I thought I was prepared.

No matter what was said, I had resolved not to let my emotions show. I didn’t want Ziel to find out about the selfish feelings I carried.

That’s what I had thought, but—

“Eh—?”

It was too much.

Far too unexpected—so much so that I couldn’t help but let my confusion slip out.

“I mean… Klaha, you’re amazing. You’re incredibly efficient as a supporter, and since we started traveling, this is the first time I’ve been able to live something close to a normal life. I’ll say it again—thank you.”

Deeply.

He even bowed his head.

I had no response.

Because I never imagined I would hear something like that… Even now, I couldn’t allow myself such an impossibly convenient dream.

And yet, right now, the person in front of me was saying something that sounded exactly like that dream.

“Um, Ziel-san…”

“Hm?”

“Uh, um…”

I couldn’t put it into words.

I didn’t even know what I was trying to say.

That’s not true. I haven’t accomplished anything. I’m incompetent and only cause trouble. Spare me the flattery. Spare me the consolation. I don’t need your concern—such thoughts swirled inside me, dark and tangled.

But the words Ziel spoke were so straightforward.

Why was it that his words made even my own feelings—my own deeply held beliefs—seem like lies or mere self-deception?

Several seconds passed without me being able to say anything.

Then Ziel continued.

“You might not like being compared to me, but…”

“Just say it.”

At the moment he hesitated, Chikano elbowed him in the ribs.

“Quit that,” he grumbled, but he accepted it regardless.

“Klaha, you can do a lot of things I can’t. Watching you sometimes… honestly, I feel jealous.”

“…That’s…”

I almost instinctively replied, “It’s nothing special. Anyone could do it.”

But I stopped myself.

Because that would be cruel. If Ziel himself admitted he couldn’t do something, it wasn’t right to dismiss it as something anyone could do.

So then, where should these feelings go?

“You’re good at handling situations, and you have strong judgment. Even in this case, I think you did exactly what needed to be done in the moment. So, there’s not much for me to be angry at. I don’t think I’m even in a position to scold you.”

“Uh, hey… Ziel-senpai.”

In a small, hoarse voice, still carrying the traces of tears—

Icca spoke.

After glancing at me for a moment, he carefully turned toward Ziel and hesitantly said:

“That kind of sounds like you don’t care about Klaha at all…”

“What!? No, that’s not it at all…”

“No, that’s exactly what it sounds like.”

“You should scold her properly.”

Chikano picked up where Icca left off.

“That’s way too cold. And… I know it’s a terrible thought, but what if Klaha died? Would you just go, ‘Oh, she died as a result of her own decisions,’ and leave it at that?”

“No, of course not, but… she didn’t do anything wrong.”

“She fought hard, after all,” Ziel said, furrowing his brows.

Then, unexpectedly, Chikano turned to me.

“Klaha, what do you think?”

“Eh?”

“You bowed your head earlier, didn’t you? That means you thought you did something wrong, right?”

“Stop that—”

“Shut it. This is part of the conversation. …So, Klaha? What do you think you did wrong, and what kind of reprimand… no,”

Chikano shook her head.

“What kind of concern were you hoping to be shown?”

“I… I—”

I shouldn’t say it.

But at the same time, maybe I should.

My thoughts were a mess.

This unexpected turn of events—being confronted with it so suddenly—was shaking the foundation of how I saw myself.

Because… I—

“I have… low ability.”

The words I had kept hidden slipped out.

Once they did, I couldn’t stop them.

“I barely accomplish anything. I keep losing. I’m pathetic—”

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait.”

Ziel’s voice, flustered.

I couldn’t even lift my head—I was afraid my face would betray my tears.

“…Who are you talking about? Me?”

“I’m talking about myself,” I managed to say, barely keeping my voice from trembling.

There was a loud scuffle.

“What the hell did you say to your disciple!?”

“Nothing! I never said anything like that—not even once, I think!?”

“…Klaha-san, is this my fault?”

Between the exchange of voices—

Icca quietly asked me.

“Because back then, I…”

“No, it’s not.”

It wasn’t.

Ah, I shouldn’t have said anything. Just because of a fleeting glimpse into my feelings, I had burdened Icca’s heart…

Klaha thought that.

“It’s more of… a general thing…”

From the bag beside me—

I pulled out the proof.

“The List of Failures.”

I placed the thick document on the table.

“It’s not just one thing. It’s many, many—”

“Stop it.”

Firmly.

Chikano’s voice cut through.

“I know I might not be the right person to say this, but… stop it. Doing this only hurts you.”

“Klaha-san… have you always kept something like this?”

Icca’s voice was the only one I could manage to nod to.

