I turned six.
Life hadn't changed much.
Mornings were for sword training. Afternoons were for fieldwork, if I had time. And under the tree on the hill, I practiced magic.
Recently, I'd been experimenting with ways to use magic to supplement my swordsmanship.
Bursting wind to increase sword speed. Generating shockwaves to flip my body around in an instant. Creating a muddy swamp beneath my opponent's feet to slow them down...
"His swordsmanship isn't improving because he's only thinking about cheap tricks like that."
I'm sure some people would say that.
But I disagree.
There are two ways to get stronger in a fighting game.
The first is figuring out how to win with inferior stats. The second is grinding to raise your own stats.
Right now, I'm focused on the first approach.
My objective: beat
Paul is strong. As a father, he's still a work in progress, but as a swordsman, he's first-rate.
If I just focused on the second approach and trained my body honestly, sure, I'd eventually win.
I'm six years old. In ten years I'd be sixteen, and Paul would be thirty-five. In another five years I'd be twenty-one, and Paul would be forty.
Yeah, I could win eventually.
But that would be meaningless. Beating an aging opponent would just get me the response: "Ah well, I was past my prime by then."
The only thing that matters is taking him down at his peak.
Paul is currently twenty-five. He's apparently retired from the front lines, but physically he's in his prime.
I want to beat him at least once within the next five years. Ideally with pure swordsmanship.
But that seems impossible, so a close-quarters hybrid of swordsmanship and magic will have to do.
With that on my mind, I continued my mental sparring with imaginary Paul today.
---
Sitting under the tree, Sylph showed up with near-perfect timing.
"Sorry, did you wait long?" "Nah, I just got here."
And so we'd play, acting like a couple on a date.
In the beginning, that little punk Somar and his gaggle of brats would come bother us. Eventually some older elementary school kids joined in too, but I drove them all off every time.
Each time, Somar's mother would come storming to our house.
That's when I figured it out...
This woman didn't care about the kids' fight — she had a thing for Paul.
She was using the squabble as an excuse to come see him.
Ridiculous.
Even Somar himself seemed tired of being dragged to our doorstep over every little scratch.
He wasn't a trouble-seeker after all. Sorry for suspecting you, kid.
The ambushes happened maybe five times total. After one particular day, they stopped completely.
I'd occasionally spot them playing in the distance, and we'd pass each other now and then, but neither side said a word.
They'd apparently decided to ignore us.
And just like that, the whole incident was settled, and the tree on the hill became our turf.
---
Now, more important than brats — Sylph.
Under the guise of "playing," I'd been training him in magic.
If he learned magic, he'd be able to fend off those brats on his own.
In the beginning, Sylph would get winded after just five or six castings of basic magic.
But over the past year, his total mana capacity had grown considerably. He could now practice magic for most of the day without issue.
"There's a limit to total mana capacity."
How credible is that statement? Not very.
His magic itself still had a long way to go, though.
In particular, he was bad with fire.
Sylph handled wind and water magic with remarkable skill, but fire was another story.
Why?
Was it because of his quarter-elf blood?
No.
Specialties and weaknesses — the idea that every person has elements they excel at and elements they struggle with.
Literally, each person has elements they're naturally good at and ones they're not.
"Sylph, are you scared of fire?"
I once asked him.
"No."
He shook his head, but then showed me his palm.
There was an ugly burn scar on it.
Around age three, he'd grabbed the iron poker of a fireplace while his parents weren't looking.
"But I'm not scared anymore," he said.
But instinctively, he still flinched. That kind of experience influences your weakness element.
For example, the Dwarves often have water as their weakness element.
They live near mountains. From childhood they play in the dirt, and as they grow they follow their fathers into forging and mining. So fire and earth come naturally to them.
But working in the mountains, hot springs can suddenly erupt and scorch them, or heavy rains cause floods that nearly drown them. So water tends to become their weakness.
That's how it works. Race has nothing to do with it.
Incidentally, I have no weakness element.
I was raised in comfort, so I never developed one.
Even without fire magic, I could still produce warm air and hot water.
But explaining the concept would be a hassle, so I had him practice fire magic anyway.
