“Stay away from women. Trust me—I’m on my fifth divorce; I know what I’m talking about.”

When Ziel heard this advice five years ago, his first thought was, Of all people, why should I trust the words of someone on their fifth divorce? He even said it aloud, which earned him five times the usual grueling training as punishment.

Yet, as a fourteen-year-old boy, his master’s words carried weight. So, even while thinking, There he goes again, spouting his bizarre biases as if they’re universal truths, Ziel kept his distance from women. He grumbled about it openly but still avoided romantic entanglements.

Avoiding them had worked—until now.

After three months wandering this sunless labyrinth alone, filthy and pushed to his limits, he encountered a kind and approachable woman. Living together with her for a month, just the two of them, made it impossible to remain unaffected.

Without realizing it, he found himself thinking, Wow... I might really like her.

This had never happened before.

Back when his master injured his back after slaying the venomous dragon three years ago, Ziel had always been under his watchful eye. The man would leave on “hot spring pilgrimages,” telling Ziel to “find a spectacle shop or something and take a walk,” but Ziel wasn’t truly on his own until then. Under such supervision, Ziel didn’t have the chance to grow close to anyone. Most people treated him merely as “that man’s disciple,” leaving no room for deeper connections.

After setting out on his solo journey, things didn’t change much. His reputation as a young hero who slew a dragon preceded him, attracting attention to his name rather than himself. Moving from place to place without settling down meant he had no time for meaningful connections.

If anything, he’d forged some camaraderie with one or two bold girls who’d challenged him with lines like, “This brat killed a dragon? Let’s see if that’s true!” But even those friendships were built on sweat and tears, with no room for anything more.

Simply put, he’d never had the opportunity.

But now, the opportunity had arrived.

And now, Ziel found himself suffering, his heart squeezed painfully every time the kind woman held his hand after meals. He was dying in a very age-appropriate way.

“Calm down. Focus...!”

Ziel exhaled sharply, a steady stream of breath escaping his lips.

Their current base, a safe zone, had been sanctified with holy magic by Lililia. This makeshift sanctuary functioned similarly to a church in a town—weak monsters couldn’t enter its perimeter. Of course, “weak” in this labyrinth was a relative term, but the fact that such a space could exist was a testament to Lililia’s incredible abilities.

Here, at least, Ziel could meditate in peace, free from monster attacks.

He couldn’t let himself think like this, he decided.

After all, they were alone together. This wasn’t the same as meeting someone in town.

Lililia might seem like an exceptional cleric, but in a one-on-one fight, a swordsman skilled in close combat would likely have the upper hand. You might wonder why someone preoccupied with thoughts of love was connecting this to combat, but Ziel’s endlessly overanalyzing mind found the connection perfectly logical.

If someone stronger than him expressed romantic feelings, wouldn’t it be unsettling? Ziel worried about that.

It would feel horrible, wouldn’t it? If their positions were reversed, Ziel thought he’d feel trapped—forced into a choice, even if it wasn’t deliberate.

Even if this was just his imagination, the mere thought that Lililia might feel the same way was enough to make him reject the idea entirely.

He preferred fair play. He liked the idea of being honorable.

Which was why Ziel was desperately trying to meditate. To confess his feelings now, in this labyrinth, would be exploiting the situation—a cowardly move, in his opinion. He resolved to suppress his feelings, wait until they were out of the labyrinth, and then spend a year exchanging letters before gradually hinting at his feelings.

He focused his mind deeply, channeling his internal energy, sharpening it like a blade, and circulating it evenly throughout his body.

“Wait a second,” he thought suddenly.

Lililia might be eighty years old.

The thought occurred to him out of nowhere, and once it did, it became impossible to dismiss. Could someone so skilled in holy magic still be young? Ziel recalled thinking the same thing after witnessing her defeat a giant horse-like beast. Clerics, he’d heard, often reached their peak in old age.

Besides, her face was still oddly indistinct in his mind. It was entirely plausible.

Lililia was just a cheerful, warmhearted elderly woman with a charming voice, a sweet demeanor, soft hands, and an unusually pleasant scent.

That was the truth, Ziel concluded.

“Ah, I see now. That explains it—”

“What explains it?”

A voice interrupted him.

“Whoa!?”

“Rude much? Yelling at a lady like that,” Lililia said.

“Oh, sorry...”

The only other person in the labyrinth capable of speech, of course, was Lililia herself. She had somehow appeared beside him without him noticing. She smelled wonderful, Ziel thought.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Ziel scrambled to respond. “Uh, well, nothing—”

“Don’t you think it’s gotten colder lately?” she interrupted.

Now that she mentioned it, Ziel noticed the chill. It had been summer when they arrived, but months had passed, and the season must have shifted.

Interpreting her words as a sign of discomfort, Ziel removed his jacket.

“Here, take this,” he said, draping it over what he assumed was her shoulder.

“What? But—”

“I can handle the cold. Please, use it if you’re feeling chilly.”

He muttered to himself, She’s an elderly woman, after all, and tried not to think too much about it.

A long silence followed. Ziel worried he’d done something wrong.

He was about to ask when Lililia suddenly laughed softly. “You think I’m a bit pushy, don’t you?”

“No, not at all!”

“Relax. I just came to cast a warming spell for you. Sometimes, someone will touch you.”

Light radiated gently from her hands, filling him with warmth.

“That should last about ten hours. Don’t stay up too late,” she said.

“Um, wait—” Ziel stammered.

“Hmm?”

“When you cast that spell just now... you didn’t touch me.”

“Hmm? Oh, I’ve practiced enough that I don’t need to.”

Ziel froze, unable to respond.

“Good night!” she called, walking away.

“Good night,” he replied weakly, collapsing to the ground.

“Then why does she always hold my hand after meals!?” he groaned.

He could ask her. Maybe some spells required touch. But what if they didn’t?

What if they didn’t, and she—

“Even if she’s eighty years old...!”

Ziel never noticed that his jacket remained draped over Lililia’s shoulders, and it would stay there for the rest of their time in the labyrinth.

Their adventure together was far from over.