And as for Chikano—I was still searching for the right words to say to her.

“...Would you mind if I read what's inside?”

Ziel said that.

“Ah, no, I mean... If it’s a private notebook and you don’t want to show anyone, that’s totally—”

“It’s okay.”

There was a slight pause.

Then came Chikano’s voice, as if saying, "You said you'd read it yourself," followed by a dull thud.

After that, the sound of pages flipping—paper brushing against paper.

As Klaha listened, she thought to herself:

He's going to be disappointed.

Just a moment ago—

Even if it was just out of politeness, he had praised her.

And yet—

“...This is from partway through, isn’t it? When did you start writing it?”

“...From the second month after I became an adventurer. The earlier ones are back in my room…”

“I see. Do you write in it every day?”

“I write whenever I do something wrong, so… as a result, yes.”

“I see,” he said gently.

But as he flipped through—one page, then another—

Her flaws, her failures,

How hopeless of a person she was,

All of it was being laid bare.

She wanted to run away.

To escape from it all.

Her legs and head tingled from tension, a haze creeping into her vision, making her feel as though her tear ducts were malfunctioning.

Then—

With a soft sound, Ziel closed the notebook.

“...I’m sorry. I really didn’t understand you at all, Klaha.”

“—”

The words she had feared came.

“I said earlier that I had no reason to be angry. I take that back. I do. Very clearly.”

“...Okay.”

Being scolded by a kind person—

Being disappointed in—

Was terrifying.

Because there was no escape.

Because it was entirely her own doing, entirely her own fault.

And yet, she clenched her fists tightly in her lap.

Because this was something she had to hear.

“You are unfairly undervaluing yourself.

I don’t think that’s something you should do.”

She couldn’t unclench her fists right away.

She understood what he was saying, but…

It didn’t feel real.

What had just been said to her—

She had no idea how she was supposed to feel about it.

“Like I said before, I respect what you did this time. Chikano says, ‘Do you not care if you die?’ But the courage to stand up and not abandon Icca in that moment—that is something that should be respected as your own will. …But,”

Because it seemed absurd.

There was no room for misunderstanding anymore.

Even if Ziel had just coincidentally failed to notice her flaws until now—

She had just laid them all bare herself.

So then, these words—

Why?

“If you’re just underestimating your own worth and treating yourself lightly… Forget master and disciple. Even as just a fellow traveler, I think that’s wrong.”

“…It’s not that I’m being unfair…”

Just pleasantries, empty flattery, polite lies—

If that were all it was, she could dismiss it.

But Ziel’s voice carried a strange weight.

“Then, Klaha, how many ‘good things’ about yourself can you think of?”

“Eh—”

The question came from an unexpected angle.

She couldn’t answer.

Not just because she was confused.

But because, perhaps, from the start—

“You list out only your flaws. And yet, you don’t acknowledge a single one of your good points. …How you perceive yourself is ultimately your choice. But I think your current perspective is simply an error in judgment.”

“But I don’t have any ‘good points’—”

“You do. Right now, I could name a hundred, two hundred if you want.”

Ziel started counting on his fingers.

“You have a good sense of direction. You handle the details of travel well. You’re skilled at maintaining distance in a fight. You can move while understanding the layout of the battlefield. And… well, saying ‘you help when I’m in trouble’ might be a bit selfish of me, but still.”

She couldn’t speak.

Her mind knew she needed to say something—

But her heart wouldn’t move.

Logic told her, as always, to face her faults.

“Honestly, I don’t think other people should interfere with this kind of thing too much. Especially someone like me—I don’t want to impose an image on you. That would be altering the self-image you’ve formed over time. But you—”

Suddenly, he stopped.

Then Ziel stood up, walked around the table, and knelt beside her.

“…Klaha, can you stand up right now?”

“…Eh?”

“Can you stand up quickly?”

She tried to move her legs.

“Ah—”

“See?”

She nearly collapsed, but Ziel caught her by the shoulders.

“Your legs are numb. You were kneeling the whole time… enduring it.”

She had thought it was just an illusion.

That the trembling in her legs was just from emotional distress.

But—

She hadn’t realized until Ziel pointed it out.

“You need to pay more attention to yourself. …Considering the environment you’ve been in, and the personality you’ve developed there, I know it won’t be easy to change right away, but…”

She pressed her hands against the tatami mat.

With Ziel’s help, she slowly eased her numb legs.

She gripped his arm tightly for support.

At last, she was able to lift her face.

And she heard him say—

“If the way you think is hurting you, then little by little,

I want you to change.

…If you’re okay with it, I’ll be here to support you.”

The pure white morning sun shone on Ziel’s cheek.

Klaha thought—

He’s like someone from a dream.