Fire is always useful.
Salmonella dies when you heat it.
If you don't want to die of food poisoning, you have to cook your food properly.
Sylph struggled, but practiced without complaint.
Probably because it was his own idea to learn.
Holding my staff — the one Roxy gave me — and my magic textbook — the one I brought from home, he chanted incantations with a serious expression on his face.
Even as a guy, I had to admit he was beautiful.
He's going to be popular when he grows up.
*(Fatherly jealousy...)*
I thought I heard a voice from somewhere and shook my head in a hurry.
No, no.
Jealousy is pointless anyway.
More importantly, wasn't this my strategy?
The Handsome-Buddy-Baiting Plan.
Sylph's the hot one, I'm the ugly one, and girls love a contrast ♪
"Hey,
While I was singing in my head, Sylph pointed to a page in the magic textbook and looked up at me with those upturned eyes.
Those upturned eyes are a weapon too.
I almost grabbed him and kissed him right there.
I held back.
"It says 'Avalanche.' "
"What does it mean?"
"When an enormous amount of snow piles up on a mountain and it can't hold anymore, it comes crashing down. You know how in winter, snow sometimes slides off the roof in a big clump? It's like that, but way bigger."
"Wow, that's amazing. Have you ever seen one?"
"An avalanche? Of course I... haven't."
Only on TV.
I had Sylph read the magic textbook.
This also served as teaching him to read and write.
Literacy was worth picking up too.
I didn't know how high the literacy rate was in this world, but it certainly wasn't like modern Japan's near-100%.
There was no magic in this world that taught you to read.
The lower the literacy rate, the bigger an advantage reading would be.
"I did it!"
Sylph cried out in delight.
I looked — he'd successfully cast the intermediate water magic: "Icicle Pillar."
A thick pillar of ice rose from the ground, glinting and sparkling in the sunlight.
"You've gotten a lot better."
"Yeah! ...But this book doesn't have the one you used, Rudy."
Sylph tilted his head as he asked.
"Hmm?"
The one I used — he meant the hot water.
I flipped through the magic textbook and pointed to two entries with my finger.
"It's right here: Waterfall and Scalding Hands."
"...?"
"You use them at the same time."
"...??"
He tilted his head again.
"How do you chant two spells at once?"
Oops.
I'd been speaking from my own experience.
Right, you can't actually chant two things simultaneously with your mouth...
I'm in no position to make fun of Paul for being an instinct-based fighter after all.
"Um. You cast Scalding Hands without chanting, then cast Waterfall the normal way. Or you could fill a bucket with water first and heat it up afterward. Either way works."
I demonstrated.
Sylph watched with wide eyes.
Unchanted magic was indeed considered high-level technique in this world.
Roxy couldn't do it, and even at the Magic University, only one professor could.
So Sylph should probably stick with mixed magic rather than going full unchanted.
You could achieve similar results without doing anything too difficult.
That was what I thought.
"Teach me that," Sylph said.
"Teach you what?"
"The one where you don't use your mouth."
Sylph didn't see it that way.
Well, I guess casting two spells in one shot does look better than alternating between them.
Hmm.
Well, if I teach him and he can't manage it, he'll just settle for mixed magic on his own.
"Let's see. Okay — you know that feeling during incantation where mana gathers from throughout your body toward your fingertips? Try doing that without chanting. When you feel the mana gathering, picture the spell you want to cast and squeeze it out from your fingertips. Something like that. Start with water bullets."
Hmm, did that get across?
It's hard to explain something I do purely by feel.
Unchanted magic is something you do in your head.
Everyone would have a different method that works for them.
I'd been having Sylph practice with incantations for the past year because I believed fundamentals were important.
But the more you practiced incantations, the harder unchanted magic became.
It was like learning to use your left hand for something you'd always done with your right.
It might be tough to switch now.
"I did it! I did it, Rudy!"
Or so I thought — but apparently not.
Sylph cheerfully shouted and started firing off water bullets in rapid succession.
I say "incantation," but it was only a year's worth.
It was like taking the training wheels off a bicycle — apparently that's all it took.
