Chapter 77:
It Wasn’t Me
“About the ornament I made for Morgan.”
“Huh? Oh, the one Morgan carries on his scabbard?”
“Yes, the one you made for him, right? Do you take orders to make ornaments like that?”
“Not really, but… if Tuariche wants, I can make one. It’s simple enough. How many do you need?”
“Around ten?”
“That’s doable.”
Tuariche had saved my life from a monster. This much was the least I could do.
Hamade took out a notebook and pen from the inner pocket of his work clothes.
Riche described the design she had in mind with a bright expression.
“I want to place a birthstone in a diamond-shaped frame.”
Hamade wrote down Riche’s request.
While sketching the design, Hamade voiced the thought that popped into his head.
“But Tuariche, about the ornament Morgan carries around…”
“Yeah?”
Although I only understand machines, someone like Tuariche, with her looks, probably knows more about this sort of thing than I do.
“Doesn’t it seem like it has a story with a lover? Morgan personally brought that piece of glass and asked me to make it into an ornament. Every time he looks at it, there’s a sparkle in his eyes.”
Hamade kept sketching, recalling Morgan holding the ornament.
Morgan said he didn’t have a lover, but there definitely seemed to be something.
“Didn’t you see Morgan’s gaze too, Tuariche? You’ve been around him lately. To me, that look is how one would look at a lover.”
“Well…”
But there was something Hamade didn’t know.
This topic was even more troubling for Riche. She’d never had a lover before.
‘A gaze full of affection?’
Riche hesitated to answer Hamade, yet she felt a thrill inside.
Morgan looking at a piece of glass with a gentle, affectionate gaze…
Her heart started pounding, even though she was doubtful.
“It’s the first time I’ve seen him like something so much. He likes that ornament I made in ten minutes more than the weapon I stayed up all night crafting.”
‘Ah.’
Then Riche thought she might be gravely mistaken.
There was someone else Morgan might be thinking of when he looked at the ornament.
‘Hamade.’
Hamade made the ornament, after all.
Her elated feelings quickly turned into embarrassment.
“Hamade, can I ask you something?”
“Huh? Of course.”
At Riche’s question, Hamade paused and looked up from his pen.
“When did you and Morgan become friends?”
“Morgan and I?”
Hamade scratched his short, curly brown hair with the end of his pen.
When did they become friends?
“First year? Wasn’t it the day Morgan transferred? Oh, I remember. I made a flight suit back then. I wore it and jumped from the second floor, but I ended up crashing into Morgan. It was such a shame. If I’d reduced the air resistance a little more…”
Hamade soon forgot about Morgan’s affectionate gaze, his eyes sparkling as he talked about his invention.
Riche, although responding to Hamade, had a lot on her mind.
Since the first year? They’d been together for six years.
It was probably Hamade, not her, whom Ian favored.
‘Hamade was the one who stayed by Ian’s side during his hardest times.’
Her feet, which had felt as if they were floating in the air, seemed to touch the ground again.
This was her place. Ian’s place was over there.
Between them was a six-year gap.
‘I was being presumptuous.’
It was presumptuous to think that Morgan would like her just because she had known Ian since childhood.
She wasn’t there to support Ian during his toughest times.
“Hamade.”
She felt relieved.
“I think Morgan does have someone he likes.”
“Huh? Oh. Were we talking about that? Hmm. So you think so too, Tuariche.”
She was glad she hadn’t mistaken Morgan’s feelings.
She was relieved she hadn’t confessed her selfish feelings to Morgan.
Riche gave Hamade a gentle smile.
“Thank you, Hamade.”
“For what…? The ornament?”
“Yes. I’m truly glad you’re here. Thank you.”
She was grateful for Hamade.
Perhaps because of you, Ian could live.
Riche gave Hamade a gentle smile.
“Oh… it’s nothing special.”
Hamade looked at Riche and felt his heart race.
She’s really beautiful.
If I were a man, I’d have fallen for Tuariche.
“Oh? Morgan.”
As Morgan entered the dormitory building, he turned his head at the sound of someone calling him. It was Hamade in the communal lounge.
Seeing all sorts of things scattered on the table, it seemed Hamade was busy creating something again today. Morgan walked over to the lounge, and Hamade spoke up.
“You’re back late?”
“Yeah. Training.”
“Until this hour?”
Hamade looked out the window. The sun had long set, and the moon was shining in the sky—it was just past midnight.
Hamade shook his head in disbelief. “Winning the Cxelphon Championship isn’t for just anyone.”
Morgan was already strong, but how much stronger did he want to become? There were even rumors among the students that Morgan Dayel’s skills were on par with Instructor Derkydion Rodwick. Morgan had been repeatedly visiting the preliminary task site for Rodwick’s exam, a feat only possible with considerable skill.
“So, you had a draw again today if you went to take the task?”
