Seneca and Ilga had begun their special training—and whether inspired by following the leaders of the commoners and nobles, or perhaps triggered by watching the match between me and Oujin, the crowd that had surrounded us dispersed and each person started swinging their wooden swords individually.

They clashed against each other to their limits, and after each bout, they discussed what they had learned. There are many things one cannot notice on their own but can be pointed out when facing an opponent.

I had thought club activities were little more than playing around, but there was quite a bit of passion. It resembled the methods of Blythe's faction.

Of course, Lili’s influence on the club’s direction must be significant, but more than that, I felt that the extreme dangers posed by the dungeon curriculum were what truly drove them.

Not bad. Everyone was growing, if only little by little.

Now then, time for a little rest—...

"Good work, Oujin-san."

Before I realized it, a hand was offering a hand towel to Oujin. It was Monica Frixel, a girl from Class One, whose long bangs covered her eyes.

From below her eyes downward, her face was already blushing red. No, even the hand holding out the towel was dyed red.

"Ah, yeah. Thank y—hii!?"

Oujin had reached out halfway to take the towel, but when he realized it was Monica, he hastily pulled his hand back.

Monica murmured in a timid voice.

"Um... it would make me happy if you used it..."

I knew. Even I could tell.

Monica Frixel was in love with Oujin. And despite being an indecent pervert, Oujin was extremely bad with women and was terrified of Monica’s directness.

Oujin froze for a moment but somehow regained himself and averted his gaze from Monica.

"N-no thanks. I have my own towel."

"Ah, sorry. I borrowed yours without asking."

I had used Oujin’s towel, which was left by the wall, without permission. I roughly wiped the sweat from my head and face with it, to the point that it might cause baldness from friction.

Of course, I did it on purpose. I quietly gave Monica a thumbs-up, and she nodded slightly.

Don’t worry, Monica. You’re not alone. Leave it to me—the ‘Sword Saint,’ no, now the ‘Master of Romance.’ Under Void Scale's tutelage, I even managed to guess Lili’s feelings the other day. I must admit, I’ve grown too.

Still, Oujin, seriously. I get that you're bad at talking, but treating Monica like that is pitiful. Just like how I don’t avoid Riona, you could at least become friends with her. But Oujin’s aversion to women is ingrained.

No, maybe it's not that he dislikes them. His face was red as a tomato after all.

Oujin reached his hand toward me with a sullen expression.

"Fine. Just give it back to me like that."

He could have just accepted it gracefully. Look, Monica was visibly crestfallen. She had worked up the courage to offer it to the boy she liked.

No choice. I’ll lend a hand a little more.

I blew my nose vigorously into Oujin’s towel.

"Hm? Did you say something?"

"Eremiaaa!?"

"Oh, the towel? Sorry. I’ll wash it and return it tomorrow."

I glanced at Monica and winked. She clasped her hands in front of her chest, radiating gratitude so strong it hurt.

Time for the finishing blow.

"Sorry, Monica. Would you lend yours to Oujin instead?"

"Y-yeah."

This time, Monica held out her towel again, and Oujin, though reluctantly, accepted it—while averting his gaze. Still, Monica beamed shyly, delighted that he took it.

Good expression. It reminded me of the old Lili.

I told Oujin,

"Stop being so bashful and at least say thanks. Aren’t samurai swordsmen from the Eastern Country strict about manners?"

"Ugh..."

Glancing sideways at me once, Oujin turned to Monica and bowed his head slightly.

"—Th-thank... you... very much... M—mn, mmmh. Frixel-san. I’ll wash it properly and return it tomorrow..."

"Ah, no, it’s fine. I should be the one thanking you, Oujin-san, for always helping me with sword practice in club activities. It’s meant as thanks. You don’t have to wash it, so please feel free to use it from now on."

"Y-yeah..."

Ooh.

I didn’t really understand it, but watching the two of them made my chest tighten oddly.

Could this be a symptom of reflux esophagitis? Maybe I should consult the school nurse.

Both of them were blushing furiously, staring at the ground as they spoke.

So pure, really. Well, well, an old man should make himself scarce.

Still carrying Oujin’s towel on my shoulder, I turned my back to them.

"Well then, Oujin. I’ll head back first."

"Wait, Eremia."

"What is it?"

Oujin pointed at his towel on my shoulder, as if seeking revenge.

"You said you have to thank someone when you borrow something. Don’t you have something to say to me?"

"Why should I, who went out of my way to help you, have to thank you? Don’t make me laugh, you blockhead."

"Eh, eehh...? That’s a little harsh... eehhh...?"

After completely putting him down, Oujin let out a pitiful whine.

I snorted and left the training grounds.