Was it the sensitivity of youth?
Or Sylph's natural talent?
"Alright then. Try using all the spells you've learned so far without chanting."
"Okay!"
If he could cast unchanted magic, it'd be easier to teach him anyway.
I'd just be teaching him what I already did myself.
"Hmm?"
A few drops of rain began to fall.
I looked up — without my noticing, pitch-black rain clouds had blanketed the sky.
A moment later, rain came hammering down.
Usually I checked the sky before heading home and made sure it wouldn't rain until after we'd left, but today I'd gotten careless because Sylph had pulled off unchanted magic.
"Ugh, this rain is brutal."
"Rudy. You can make it rain, but can't you make it stop?"
"I can, but we're already soaked. And crops won't grow without rain."
Unless someone told me the bad weather was causing serious trouble, I wasn't going to mess with it.
While chatting like this, we ran back to the
Sylph's house was far away.
---
"I'm home."
"I-I'm intruding..."
When we entered, the maid Lillia was standing there with a large towel.
"Welcome home, Master Rudeus... and your friend."
I'll note: this is the same Lillia from the incident a year ago. The one Paul had an affair with.
She was also pregnant at the time. The baby, a girl named
The details were unclear, but apparently Lillia had begged to stay as a maid rather than be sent away, and Zenith, after much deliberation, had agreed on the condition that Paul never touched her again.
Whether Paul had actually kept that promise was another matter entirely.
Anyway — back to the scene.
"I have hot water ready. Please go upstairs and dry off before you catch cold."
"My master and mistress will be home soon, so I'm preparing things down here."
"Can you manage on your own?"
"We're fine."
Lillia had predicted I'd come back soaked from the downpour.
She was a woman of few words and didn't seek conversation, but she was an excellent maid.
Without being told anything, she took one look at Sylph's face, ducked back inside, and returned with another large towel.
We took off our shoes, dried our heads and feet, then headed upstairs.
When I entered my room, a large tub of hot water was already waiting.
In this world, there were no showers, and the culture of filling a bathtub didn't exist either.
According to Roxy, some races did bathe in hot springs, but...
Well, for someone like me who hated bathing, this setup was fine.
"Hmm?"
When I stripped down to nothing, Sylph was blushing and fidgeting.
"What's wrong? You'll catch cold if you don't take those off."
"Huh? Y-yeah..."
But Sylph didn't move.
Was he embarrassed about stripping in front of someone?
Oh wait — maybe he still couldn't undress by himself.
Come on, you're six years old already.
"Here, raise both arms."
"Um... okay..."
I lifted Sylph's arms and pulled the soaking wet shirt over his head in one smooth motion.
Pale, completely muscle-less skin was revealed.
When I reached for his pants, he grabbed my arm.
"N-no...!"
Embarrassed about being seen?
I was the same when I was little.
Back in kindergarten.
Before pool time, everyone stripped naked to shower, and being seen by kids my own age was inexplicably humiliating.
That said, Sylph's hands were cold.
If we didn't hurry, he really would catch a cold.
I forcibly pulled his pants down.
"S-stop it..."
When my hand reached the child-sized boxer shorts, I got whacked on the head.
I looked up. Sylph was teary-eyed and glaring at me.
"I'm not going to laugh."
"That's... that's not it... I d-don't want to...!"
It was a pretty serious rejection.
It was the first time Sylph had resisted me this intensely since we'd met.
A little stinging, honestly.
Was it a thing with elves? Some taboo against showing skin?
If so, forcing him was pretty terrible of me...
"Fine, fine. But you have to change into dry clothes after, okay? Wet underwear is nasty, and it'll give you a stomachache if it stays cold."
"Mmgh..."
When I let go, Sylph nodded repeatedly through his tears.
Cute.
I wanted to get even closer to this adorable kid.
And with that thought, a mischievous impulse suddenly sprouted inside me.
Besides, it's unfair if I'm the only one naked.
"Opening detected!"
I grabbed his underwear and yanked them down in one swift motion.
Behold! Zen○ Pendulum!
"Ee... eeeek!"
"...Huh?"
Sylph's scream.
