* * *
I should probably keep still and apologize until he calms down.
I’ll do my best to endure until Batista’s satisfied.
No getting too worked up.
Time to focus on the letter again.
What’s written here is honestly so sad, if I really get into it, maybe I can stop thinking about other things.
“But that guy was actually the worst kind of trash—”
Wait, this part’s scratched out.
Looks like he tried to get rid of it.
But why bother?
“He was trash though, wasn’t he? No need to erase it.”
Was he trying to write it politely, without cursing?
Batista hesitated for once, looking a bit awkward.
“…You might not think that way.”
“Me?”
“Using harsh language about someone you liked, out of nowhere… it usually makes people uncomfortable.”
But I don’t have even a grain of goodwill toward that jerk!
If anything, I really do want to kill him!
…Still.
That must’ve been what Batista was used to.
He must’ve had moments where he wanted to talk about something painful, but the person he was talking to liked Gaspar more than him, so he had to hold back.
Oof… my chest hurts.
He actually thought I might take Gaspar’s side instead of his.
That’s the mindset he wrote this with. No wonder he seemed so hesitant.
Right, Batista had no way of knowing what I was doing all this time.
It wouldn’t be strange for him to assume I got friendly with Gaspar in his absence.
And still, he didn’t give up.
He wrote me a letter to change my mind.
Even with all those bad memories weighing him down, he mustered up the strength to see me again.
Something warm and fuzzy blooms in my chest.
Does this mean I’m someone Batista truly doesn’t want to lose?
I’m honestly… really happy.
Ah, if only I were a bit more dependable.
Then maybe I could’ve been worthy of being a “true love” for someone.
It’s a shame.
Of course, I’m not even asking for romance—just friendship.
Friendship.
Well, we’ve gotten this close, so maybe introducing someone next time will go a little more smoothly?
I’m hoping for at least that much.
“You don’t have to talk to me in roundabout ways anymore.”
Instead of answering, Batista just pulled me into a tighter hug.
His crushing arm strength made it hard to breathe, but I endured it.
That must mean he’s happy, no matter what anyone says.
I opened the rest of the letters I’d gathered up in my arms.
Most were ones I’d tossed aside because the handwriting bothered me.
Even that was ridiculously cute.
Like, he tried to make it look neat even though his penmanship’s a mess—that’s effort, right?
As I sorted them by handwriting and filtered out the duplicates, I came across something I hadn’t read before.
“I don’t think Gaspar took me in with bad intentions from the start. Maybe he wanted to do a good deed, or try raising a disciple.”
Is this his way of softening “absolute scumbag of the century”?
He really tried hard.
“You really think that?”
Batista blew softly on my neck.
I flinched hard in his arms, trembling.
He probably did that right over my tattoo.
Even the magic seal on it looked like it was squirming in surprise.
If I hadn’t been pinned in place, I might’ve bolted too.
It wasn’t fear—just an overwhelming tension in a completely different sense.
“Yeah.”
“Y-Yeah?”
Isn’t that too generous a view?
I mean, you’re actually giving your master a positive evaluation?
There was so much I wanted to say, but I couldn’t keep the conversation going.
If he kept brushing his lips against bare skin like that, there’d be no turning back.
Batista, you cruel hero…
Is this revenge because I turned you down and said I’d rather read letters?
It’s hitting way too hard—it hurts.
“The problem is, I turned out to be far more talented than he expected.”
Batista said it in a flat, emotionless voice.
So calm that it made my heart ache even more.
So he knew…
That Gaspar tormented him out of jealousy, knowing Batista was more skilled than he was… and still he endured it?
[He praised me every time I made progress.
He was the first person who ever showed me that kind of care, so I started to rely on him more and more.
But as time went on, he started going out without me more often.
I thought maybe I’d done something wrong, so I tried my best to serve him, hoping to make things better.
But it didn’t work.
That wasn’t the problem in the first place.
I didn’t know much about human relationships, so when I went to pick him up while he was drunk, I was caught off guard by something his drinking buddy said.
I still remember it clearly.
‘There’s no way some lowborn orphan could be more skilled than a noble like you. He probably just looks strong because he’s got brute strength. He’ll hit his ceiling soon!’
I wanted my master to deny it.
But they noticed I was there before I got to hear his answer.
The other guy ran away when he saw me.
And my master… just laughed it off like it was nothing.
He told me that people envy the strong, and it’s not cool to get worked up over every little insult.
To a kid like me, that actually sounded pretty convincing.
So even though he never once denied those words, I decided to believe that if I’d come a little later, he would’ve spoken up for me.
I chose to believe that the man who took me from the temple because he recognized my value—
he had to be on my side.
Because if not…then maybe I don’t have anyone on my side at all.]
God, I want to go back in time…
Even though I am in the past already, I want to go even further back just to hold Batista…
Don’t break someone so completely and then turn around and expect them to fall in love with you.
That’s not fair.
Honestly, being in his arms like this is incredibly awkward, but if it gives him peace of mind, then he can have this body of mine as much as he needs.
It’s not like I can actually go back in time, so…
I turned around and gently hugged him back.
“I’m on your side. No matter what!”
“…Then why did you leave me behind?”
Ack.
“N-no, I mean… that’s… uh…”
But you were the one who said there was no reason for us to travel together anymore!
Technically, I didn’t even cling or cause trouble—I was super cooperative!
“It’s fine. I wasn’t entirely blameless either.”
My heart nearly fell out of my chest.
Finally, I was able to go back to reading the letter.
Somehow, every time we talk, I end up in a bind, but no matter how high my emotions run, I’ve gotta keep it together.
[I think that’s when his gambling got worse.
He’d gone to gambling dens before, but that’s when he started accumulating real debts.
Outwardly, he denied it, but deep down I knew it was because of me.
I believed that if I just became a better student, he’d stop throwing himself into gambling.
So I kept trying to clean up after whatever mess he made.
It wasn’t easy.
No matter how hard I worked, nothing got better.
When we went on jobs together, he’d forget to prep my equipment while his was perfectly ready.
That subtle malice began to show.
I guess he hated how I wouldn’t break, no matter how hard he pushed.
I didn’t know what to do, so I asked others for advice.
But no matter how careful I was, it always reached my master’s ears.
He said it hurt that I didn’t trust him.
He looked genuinely pained when he said it.
Listening to him, I started to feel like I was the one in the wrong.
Even if I had been sure of my thoughts on my own, in front of him, they always wavered.
I couldn’t even deny it when he said, ‘If not for me, who else would’ve made a knight’s squire out of a backwoods orphan like you?’
It was rare, after all.
Gaspar really was a pious noble.
He did good deeds.
He often helped others.
I wanted to believe that at his core, he was still a good person.]
No, no way!
That was just image management!
* * *
