enjoy petting her in such a delirious state anyway."
"...I suppose so."
Methode reluctantly conceded. Perhaps lulled into a false sense of security by his steady grip, she simply rested her forehead against Genau’s chest and went completely limp.
Genau adjusted his hold on her, his movements attentive, yet surprisingly practiced. Watching the exchange, Serie let out another soft, uncharacteristic chuckle.
"Forgive the display, Lady Serie."
"...It is fine. Look after her, Genau."
It was a dismissal, yet her tone carried an undercurrent of softness. Genau offered a silent bow and took his leave, half-dragging his dead-on-her-feet partner out of the office.
--
The moment the heavy doors shut behind them, sealing them in the quiet of the stone corridor, Methode’s footsteps grew even more unsteady.
"Hey, Methode. Are you alright?"
"...I'm sleepy."
It was an unvarnished confession—something the usually composed mage would never utter under normal circumstances. Her typical grace and that faintly maternal air of hers had been completely stripped away by the sheer, overwhelming brutality of an all-nighter.
"Hey, don't stagger around. It's dangerous."
She stumbled, nearly slamming her shoulder into the stone wall, but Genau instantly caught her by the arm. Her slender arm felt fragile in his grip. Yet she paid it no mind, instead shifting a fraction of her weight against his side.
"...I'm sleepy."
Repeating the phrase like a broken magic tool, Methode allowed herself to be half-dragged until Genau finally managed to guide them out into the courtyard.
It was the early afternoon of a rest day. Fortunately, the area was entirely deserted. Genau steered her toward a bench dappled in the shade of the trees, gently easing her down just as her legs threatened to give out entirely.
"Hah..."
Genau himself was utterly exhausted. It wasn't as if he was immune to the heavy pull of sleep. But as he watched the woman beside him begin to doze off, her head nodding lazily, the thread of his own tension strangely refused to snap.
"...Genau."
She called his name suddenly, her voice thick and dream-like.
"What is it?"
"...I'm a little hungry."
Methode murmured, her unfocused eyes staring blankly into the middle distance.
"That is rare for you. But I suppose we haven't eaten anything since dinner yesterday."
Genau agreed. She blinked slowly, then opened her mouth once more.
"Genau..."
"What now?"
"...I'm a little hungry."
Genau couldn't help but stare up at the sky. Her thought processes had completely short-circuited. The formidable defenses of the usually brilliant mage were entirely dismantled, leaving her like a toddler doing nothing but complaining about an empty stomach.
"You just said that."
He sighed in exasperation, yet he forced himself to stand up. The woman who was usually the one fussing over everyone else was now leaning on him with complete abandon. Her utter helplessness was strangely amusing, like dealing with a demanding, overgrown hatchling.
"...Wait here. I will go fetch some strong tea to wake you up, and a piece of bread."
As he turned to leave, a faint, thread-like voice reached his back.
"Thank you..."
He glanced over his shoulder to see her fully slumped against the back of the bench, her eyes already closed. Looking at her completely unguarded, sleeping face, Genau let out a faint, wry smile—one he would never allow anyone else to see—and hurried off toward the dining hall.
--
Genau returned to the courtyard with a tray holding a pot of hot tea and a quick plate of sandwiches from the dining hall. As he approached, he stopped dead in his tracks.
"Methode, I brought some light refreshments..."
"Welcome back... Genau..." she greeted him with a melting smile. But right in front of her sat it.
"Hey, Methode. What is this?"
"I thought we would need a table if we were going to eat..."
A massive, heavy stone round table—which definitely hadn't been there before he left—now sat in front of the bench. It was covered in delicate reliefs, clearly the painstaking work of some master sculptor. Yet, through the magic of a woman who was supposedly swaying on her feet at her absolute limit, it had been ruthlessly reduced to a convenient dining table.
"...Isn't this an exhibition piece belonging to the Magic Association? Where did you pull this from?"
"Over there."
The half-dozing woman pointed a floppy finger toward the far end of the corridor. It was the display area where numerous gifts from artists to the Magic Association were ostentatiously lined up. Fortunately, it wasn't a relic of immense historical value, but it was undoubtedly an expensive, one-of-a-kind piece nonetheless.
"Fufu... It was just the right height to set our teacups on..."
"...I'm returning this later."