He squatted down and covered himself in an instant.
In that instant, what I saw — or rather, what I didn't see—
It wasn't the pure short sword I'd grown accustomed to seeing lately. Of course, it wasn't some dark blade with ominous engravings either. What was there — no, what wasn't there—
Right... it wasn't there.
Something that should have been there wasn't.
Something I'd seen countless times in my previous life. On a computer monitor. Sometimes with a mosaic over it, sometimes uncensored.
I used to watch it, dreaming that one day I'd taste the real thing, shooting White Cannon into Paper Handkerchief...
But it was there.
Sylph was...
He... she... was a girl.
My mind went completely blank.
Had I just done something seriously unforgivable?
"Rudeus, what are you doing...?"
I spun around. Paul was standing there. When had he gotten home?
Had he heard the scream and come to this room?
I froze.
Paul froze too.
There was a naked, sobbing, squatting Sylph. In my naked hand, I held her underwear. And my cute baby boy—
He was young, vigorous, and unapologetically making his presence known.
There was no way to talk my way out of this.
The underwear slipped from my hand.
Despite the rain outside, I could swear the soft *plop* it made as it hit the floor was deafening.
---
[Paul's Perspective]
When I came home from work, my son was assaulting his childhood friend.
I was about to chew him out without a second thought—
But I held myself back. I'd be careful this time.
Maybe there were circumstances, like last time. I wouldn't repeat that mistake.
For now, I left the sobbing girl to my wife and Lillia, and had my son dry off.
"Why did you do something like that?"
"I'm sorry."
Last time I scolded him, the kid had shown a stubborn refusal to apologize.
This time, the apology came easily.
His whole demeanor was deflated. Like salt-rubbed spinach.
"I'm asking for a reason."
"She was wet. I was trying to take her clothes off..."
"But she didn't want you to, right?"
"Yes..."
"I told you to be gentle with girls, didn't I?"
"Yes... I'm sorry."
Rudeus didn't make a single excuse.
What was I like at his age?
It felt like I was always saying "but" and "because" and "it's not fair."
I was a world-class excuse-making brat.
My son was a far better person than I was.
"Well, at your age, you're going to be curious about these things."
"But you mustn't force yourself on anyone."
"...Yes. I'm sorry. I'll never do it again."
Seeing my son looking so utterly dejected made me feel guilty.
The womanizing was in my blood. I'd been hot-blooded since I was young — strong in body and desires. Whenever I saw a cute girl, I couldn't keep my hands to myself.
I'd calmed down somewhat now, but back in the day, I truly had no concept of restraint.
It must have been hereditary.
For such an intelligent son, this instinct must be a real source of inner conflict.
Why hadn't I noticed sooner...
No, this wasn't the moment for empathy.
I needed to show him, from experience, what to do.
"Don't apologize to me. Apologize to
"Sy-lphi-ette... Will she forgive me...?"
"Don't apologize expecting to be forgiven right away."
When I said that, my son looked even more downcast.
Come to think of it, he'd been obsessed with that girl from the very beginning.
That incident a year ago — he'd done it all to protect her.
And in return, he'd gotten punched by his own father.
Even after that, he'd played with her every single day, protected her from the other kids.
He'd trained hard in both swordsmanship and magic, yet still made time for her faithfully.
He'd even given away the staff and magic textbook he treasured most — just to get closer to her.
If he thought she might hate him now, of course he'd be depressed.
I'd been the same way when I was young.
Rejection hit hard.
But don't worry, son.
In my experience, you've still got plenty of room to turn this around.
"Hey, it's fine. If you haven't been bullying her all this time, and you apologize from the heart, she'll forgive you for sure."
At that, my son's face brightened slightly.
Smart kid.
He'd made a mistake this time, but he'd recover quickly.
In fact, he might even use this failure to his advantage and capture her heart for good.
Dependable and terrifying in equal measure.
"Sorry, Sylphie! Your hair was short, and I really did think you were a boy all this time!"
I'd thought my son was perfect, but he might actually be a bit dense.
It was the first time I'd thought that.
---
[Rudeus's Perspective]
After apologizing, praising, and coaxing, I somehow got her to forgive me.
