“...Where?”

That was the response to my complaint that I felt like I was being avoided.

It was the middle of a summer day. And not just anywhere—the southernmost edge of a southern country. In other words, the part of the world where summer was at its peak—around the time when a certain group of eight had ventured into the unexplored great jungle two or three times and returned just as many.

The sun knew it was the main character of the season.

It poured down enough heat to keep the world’s water boiling for the next ten years.

The trees took it as an opportunity, stretching their branches and leaves skyward, constructing towering green spires.

Countless insects and small creatures made their homes there, chirping and leaping in celebration.

The sea breeze, if it had come during the winter, would have been a blessing—so cherished that one might want to carry it home and carefully spread it over their bed. But in the summer, it wasn’t quite so beloved. Instead, it roamed the sky freely, sweeping away any clouds that dared to overshadow the sun.

There was a building.

A simple, square box, clad in a desperate white in an attempt to reflect the sun’s heat. Yet, in the end, it succumbed to sunburn and the shimmering green of the surrounding forest.

Inside one of its rooms, two young men were present.

“You don’t get it?”

“Nope. Do you even realize how hard it was for me to find a moment when you were wandering around alone?”

“If we’re saying that, then I was trying just as hard to find a time when you were alone, Dewey.”

“You should’ve just called out to me. It’s not like I had anything better to do.”

With an expression as if he had willingly caught the words he threw like a boomerang right in his own face, the young man’s name was Dewey.

And the one who neither threw the boomerang back nor even dodged it, instead accepting it directly and muttering, “Fair point,” was Ziel.

The room was bathed in midsummer light, almost blindingly bright.

Ziel sat in the center of the room, surrounded by stacked boxes and luggage, while Dewey paced around the edges. A summer-filled room.

Overpowering the sound of summer insects and the whisper of the sea, Ziel spoke.

“But, thanks. I appreciate you reaching out first. I wasn’t sure when you’d be free, so it was hard to approach you.”

“No problem, no problem. Ah, sorry about the shop being closed.”

“Don’t worry about that. It must have been tough, right? Taking care of a... a baby at home.”

“Did you just call a baby ‘a baby’?”

“Uh... yeah. It just came out. What’s the right way to say it?”

“You could say ‘baby’ or ‘infant’ or something.”

“What did you call it at home?”

“Baby, my honey.”

“Liar.”

“Yeah, I’m lying.”

Dewey laughed as he rummaged through a box, seated in front of it after flipping the lid open.

“Well, yeah, it was kind of rough, but my parents had it way worse. I wasn’t really struggling. Actually, I heard some stuff about you too. Rumors.”

“Like what?”

“Uh, hold on. Let me think of something interesting.”

“That setup doesn’t inspire much confidence.”

Of course, it didn’t. In the end, Dewey just relayed what he knew in a perfectly ordinary manner.

“I heard you crushed the resurrected Ruin King with sheer brute strength.”

“That story got wildly exaggerated…”

“And that you navigated a ridiculously dangerous labyrinth completely by touch.”

“That one’s about half true.”

“So it’s true?” Dewey let out a dry laugh. Then he made an “Oh,” face as he reached deeper into the box, his fingers searching around while he stared up at the ceiling. Ziel asked if he was sure he was handling his materials properly, and Dewey just kept laughing dryly.

“Got it.” Dewey stood up and walked over.

“Lemme borrow this for a sec.”

He reached for Ziel’s glasses. Ziel simply closed his eyes.

“So, what were you saying? Two of the three people who cleared that labyrinth together…”

“I was just wondering if I’m being avoided.”

“You and I might have very different definitions of ‘being avoided.’ …This isn’t good.”

“What?”

“I forgot how to make it.”

Ziel opened his eyes with a sharp look.

“You’re joking, right?”

But as he expected, Dewey was grinning.

However—

“…Wait, you’re serious?”

“Yeah, dead serious. It was way too complicated to remember. I just brute-forced it through trial and error. The only thing I remember is that I got irrationally pissed off when the lenses suddenly started working just by shaving down the nose pads a little.”

“I remember that too.”

