Chapter 8: “Insensitivity”.

I turned six.

My daily life hasn’t changed much.

Mornings are for sword training.

Afternoons, if I have free time, are for fieldwork.

And under the big tree on the hill, I practice magic.

Lately I’ve been experimenting a lot—
trying to use magic to assist my swordsmanship.

Blasting wind to increase swing speed,
creating shockwaves to flip my body around instantly,
turning the ground under an opponent’s feet into mud to stop their movement…

Some might say I’m obsessing over petty tricks
and that’s why my swordsmanship isn’t improving.

But I disagree.

There are two ways to get stronger in fighting games.

The first is to figure out how to win
even with weaker stats than your opponent.

The second is to grind and raise your own stats.

Right now, I’m focused on the first one.

My current goal: defeat Paul.

Paul is strong.

As a father he still has room to grow,
but as a swordsman he’s first-rate.

If I stubbornly focused only on the second path—
pure physical training—
I could probably beat him someday.

I’m six now.
In ten years I’ll be sixteen; Paul will be thirty-five.
Five years after that I’ll be twenty-one; he’ll be forty.
Yeah—someday I’ll win.

But that’s meaningless.

Beating an old man just gets you
“Ahh, back in my prime…” as an excuse.

To make it count,
I have to defeat him while he’s still in his prime.

Paul is twenty-five right now.
He may have stepped back from the front lines,
but physically he’s at his peak.

I want to win against him at least once within the next five years.
Ideally with pure swordsmanship.
But that seems impossible,
so I’ll mix in magic for close-quarters combat.

With that in mind,
I spend today’s training visualizing battles against mental-Paul.

—

Whenever I’m under the tree,
Sylph shows up nine times out of ten.

“Sorry—did I keep you waiting?”

“Nope. I just got here too.”

We start playing like a couple meeting for a date.

In the beginning, whenever we played,
Somar and his brat squad would show up.
Later even some older elementary-school-age kids joined in,
but I repelled them all.

Every time, Somar’s mother would storm over to our house in a rage.

That’s when I figured it out…

She wasn’t really upset about her son.
She just liked Paul.
She was using the kids’ fights as an excuse to come see him.
Ridiculous.

Somar himself seemed fed up with being dragged all the way here
over a single scratch.
He wasn’t faking injuries after all.
Sorry for doubting you, kid.

The attacks happened maybe five times.
Then one day they stopped completely.

I still see them playing in the distance sometimes,
or we pass each other,
but we don’t speak.
They’ve apparently decided to ignore me.

And so that incident was more or less resolved,
and the tree on the hill officially became our territory.

—

Now then—more important than those brats is Sylph.

Under the guise of “playing,”
I’ve been training him in magic.

If he learns magic,
he can fend off those brats by himself.

At first Sylph would get out of breath after just five or six beginner spells.
But over this past year his total mana has increased dramatically.
He can practice magic all afternoon now without issue.

“The total amount of mana has a limit.”

Those words are starting to sound less and less credible.

That said, his magic is still far from perfect.

Especially fire—he’s terrible with it.

Sylph handles wind and water magic with surprising dexterity,
but fire just doesn’t work for him.

Why?

Because he has long-ear tribe (elf) blood?

No.

I learned this in Roxy’s lessons.

Every person has affinity and aversion elements.

Literally—everyone has elements they’re naturally good at
and elements they’re naturally bad at.

“Sylph—are you scared of fire?”

I asked him once.

“No.”

He shook his head,
but then showed me his palm.

There was an ugly burn scar.
When he was about three,
his parents looked away for a moment
and he grabbed a hot iron poker from the fireplace.

“But I’m not scared anymore.”

That’s what he said.

Still—instinctively, he’s probably still afraid.

Such experiences affect aversion elements.

For example, the dwarf race often has water as an aversion element.
They live near mountains,
play in dirt from childhood,
learn blacksmithing or mining from their fathers as they grow—
so fire and earth come naturally.
But while working in the mountains,
they might get scalded by a sudden hot spring
or nearly drown in a flash flood—
making water something they instinctively fear.

It’s not about race.

By the way, I have no aversion element.

I was raised nice and cozy.

Even without fire magic,
he can still make warm wind and warm water.
But explaining the concept would be a hassle,
so I made him practice fire anyway.