Sylph turned out to be a girl, so I decided to call her Sylphie from now on.
Incidentally, her real name was apparently Sylphiette.
Paul was exasperated that I'd mistaken such a cute girl for a boy, and asked what kind of eyes I had.
Look, I didn't exactly plan on doing the "You were a girl the whole time?!" routine for real.
It can't be helped.
When we first met, her hair was shorter than mine.
Not pixie-cut stylish short, but not buzz-cut short either — somewhere in between.
Her clothes were never particularly feminine either.
A light-colored shirt and pants. That was it.
If she'd been wearing a skirt, even I wouldn't have made the mistake.
No... thinking about it calmly, I wouldn't have.
She was bullied for her hair color.
So she cut it short to avoid standing out.
If you're bullied, you need to run away.
So she wore pants instead of a skirt.
Sylph's family wasn't particularly well-off.
So if she only had one pair of pants, there was no room in the budget for a skirt.
If we'd met three years later, even I wouldn't have been fooled.
I'd just assumed she was a cute boy because of my preconceptions — she wasn't particularly androgynous.
If she were... no, forget it.
No matter what I said, it would sound like an excuse.
Now that I knew she was a girl, my whole attitude changed.
Seeing Sylphie dressed in boyish clothes gave me a strange feeling.
"Sy-Sylphie is really cute, so maybe you should grow your hair out longer?"
"Huh...?"
If I was going to start over, it'd be easier to reset if her appearance changed too.
That was my thinking behind the suggestion.
Sylphie didn't like her hair.
But that emerald-green hair, when kissed by sunlight, shone with an almost translucent brilliance.
I really wanted her to grow it out.
And if possible, put it in twin tails or a ponytail.
"No way..."
But ever since that day, Sylphie had become wary of me.
She especially avoided physical contact with me openly.
She'd been so easygoing and agreeable before. It was a little jarring.
"Okay then. Want to practice unchanted magic again today?"
"Yeah."
She masked her true feelings, fixing up her expression.
Since Sylphie had no friends besides me, we ended up hanging out together regardless.
There was still some lingering awkwardness, but she was willing to play.
For now, that was good enough.
---
My current skills, measured by this world's standards:
===============
Swordsmanship Sword God Style: Beginner Water God Style: Beginner
Attack Magic Fire: Advanced Water: Saint-tier Wind: Advanced Earth: Advanced
Healing Magic Restoration: Intermediate Detoxification: Beginner
===============
Incidentally, I couldn't use Summoning magic.
Healing magic was also divided into seven ranks, and consisted of four schools: Restoration, Barriers, Detoxification, and Divine Strike.
Unlike attack magic, though, there were no cool names like "Fire Saint" or "Water Saint."
You'd be called a Saint-tier Restoration Healer, Saint-tier Detoxification Healer, and so on.
Restoration was, literally, magic that healed wounds. At first, mending cuts was about all I could manage, but at the Emperor tier, you could apparently regrow a lost arm. Even so, at the God tier, you still couldn't bring the dead back to life.
Detoxification was also exactly what it sounded like — healing poisons and diseases. At higher tiers, you could supposedly create poisons and antidotes as well. Status-effect magic was Saint tier and above — quite difficult.
Barriers boosted defensive power and created wards. Simply put, they were support magic. I wasn't sure of the details, but I believed they worked by raising metabolism to heal minor wounds, or by producing brain chemicals to numb pain. Roxy couldn't use them.
Divine Strike was apparently effective against ghost-type monsters and evil demon races, but it was a closely guarded technique of human priest-warriors. Even the Magic University didn't teach it, and Roxy didn't know it either.
I'd never seen a ghost, but apparently they existed in this world.
Without understanding the underlying principles, you couldn't use unchanted magic, which was inconvenient.
Actually, the fact that attack magic had science-like principles at all was something — I had no idea whether other types of magic had underlying principles too.
I could tell that mana was some kind of universal element.
But what transformations it could undergo and what effects they produced — that I didn't know.
For example, psychokinesis — moving distant objects or pulling them toward you.