Exasperated by her misguided consideration, Genau set the tray down and deftly poured tea into two cups. Along with the steam, the pleasant aroma of bergamot tickled his nose.
"I am so sorry, Genau... making you do absolutely everything for me..."
"No, it's fine. I was the one who received the request from Lady Serie this time, after all." Genau gave a short shake of his head as he placed a cup in front of Methode. "You helped me. I am the one who should be thanking you. This much is nothing."
"In that case..."
Methode looked up at Genau with heavy, lidded eyes and parted her small, cherry-blossom pink lips.
"...The sandwich... feed me, please..."
"Wait a minute, I never said I would go that far."
"But I helped you... ahh..."
"..."
Was her reason paralyzed by exhaustion, or was this simply her innate habit of seeking to be pampered? Faced with a toddler's demand shielded by a grand justification, Genau sighed deeply. However, seeing the faint dark circles under her eyes from staying up all night with him, he couldn't bring himself to coldly push her away.
"...Here."
As if surrendering, he pinched a small sandwich between his fingers and brought it to her soft lips. As if she had been waiting for exactly this, Methode let out a small "hamu" and took a bite. It was a defenseless, uninhibited way of eating, completely devoid of her usual meticulous etiquette. Soon, her cheeks relaxed slightly, and a smile blossomed on her face like a spring flower.
"It's delicious..."
"...Everything tastes good when you're starving."
Despite his dismissive words, Genau's gaze was gentle. But Methode's requests didn't end there.
"Genau... one more bite, please..."
Nodding off like a sleepy hatchling, she parted her lips once more.
"...Feed yourself."
Genau tried to make his voice strict, but Methode paid it no mind. Keeping her long eyelashes lowered, she pouted her lips slightly.
"My hands are... so heavy, I can't lift them... I was running my pen all night, you see..."
Her voice was a faint, fading whisper. Yet, it carried the undeniable implication that this was the price of her dedicated assistance the night before. Usually, she would employ far more alluring, adult negotiation tactics, but in her current hazy state, it sounded like nothing more than the excuses of a child begging to be spoiled.
"...Fine. I understand."
Realizing his utter defeat, Genau let out a small breath. Whether her arms were truly screaming in pain or she was just acting, none of it mattered anymore.
"...Here. Chew properly."
"...Yes. Amu..."
He could feel her faint breath brush against his fingertips. In silence, Genau waited patiently for her to swallow. The way her hair swayed with every chew, her eyes narrowing in satisfaction—it was an incredibly defenseless, affectionate gesture, unimaginable from the woman she was on the battlefield.
"Drink your own tea. Do not drop the cup. Hey, don't tilt it like that. It's going to spill."
Even as he rattled off scoldings like a parent dealing with a handful of a child, a strangely profound sense of peace spread through Genau's chest.
"...Are you satisfied?"
"...Yes. Being fed by you is quite exceptional..."
"What nonsense..."
Cutting off Genau's words, Methode set her teacup down. Then, with an undeniable, completely natural motion, she tipped her head sideways and rested it squarely on Genau's lap.
"Borrowing this..."
"Wait... Methode. Wake up."
The soft weight and warmth of her body transmitted heavily through his thigh. Genau instinctively stiffened, trying to hide his agitation.
"Please, let me sleep for just a little bit..."
"If you want to sleep, go back to your room. Hey, Methode."
He reached out to shake her shoulder, but his hand was stopped dead by her next words.
"...I stayed up all night helping... I worked so hard for you, Genau..."
"...You are surprisingly good at guilt-tripping."
"Good night..."
With that, she fell into the rhythmic breathing of sleep. He had been completely overpowered and forced into surrender.
The quiet courtyard, dappled with sunlight filtering through the leaves, was filled only by the distant chirping of birds. Thankfully, it being a day off, there was no one else around. Immobilized, Genau quietly swallowed the rest of his tea.
Looking down, her smooth hair spread neatly across his lap, catching the sunlight and shimmering faintly. She was usually the sharpest woman in the room, never leaving an opening. But seeing her sleeping face so unguarded, she looked as innocent as a young girl. The fact that her light makeup was slightly smudged from the all-nighter only made her feel more grounded and human, drawing his eyes intensely.
(...She's fast asleep.)
Presently, Methode shifted slightly in her sleep.
"Nn..."
With a breath carrying a faint trace of allure, she rolled onto her back. Her perfectly shaped lips were parted just slightly in complete vulnerability.