There wasn’t the slightest trace of a joke in Dewey’s expression. Something kept moving in Ziel’s blurred vision—probably Dewey tilting and turning the glasses, examining them from all angles.

The sight brought back memories for Ziel—memories that felt like they belonged to a distant past.

Glasses that had become an inseparable part of him.

The months he had spent with Dewey, gathering rare and not-so-rare materials, when no mage or priest could explain the nature of the curse.

“We’ll just have to make a ton and see what works!”

They had stacked Dewey’s shop full of odd, foul-smelling monster parts. Ziel had asked what he planned to do with them, and Dewey had simply replied, “We’ll try every possible design and material. No other choice.”

At one point, Ziel had even thought breaking the curse might be faster than crafting glasses to counteract it.

And then—

Seeing Dewey’s face clearly for the first time through the finished lenses.

Raising both hands in victory, only for their high-five to miss because Dewey had shouted, “This makes no sense! There’s no satisfaction in this!”

Even now, people still reacted with disbelief that the curse had been broken.

Meaning, in some inexplicable way, Dewey had done something incredible.

“You kept the blueprints, right?”

“I threw them away.”

“What?”

“…Kidding. I just didn’t keep track of the final adjustments properly. I have the base model, see?”

He held up a sheet of paper.

“But after that, it was just endless tinkering until it worked. I thought touching them again would jog my memory, but…”

“But it didn’t.”

“All that effort, and time still erases it. Scary, huh?”

With a sigh, Dewey sat down across from Ziel.

“I’ll make something similar, then tweak it from there. Should be done by the time we finish this investigation. No way you’re planning to break your glasses again, right?”

“I should hope not. Oh, actually—”

“Hm?”

“Sorry. After you went through all that trouble, I broke them so easily.”

Dewey’s movements froze.

Then—

“Close your eyes for a second.”

Ziel obeyed.

“Don’t move your head.”

“Got it.”

He felt something settle over his ears.

When he opened his eyes—

“Don’t worry about it. It’s way better for things to break than people.”

Dewey’s gentle smile was visible through the lenses.

The craftsman before him, possessing incredible skill, had taken the incident with the dragon slaying as a debt of gratitude. And with that debt as a starting point, he nurtured a small yet genuine friendship, pouring immense effort and countless hours into creating it.

Even Dewey himself, who had made it, didn't fully understand the curse-breaking glasses.

It was much like how Ziel himself—who had been cursed—had no idea where or how the curse affected him.

And so, Ziel made up his mind.

He figured he was the one who should decide on this course of action.

"If that's the case—"

"Excuse me. May I come in?"

A voice interrupted midway.

From outside the room, there was a polite knock on the door. Dewey casually responded, "Yeah, sure," and with equal politeness, the door was opened.

A man with silver hair, standing with impeccable posture.

Roylen entered the room, sweat beading on his forehead, yet maintaining a clean and composed appearance.

"I just need to grab a sample… Oh, Ziel. Pardon the intrusion."

"No, not at all. You look hot."

"Yes, I was working on the outdoor planters. It's nice, this room—so cool."

Roylen lifted his face, his bangs swaying slightly in the breeze. Ziel agreed.

Each room in the research facility was kept at a pleasantly cool temperature, thanks to the efforts of some exceptional mages. It was remarkable. Ziel couldn't help but feel grateful, deepening his respect for both the magic itself and those who wielded it. However, the day before an expedition, he always felt a pang of sadness. Knowing fulfillment makes one aware of what they once lacked. Such things happen.

"Perfect timing," Dewey remarked.

"Let's ask now. How long do you think the investigation here will take?"

"…You're asking that now?"

"I am."

"…Do you really want me to lower my head that much, Ziel?"

"Huh?" Ziel lifted himself slightly off his seat.

Perhaps noticing his flustered reaction, Roylen refrained from actually bowing but still said, "I’m sorry."

"Honestly, I have no estimate at all."

"Huh. Really?"

"Seriously? But you've gathered quite a bit of data, haven't you?"

Ziel had no idea. He was merely following them like a hunting dog.

"That’s true," Roylen admitted, folding his arms, lending some credibility to Dewey’s observation.