Fire is useful in any situation.
Salmonella dies when heated.
If you don’t want food poisoning,
you have to cook things.

Sylph struggled but never complained.
Probably because he was the one who asked.

With my staff (the one from Roxy) in hand
and my magic textbook (brought from home) open,
Sylph chants with a serious expression.
Even as a guy, I think he’s beautiful.

He’s definitely going to be popular in the future.

(The heart of jealousy is the heart of a father…)

I could almost hear a voice somewhere saying that.
I hurriedly shook my head.

No, no.

Jealousy is pointless.

Besides—this is part of the plan.

The handsome-friend fishing strategy.
Sylph is handsome, I’m average, girls will split♪

“Hey, Rudy—what does this say?”

While I was singing in my head,
Sylph pointed to a page in the textbook
and looked up at me.

That upward glance is lethal.
I almost want to hug and kiss him.
I hold back.

“That’s ‘avalanche’—nada-re.”

“What does it mean?”

“When a huge amount of snow piles up on a mountain
and the weight becomes too much, it collapses and rushes down.
Like when snow builds up on a roof in winter
and sometimes drops with a thud—
but way bigger and scarier.”

“Wow… Have you seen one?”

“An avalanche? Of course……………nope.”

Only on TV.

I have Sylph read the textbook.
This also doubles as teaching him to read and write.
Literacy is useful.
I don’t know the literacy rate in this world,
but it’s definitely not near 100% like modern Japan.
There’s no “learn to read” spell here.
The lower the literacy rate,
the bigger advantage being able to read gives.

“I did it!”

Sylph let out a joyful cry.
He had successfully cast the intermediate water spell ‘Ice Pillar.’
A thick ice column burst from the ground
and sparkled brilliantly in the sunlight.

“You’ve improved a lot.”

“Yeah! …But this book doesn’t have the thing you used, right?”

Sylph tilted his head as he asked.

“Hm?”

He meant the hot water.
I flipped through the textbook
and pointed to two spots.

“It’s right here. Waterfall and Heat Hand.”

“…?”

“You use them together.”

“…??”

He tilted his head again.

“How do you chant two at once?”

Oops.
I’d been speaking from my own感覚.
Right—chanting two things at the same time is impossible verbally.

“Um… you cast Waterfall without chanting,
then use Heat Hand to warm it.
You can chant one if you want,
or collect water in a bucket first and heat it afterward.”

I demonstrated.
Sylph watched wide-eyed.

Chantless magic is apparently advanced technology in this world.
Roxy couldn’t do it,
and even at the Magic University,
only one teacher could.

So Sylph should probably focus on mixed magic instead.
He can achieve similar results without doing anything difficult.

…Or so I thought.

“Teach me that.”

“That?”

“The no-chant one.”

Apparently he didn’t think so.
Of course—being able to do it in one cast
looks way better than alternating two spells.
Hmm.

Well—if I teach him and he can’t do it,
he’ll probably fall back on mixed magic anyway.

“Hmm… okay.
You know that feeling during chanting
when mana gathers from all over your body to your fingertips?
Try doing that without chanting.
When you feel the mana gathering,
picture the spell you want
and squeeze it out from your hand.
Start with Water Ball.”

Hmm—did that get through?
Hard to explain something you do instinctively.

Sylph closed his eyes,
grunted “mmmuuuh,”
and started doing some weird wiggle dance.

Explaining something done by feel is difficult.
Chantless is all in the head.
Everyone probably has their own easiest way.

I thought fundamentals were important,
so for the past year I made Sylph chant everything.
The more you rely on chanting,
the harder chantless becomes—
like switching from right hand to left.
Asking him to change now might be too hard.

“I did it! I did it, Rudy!”

…Or so I thought.
Apparently not that hard.
Sylph cried out happily
and started firing off chantless Water Balls.

Even though he’d been chanting for a year,
it was apparently only about as difficult
as taking training wheels off a bike.

Youthful sensitivity?
Or just Sylph’s talent?

“All right—try doing all the spells you’ve learned so far without chanting.”

“Yeah!”

Either way—if he can do chantless,
it’ll be easier for me to teach.
I can just show him what I do.

“Hm?”

Suddenly a few raindrops fell.
Looking up,
the sky had turned pitch black with rain clouds.
After a brief pause,
torrential rain poured down.