Though he had lost eventually, witnessing Morgan go toe-to-toe with Rodwick was something the swordsmanship students couldn’t stop talking about since the qualification test weeks ago.
“That was last year’s win. I almost didn’t even qualify to participate this year. I’m lacking, so I need to train.”
“Sure, sure,” Hamade replied, nodding as if he expected such a diligent response from Morgan.
He then picked up a small gemstone with tweezers, one he had bought from a jeweler in town. These birthstones were for an ornament that Riche had commissioned. Thanks to a lovely and generous client, his wallet was feeling a little fuller, and the quality of the materials was exceptional. Hamade hummed a cheerful tune.
“What are you making? It looks similar to the one you made for me.”
The materials were indeed similar. The only difference was that Morgan’s ornament had a circular frame, whereas Hamade was currently working on a diamond-shaped one.
“Yeah, it’s something like that. Tuariche asked me to make it.”
“…Riche did?”
Hamade looked up at the sound of a chair being pulled. Morgan had sat down right in front of him.
“Mind if I watch?”
Normally, he’d have gone straight to wash up and go to bed. Why was he suddenly so interested?
Hamade, curious, asked, “You can, but aren’t you tired? You just came from training.”
“I’m fine.”
He’d probably go back to training again at dawn. Since the first time Hamade had met Morgan, he’d never skipped a single dawn training session. Sometimes it felt like Morgan was almost superhuman.
Hamade, accustomed to this by now, shrugged and resumed his work. Morgan occasionally spoke up.
“Did Riche order these for others?”
“Yeah, they’re gifts.”
…
“All the gemstones are different? And the colors vary. What’s Riche’s favorite color?”
“How would I know?”
…
“The frame is diamond-shaped. I bet it would look pretty with a silver gemstone set in it.”
“…”
…I can’t concentrate.
Hamade put down his tweezers, glancing at Morgan, who was smiling sweetly.
‘Ah, Morgan.’
It was so obvious.
With that gleeful face and sugary tone, how could anyone not notice?
“Morgan,” Hamade asked, a bit tiredly. “You like Tuariche, don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“…You like her?”
Hamade was surprised by the immediate answer. Although he’d suspected it, he didn’t expect Morgan to confirm it so easily.
Morgan, even after his confession, remained as cheerful as ever, his gaze still fixed on the table where Tuariche’s design notes were written in Hamade’s notebook.
“Was Tuariche the one you thought of when you looked at the ornament’s glass piece?”
“Maybe.”
Acting coy.
Morgan must have his reasons for wanting to keep it secret.
But that wasn’t what mattered now. Hamade felt a mix of excitement and surprise. His friend, who seemed to only care about training, was experiencing romantic feelings.
And in such a sincere way, too.
‘Tuariche thought Morgan might like someone, and I saw them holding hands the other day. Maybe things are going well between them?’
No wonder Morgan admitted his feelings so openly. They might even be on the verge of dating.
Hamade, feeling like a front-row spectator to a new couple’s beginning, excitedly asked, “Morgan, since you like Tuariche, are you going to confess? Things seem to be going well.”
Once again, Morgan responded immediately.
“I’m not going to.”
“What?”
Did he mishear?
Hamade repeated the question, “Morgan, you’re not going to confess to Tuariche?”
“Yeah.”
Why?
He wanted to ask but noticed Morgan’s expression remained unchanged, his face still wearing a soft smile. It was as if he’d already come to terms with his decision long ago, without a trace of regret.
Reluctantly, Hamade lowered the imaginary popcorn he’d been holding in his mind.
On his way back to the dorm after morning training, Morgan kept his gaze ahead, yet his senses were attuned to his surroundings.
“Morgan!”
The cheerful voice that usually greeted him by this time was absent today.
It had only been a few days, but somehow, it had already become part of his daily routine. He felt a pang of emptiness.
‘Maybe it’s for the best.’
If a few days apart felt this lonely, spending months together would have made it impossible to part.
If they’d spent so much time together, he might not have been able to let go of Riche and could have ended up clinging to her.
He’d resolved to live selfishly for only three years. He couldn’t bring Riche into the dangers he faced, into that endless chasm below the narrow ledge.
“I’ll never hate you, ever,” she had told him.
For the three years he had to endure, that sentiment was enough.
Though Riche might have changed her mind by now, the warmth of her embrace and her words gave Ian the strength to keep going.
‘I have to get stronger.’
Stronger than he was now.
So, Morgan continued to the training grounds, refining his sword skills and hardening his body until late at night.
Strong enough to withstand anything, so that he could return to Riche in three years, safe and sound.
“Morgan!”
Then he heard a familiar voice.
This time, it wasn’t his imagination.
“Did you just come back from morning training?”
Morgan couldn’t take his eyes off Riche, who was walking toward him.