"However, we still haven't been able to pinpoint the exact source of the 'tremors.' The mages have been formulating various hypotheses, but each one requires us to dive in again to test them. We've been setting up instruments in areas we anticipate needing future data from, but…"

"Because of the terrain shifts, data collection doesn't last long, huh?"

"Sharp observation," Roylen said with a sigh.

Ziel had no intention of blaming them (after all, this was completely out of his domain, and he held immense respect for magic and those who wielded it). Dewey simply let out a neutral "Huh" while crossing his legs on his chair.

"So, what? You're just gonna keep making guesses and hoping to get lucky?"

"Yes. For now."

"For now?"

"There's still a chance we might come up with a groundbreaking solution. We have a once-in-a-generation genius mage and a master of all things magic who trained them, after all."

"Ah, right, right. So if no inspiration strikes, you'll just be waiting here forever, hoping to get lucky?"

"That would be a problem, so we'd like to avoid that."

"In that case," Dewey said, shifting his gaze from Roylen to Ziel, "should we follow the current model until we finish, and if there's time left, try something else?"

"Yeah, let’s go with that. Thanks, as always."

"No problem. Thanks to you, I get my hands on enough magical beast materials to last a lifetime for free. Much appreciated."

"Really? As long as it's a fair trade, that's good."

"What are you talking about?"

"That this guy is being avoided by Uni."

"Huh?" Roylen looked surprised.

"Huh?" Ziel was just as surprised.

Why bring that up now?

"Is that true, Ziel?"

"Well… yeah, but—hey!"

"What? It's fine, isn't it? I know you, but I don’t know Uni. If he’s avoiding you and I don’t know why, isn't it only natural to ask? He’s your senior disciple, after all."

"…That’s true."

"Though I don't actually know him that well," Roylen added.

"Really?"

"I was in the research lab at the academy, while Eunice was an apprentice in the Grand Library. Our paths never really crossed. I met him a few times when visiting our master for research, but that's about it. Fortunately, we seem to get along well enough."

"Huh… Also, what’s with 'Uni-chan'?"

"I want to be friends."

"And yet, he's avoiding you?"

"No, he isn’t. You're just overthinking it."

"How can you say that? You don’t actually know."

"Oh? Speak of the devil."

"Huh?" Ziel and Dewey spoke in unison.

Roylen was looking towards the door—the same door he'd entered from. It was still open. Had he planned to leave right away after grabbing his sample? Or was he just the type to leave doors open if he was going to use them again? Either way, it remained ajar.

Since this was the storage room at the end of the hall, they had a clear view down the corridor.

Purple hair shimmered like a jewel in the light streaming through the windows.

He hadn’t noticed them yet. He was approaching. Then, he started to realize—tilting his head curiously as he peeked through the door.

He noticed.

Their eyes met.

And then—

A radiant smile, as if a star had just been born.

He dashed down the hallway toward them.

"Zi—"

And then—

He stopped.

Frozen at the entrance of the storage room, his feet and expression halted.

Ziel had already started to rise from his seat. He was prepared to welcome him. Prepared to say, "I was just getting glasses made."

But the great mage, standing still, seemed to think something over.

"…I'm feeling thirsty. I think I'll go get some tea."

With a swift turn, he walked away.

And there he remained—an abandoned young man.

For a while, he let the sounds of summer insects wash over him, his mind drifting to distant ocean waves, while the sun warmed his back, even in the air-conditioned room.

Then, finally, he turned to the two beside him.

"…See?"

"See what? Go chase after him already."

"Huh?"

"Do people who are avoiding you make faces like that? Go. Hug him."

With a light kick to his shoe, Ziel stood.

He glanced at Roylen for help.

"Ziel," Roylen said, arms crossed, eyes closed, serious.

"At your age, you may not realize this, but friends from your youth are irreplaceable."

"Uh… okay."

"And the time you get to spend with them—your youth itself—is much shorter and more fleeting than you imagine."

"Uh… huh."

"So?"

"Go after him and hug him."

"What…?"

"Off you go," Roylen joined in.

Ziel uttered another weak, "What…?"

But the two men pushing him forward would hear no objections. They shoved him out of the storage room. The door shut behind him.

He was left in the hallway.

One more time—

"What…?"