I usually check the weather and adjust so it doesn’t rain until we leave,
but today—excited that Sylph could use chantless—
I let my guard down.

“Ahh—what awful rain.”

“Rudy—you can make rain,
but you can’t stop it?”

“I can, but we’re already soaked,
and crops need rain to grow.
Unless someone’s in trouble because of bad weather,
I won’t stop it.”

Chatting like that,
we ran back to the Greyrat house.
Sylph’s home is too far.

—

“I’m home.”

“E-Excuse me…”

When we entered,
Lilia was waiting with large cloths.

“Welcome back, Young Master Rudeus… and your friend.
Hot water is prepared.
Please dry off upstairs before you catch cold.
Master and Madam will be home soon,
so I’m preparing for them.
Can you manage alone?”

“Yes.”

Apparently Lilia predicted we’d come back drenched
when she saw the downpour.
She doesn’t talk much
and rarely approaches,
but she’s a capable maid.
Without needing to explain,
when she saw Sylph’s face
she went back inside and brought another large cloth.

We took off our shoes,
wiped our heads and feet,
and went upstairs barefoot.

In my room,
a large tub was filled with hot water.
This world has no showers,
nor the custom of filling bathtubs.
According to Roxy, some races do use hot springs.
Well—for someone who hated baths in my previous life,
this is fine.

“Hm?”

When I stripped naked,
Sylph blushed and fidgeted.

“What’s wrong? You’ll catch cold if you don’t undress.”

“Eh? U-Um…”

But he didn’t move.

Embarrassed to undress in front of someone…?
Ah—no, maybe he still can’t undress himself.
Can’t be helped—at six years old.

“Come on—raise both arms.”

“Um… okay…”

I had him lift both arms
and pulled the soaked shirt off in one motion.
Pale skin with no muscle whatsoever was exposed.
When I went for the pants,
he grabbed my wrist.

“N-No…”

Too embarrassed to be seen?
I was like that when I was little too.
Back in kindergarten—
during pool time we had to strip naked and shower,
and I felt strangely ashamed being seen by kids my age.

But Sylph’s hands are cold.
If I don’t hurry he’ll really catch cold.
I forcibly pulled his pants down.

“N-No… stop…”

When I reached for his pumpkin-print underwear,
he smacked my head.
Looking up—Sylph was glaring at me with teary eyes.

“I won’t laugh.”

“I-It’s not… n-no…!”

It was genuine refusal.
Since we met,
this was the first time Sylph rejected me so strongly.
A little shocking.

Is there some elf taboo against showing nakedness?
If so—forcing it would be bad…

“Okay, okay.
But change into dry underwear later.
Wet pants feel gross and can give you a stomachache if you get cold.”

“Uuu…”

When I let go,
Sylph nodded tearfully.

Cute.
I want to get even closer to this adorable boy.
The thought made mischief suddenly sprout inside me.
Wait—if I’m the only one naked, that’s unfair.

“Gotcha!”

I yanked the underwear down in one motion.
Come forth! Zen Pendulum!

“E… I-Iyaaahhh!!”

“…Huh?”

Sylph’s scream.
In an instant he crouched and covered himself.

In that split second,
what I saw wasn’t the familiar pure short sword
I’d grown used to.
Nor was it some ominous dark blade with evil patterns.
What was there—what wasn’t there—

Right… it wasn’t there.

What should have been there… wasn’t.
Something I’d seen countless times in my previous life.
On computer monitors.
Sometimes mosaic-covered, sometimes uncensored.
While staring at it,
I’d fantasized about tasting and entering the real thing someday
while shooting black blasts onto white handkerchiefs.

It was there.

Sylph—

He… was a she.

My mind went blank.

Did I just do something unforgivable…?

—

“Rudeus—what are you doing…?”

I snapped around.
Paul was standing there.
When did he get back?
He must have heard the scream and come running.
I froze.
Paul froze too.

There was a naked Sylph crouching and crying.
In my naked hand—her panties.
And my cute baby boy
stood young yet bold, asserting his presence.

No excuse possible.
The panties slipped from my hand.
Even though it was raining outside,
I swear I heard them go pat as they hit the floor.

—

—Paul’s Perspective—

I came home from work
to find my son assaulting his young female friend.