After being tossed around by her guilt-tripping selfishness, this was the unguarded trust she placed in him. A sense of appreciation, and a small, quiet happiness began to melt deep within his chest. Genau's rationality, supposedly an iron fortress, began to heat up, affected by her warmth and sweet, sleeping breaths.
Calm down. The cold, calculating part of his brain sounded an alarm.
As a First-Class Mage, and as a man. Taking advantage of his sleeping partner's vulnerability was neither rational nor honorable. Such a thing was unforgivable.
But as if painting over that sound logic, her sweet breaths clouded his thoughts into a white haze. The fingertips that had always prioritized discipline now argued they wanted to touch that heat. The urge, once sprouted, was no longer a magic spell to be defended against, but a curse binding his entire body.
Before he realized it, as if drawn by an irresistible gravity.
He found himself leaning his face toward those unguarded lips.
The distance was mere inches.
His shadow fell over her slightly parted, cherry-blossom lips.
If he tilted his head just a fraction more, the minuscule gap between them would drop to absolute zero.
The abnormal state of an all-nighter had comfortably paralyzed Genau's usually ironclad reason.
It was a sweet, fatal moment.
"Genau. What are you doing?"
It was a shock akin to having ice water dumped over his head.
He jerked his head up. Standing in the stone walkway facing the courtyard was Sense, clutching several thick grimoires. As usual, her expression was blank, her incredibly sleepy eyes fixed directly on him.
Genau's heart was hammering faster than it ever had in his life. Yet, years of actual combat experience rushed to salvage his face, instantly reconstructing his iron mask.
"...I just finished compiling a report at Lady Serie's request. We were up all night."
"I didn't ask about that," Sense cut his excuse in half without changing her tone.
"What?"
"I asked what you were doing just now."
"Tea and light refreshments. Because we were up all night."
"No. What were you about to do just now?"
"...Who knows."
Genau gently placed his hand on the head of the sleeping Methode in his lap, rigidly sticking to the facade of "just letting a junior rest." Seeing his unnatural feigned ignorance, Sense let out a small snort of laughter.
"You've changed."
"What are you talking about. I am me."
"We've known each other a long time... but the old you was always driven by murderous intent and lingering grudges."
Genau's brow furrowed slightly at Sense's words.
"You speak as if you know everything. Are you trying to say I've lost that?"
"No. You're still driven by it as always. It's just..."
Sense paused, her gaze dropping to the woman breathing peacefully on Genau's lap.
"...I was just thinking that someone has finally come along to stop you a little when you get carried away."
"...Are you talking about Methode?"
"Who knows. Perhaps. If that is what you think."
Genau could find no words to counter Sense's evasive phrasing.
Because she was right on the mark. In his icy days where he validated nothing but revenge and duty, how much heat and unreasonable sweetness had this woman brought into his life?
"At the very least, you are much more reassuring to watch now. So, stay as you are."
Leaving those words behind, Sense turned on her heel.
Genau was just about to breathe an inward sigh of relief that the lecture was over. That was when it happened.
Sense stopped her departing steps and glanced back over her shoulder. A faint trace of mischief mingled in her sleepy eyes.
"Genau. I'll give you one piece of advice for your future reference."
"...What is it."
Sense stayed silent for a moment.
Only the sound of her long hair swaying smoothly in the wind echoed around them. In the absorbing silence, she stared intently at Methode resting in Genau's arms, then narrowed her eyes in amusement.
After a few seconds of silence that felt like an eternity.
"...Methode is awake, you know."
—What?
Genau's thoughts completely froze.
He immediately looked down at Methode, who was supposedly sleeping on his lap. Her long eyelashes remained lowered, and the rhythm of her steady breathing hadn't changed in the slightest from earlier. It was the picture of perfect sleep.
"...Sense. How can you tell?"
"Conversely, how can you not tell? Methode is a seasoned combat mage," Sense pointed out the ruthless truth flatly. "There is no way she wouldn't notice someone's lips approaching hers. Even if she was sleepy after an all-nighter."
Thud.
Genau heard the sound of the very last shred of his adult dignity collapsing inside his head.
Sense's sleepy gaze remained fixed on him. In the courtyard that had regained its silence, Genau looked down at the "Sleeping Beauty" in his lap with terribly stiff movements.