I could probably reproduce that, but having never been a psychic in my previous life, I had no idea how.
Incidentally, I only had a vague memory of the healing process.
Which was why I couldn't do healing magic unchanted.
If I'd had medical knowledge, I might have been able to.
If I'd had other expertise, I could have reproduced various things with magic.
If I'd been into sports, maybe my swordsmanship would have improved more.
Thinking about it, what a colossal waste of time my previous life had been.
No — not a waste.
Sure, I never worked or went to school.
But I hadn't been hibernating the entire time.
I'd dabbled in every game and hobby under the sun.
While other people were busy studying and working, I'd been doing that.
That gaming knowledge, experience, and way of thinking — it would be useful in this world too.
It should be...!
Well, it wasn't proving useful right now, but still.
---
"Haah..."
I let out a sigh before I could stop myself.
"What's wrong, Rudy?"
Paul asked.
We were in the middle of sword training.
I'd probably get scolded for such an obvious sigh.
But Paul just grinned.
"Oh-ho-ho. Let me guess.
You're upset because Sylphiette is giving you the cold shoulder?"
That sigh wasn't about that.
Well, it wasn't — but Sylphie was definitely one of my worries.
"Yeah, well. My swordsmanship isn't going anywhere, Sylphie's mad at me, so yeah, sighing seems about right."
Paul grinned and stabbed his wooden sword into the ground.
He leaned against it, lowering his gaze.
Please don't tell me he's about to make fun of me...
"Your old man could give you some advice, if you want."
Surprising words.
I thought about it.
Father — Paul — was popular with women.
Zenith was undeniably beautiful, and there was the whole Eto's-wife affair.
Even Lillia didn't seem entirely displeased when Paul got handsy.
There had to be some secret to being liked by women.
The path to being a ladies' man.
He was instinct-based, so he probably couldn't articulate it well, but it might still be worth hearing.
"Please."
"Hmm, let me think..."
"Should I kiss your shoes or something?"
"Whoa, you got real humble all of a sudden."
"If you won't tell me, I'll report to Mom that you were making eyes at Lillia."
"Now you're being frighteningly high-handed... Wait — you saw that?!"
Fine, fine. My bad for being dramatic.
Making eyes at Lillia — I'd been bluffing with that one.
But wait: was it true? Had Paul actually...?
Oh well.
It just proved the man was popular.
Time for the masterclass from Mr. Ladies' Man himself.
"Listen, Rudy. Women..."
"Yes."
"They like a man's strong side, but they also like his weak side."
"Interesting."
I'd heard something like this before.
Something about the maternal instinct, right?
"Do you think you've only been showing Sylphiette your strong side?"
"Maybe... I'm not really sure."
"Think about it. If someone clearly stronger than you came at you with their desires exposed, what would you think?"
"That would be scary."
"Right?"
He was talking about that day.
The day she became a girl in my eyes.
"So you show her your weak side too. You protect her with your strength, and you let her protect your weakness. That's the kind of relationship you build."
"Oh!"
Crystal clear!
This from Paul the instinct-based fighter?
Strength alone wasn't enough. Weakness alone wasn't enough.
But having both — that's what made you irresistible!
"But how do I show my weak side?"
"That's easy.
You're worried about something right now, aren't you?"
"Yeah."
"Stop hiding it.
In front of Sylphiette, be obviously upset.
'I'm struggling. I'm down because you're avoiding me.' Like that."
"And then what happens?"
Paul gave a sly grin.
A dangerous grin.
"Best case, she comes to you.
Maybe she'll comfort you.
Then you feel better. And when the other person feels better because you reconciled, nobody stays unhappy about that."
"!"
Of course.
Controlling the other person's feelings through your own behavior...
That's... impressive.
But there was no guarantee it would go according to plan, right?
"Wh-what if it doesn't work?"
"Then come ask me again. I'll teach you the next move."
There was a second move?
This man was a strategist. A born schemer!
"R-right, I'll go right now!"
"Go, go."
Paul waved his hand lazily.
I couldn't sit still and took off running.
"What am I teaching a six-year-old..."
I thought I heard him mutter that from behind me.