Which meant that she was fully aware of Genau's gaze, and the presence of his face drawing closer.
And with her eyes closed, and her lips parted... she had been waiting for it...?
His ulterior motives had been perfectly seen through, and his attempted kiss had been witnessed by a third party. For a First-Class Mage, there was no shame more lethal than this.
"...Methode."
The voice he managed to squeeze out was horribly raspy.
The woman on his lap didn't twitch a muscle.
"Are you awake?"
"..."
"Hey, Methode...?"
After a few seconds of a silence heavier than death.
"...I-am-not-a-wake."
An impossibly flat, robotic voice leaked from the trembling lips of the woman on his lap.
It was the collapsed defense mechanism of a woman whose composure and pride as an adult lady had been entirely blown away, unable to endure the unbearable embarrassment.
Hearing that voice, Genau suppressed the overwhelming urge to bury his face in his hands.
Panicking now wouldn't help anything. In fact, he needed to commit to being perfectly calm.
"...Sense. It seems Methode is not awake."
Genau declared, maintaining a completely straight face, practically shielding the woman on his lap.
Standing in the walkway, Sense let out a deep sigh of profound exasperation.
"Hey... I heard her too, you know? No matter how you look at it, she is awake."
Perhaps that merciless pursuit acted as a switch.
Suddenly, the heavy weight vanished from Genau's lap in a fluid motion.
"...Fuaaa. Genau, I apologize. How uncharacteristic of me... I just now woke up."
It was a transparent, third-rate performance that threatened to smear dirt on the prestigious record of a First-Class Mage.
Covering her mouth in a deliberately exaggerated yawn, Methode slowly sat up. An unconcealable crimson flush was spreading from her porcelain cheeks all the way to the tips of her ears.
"I see. Just now, was it... I was just about to wake you myself."
Genau, too, mobilized his iron mask to play along with the terrible acting. It was the exact moment the number of lethally clumsy ham actors—who would instantly invite death if this were a mission—doubled to two.
"Hey... you two..."
Facing Sense's half-lidded stare, Methode forced a lady-like smile onto her face and stood up in a single fluid motion.
"Oh my, Sense. Good afternoon. I didn't realize you were here."
"Hey, Methode... You noticed, didn't you?"
"Working even on your day off, I see. Thank you truly for your hard work."
Methode forcefully overwrote Sense's piercing question with a perfect display of ignorance and polite greetings.
Her eyes were smiling softly, but her expression didn't shift an inch. She was merely maintaining a forced poker face by keeping the smile plastered on.
Staying here any longer is dangerous.
Judging the situation, Genau swiftly transitioned into a tactical retreat.
"Methode. I will return this teacup and tray to the dining hall. You return that round table to its original place."
"Understood. Well then, Sense, we will take our leave. Excuse us."
It was a perfect, perfectly synchronized coordination with absolutely no wasted movement.
With the kind of breathless synchronicity usually reserved for cornering Great Demons, the two of them attempted to destroy the evidence and flee.
Methode lifted the massive stone table with her magic, while Genau, tray in hand, hastily turned his feet toward the courtyard exit.
But against his back, the voice of his merciless friend delivered a finishing blow.
"Hey, Genau."
Genau's feet stopped dead.
He didn't look back.
There was no way he could look back.
He merely braced his broad, rugged back to take the hit, as if to say he would gladly accept the reprimand.
Sense let out the faint hint of a small chuckle, and unleashed her final strike.
"Next time, do that in your room."
The words dropped into the quiet courtyard.
Out of the corner of his eye, Genau saw the shoulders of Methode, who was carrying the round table, give a massive jolt.
For Genau, who had always strictly separated his duties from his personal feelings, those were words he should have instantly denied.
It was a terribly unfitting, sweet piece of advice for a life fueled entirely by hatred for demons.
And yet.
What flashed through Genau's mind was the pleasant weight he had felt on his lap just moments ago.
And her unguarded lips, parted as if waiting for a kiss.
She had been willing to accept it.
And he, undoubtedly, had wanted her too.
He searched everywhere, but couldn't find a single word of denial.
So, he had no choice but to reply like this.
"...Yeah. Understood."
He offered a low, calm response.
The keyword 'next time' swirled around and around in his head.
Will there be a next time?
When will it be?
...Ah. Come to think of it, I'm sleepy too. I'm just going to sleep.
Fin