---
I reached the tree on the tree.
But I was obviously way too early — Sylphie wasn't there yet.
Come to think of it, I hadn't eaten lunch either.
I'd brought my wooden sword, as usual, but since I normally came after drying off, I was still drenched in sweat.
What now.
Nothing to be done about it.
Times like these called for mental practice.
I swung the wooden sword, running through simulations.
I'd shown my strength. Next: show my weakness.
Weakness. How was I supposed to do that again?
Right — I had to show her that I was down.
How?
What was the timing?
Should I just do it out of nowhere?
That would be weird.
It had to come up naturally in conversation.
Could I pull it off? Yeah, of course I could.
If she said this, I'd respond like that. If she did that, I'd do this.
While turning these thoughts over and swinging the wooden sword, my grip strength gave out before I noticed, and the sword slipped from my hands.
"Ugh..."
The sword rolled to a stop right at Sylphie's feet.
My mind went blank.
Wh-what do I say?
"Wh-what's wrong, Rudy...?"
Sylphie looked up at me, her eyes round.
What was wrong? It was because I'd gotten here way too early, that's what.
"Nn... phew... hmph... I was just disappointed I couldn't see Sylphie's cute face sooner..."
"N-no, not that — your sweat."
"Hah... hah... ah, sweat? What about..."
I approached, panting heavily, and she stepped back with a startled expression.
Same as always — she wouldn't let me within a certain distance.
I was this attracted to her, and she kept this far away.
Just kidding.
"..."
Sweat dripped from my forehead.
Now.
Was this the moment?
My breathing had steadied.
Alright.
I leaned against the tree with my hand, striking a posture of deep self-reflection.
Shoulders slumped, a heavy sigh.
"Haah... Sylphie's been really cold to me lately..."
Silence followed.
Was this right? Was this right, Paul?
Should I look more pathetic?
Or was it too forced?
"!"
A small hand grabbed mine from behind.
Warm and soft — I turned around and there was Sylphie.
W-wow!
She was this close!
Sylphie was close to me again!
Paul! I did it!
"Well... you've been acting kinda weird lately, Rudy..."
Her words brought me back to reality.
Yeah.
I knew that.
Without being told,
I hadn't been acting the same way as before.
From Sylphie's perspective, it must have been a complete 180.
Like a woman who suddenly changes her tune the moment she finds out a guy is secretly wealthy.
Of course she wouldn't feel good about it.
But then — how should I have been acting?
The same as before? That was clearly impossible now.
How could I not be nervous around someone this cute?
A young, same-age, adorable girl.
I had no idea how to befriend someone like this.
If I were an adult dealing with her, or if Sylphie were a bit more developed...
Then I could have deployed every piece of knowledge from every eroge I'd ever played.
If she were a guy, I could have drawn on my experience from when my little brother was young.
But she was a girl my own age, and she was... well, a girl.
Sure, I'd played games where you built relationships with girls this young.
But those were fantasies.
And besides, that wasn't the kind of relationship I wanted.
Sylphie was still too young.
Not within my range.
For now, at least.
Future prospects, however, were looking promising!
But I digressed.
She'd been bullied.
When I was being bullied, I'd had no one on my side.
So I wanted to be on her side.
Boy or girl.
That part didn't change.
But even so, acting the same way was hard.
I was a guy, and I wanted to build a good relationship with a cute girl.
For the future!
...I didn't know.
What was I supposed to do?
I should've asked him that part too...
"...I'm sorry, but I don't hate you, Rudy."
"Sy-Sylphie..."
Seeing my pathetic expression, Sylphie patted me on the head.
A warmth spread through my chest.
I was clearly in the wrong, yet she was the one apologizing.
"So... just act normal, okay?"
That upturned gaze of hers was lethal.
It held enough power to steel my resolve.
And I made my decision.
That's right.
She just wanted normal.
The same relationship as before.
So I would act as normal as possible.
Without scaring her, without flustering her,
I would hide my masculine side and just be... normal.
In other words — that thing.
I just needed to become that thing.
Yeah.
I'd become it.
I'd become the dense, oblivious protagonist.