I almost scolded him outright—
but I held back.
There might be circumstances again.
I won’t repeat last time’s mistake.

For now I left the sobbing girl to Zenith and Lilia
and wiped my son down with hot water.

“Why did you do that?”

“I’m sorry.”

Last year when I scolded him
he absolutely refused to apologize—
but this time the words came out immediately.
His attitude was meek—like salted greens that had been kneaded.

“I’m asking for the reason.”

“She was soaked… I thought I should take her clothes off…”

“But she didn’t want you to, right?”

“Yes…”

“I told you to be gentle with girls, didn’t I?”

“Yes… I’m sorry.”

Rudeus offered no excuses.
When I was his age,
I always had “but” and “I mean” ready.
An excuse brat.

My son is splendid.

“Well… at your age it’s natural to be curious.
But forcing it is no good.”

“…Yes. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

Seeing my dejected son,
I started feeling guilty.
Being a womanizer runs in the family.
When I was young I was full of energy and lust—
couldn’t hold back around cute girls.
I’ve calmed down some now,
but back then I really couldn’t control myself.

It must be inherited.
For a rational boy like him,
such instincts are probably troubling.
Why didn’t I notice sooner…?

No—this isn’t the time to sympathize.
I need to show him what to do based on experience.

“Not to me—to Sylphiette.
Got it?”

“Sylph… will she forgive me…?”

“Don’t apologize expecting forgiveness from the start.”

When I said that,
he looked even more crushed.
Thinking back—
he’s been fixated on that girl from the beginning.
Last year’s incident was to protect her.
He even got punched by his own father for it.

After that he played with her every day,
protected her from other kids.
While training sword and magic,
he still made time for her diligently.
He even gave her his precious staff and textbook.
That much effort—
of course he’d be devastated thinking she might hate him now.
I was the same when I was young.
Whenever a girl hated me I’d get depressed.

But relax, son.
From my experience—
there’s still plenty of time to turn this around.

“Don’t worry.
If you’ve never been mean to her before,
a sincere apology will get her to forgive you.”

When I said that,
his face brightened a little.
He’s a smart kid.
He failed this time,
but he’ll recover quickly.
He might even use this failure cleverly
to capture her heart.
Reliable—and a little terrifying.

—

“Sorry, Sylph. Your hair was short,
so I really thought you were a boy!”

I thought my son was perfect—
but maybe he’s kind of an idiot.
It was the first time I ever thought that.

—

—Rudeus Perspective—

After apologizing, praising, and soothing,
I somehow got her to forgive me.

Since Sylph is a girl,
from now on I’ll call her Sylphie.
Her full name is apparently Sylphiette.

Paul was stunned—
“How could you mistake such a cute girl for a boy? What kind of eyes do you have?”
Even I didn’t expect to actually shout “You were a girl all along?!”

Can’t be helped.
When we first met her hair was shorter than mine.
Not stylish berry-short—
but not buzz-cut short either. Just short.

Her clothes were never girly.
Light-colored top and pants. That’s it.
If she’d worn a skirt even once,
I wouldn’t have mistaken her.

No… thinking calmly—

She was being bullied because of her hair color.
So she cut it short to stand out less.

If she’s bullied she has to run away.
So pants over skirts.

Sylphie’s family isn’t wealthy.
If they make one pair of pants,
there’s no budget left for a skirt.

If we’d met three years later,
I wouldn’t have mistaken her.
I just had the preconception “cute boy.”
She’s not really androgynous.
If she… no, never mind.
Anything I say now is just an excuse.

Now that I know she’s a girl,
my attitude changes.
Seeing Sylphie in boyish clothes feels weird.

“Sylphie—you’re cute, so maybe grow your hair out?”

“Huh…?”

If she changed her appearance,
it might make restarting easier.
That’s what I thought, so I suggested it.

Sylphie hates her hair.
But emerald-green hair sparkles translucently in sunlight.
I really want her to grow it.
And if possible—into twintails or a ponytail.

“No…”

But ever since that day,
Sylphie has been wary of me.
Especially physical contact—she avoids it openly.
She used to listen to anything I said,
so this is a bit of a shock.

“I see. Then let’s practice chantless magic again today.”

“Yeah.”

I hide my feelings
and put on a normal face.
Since I’m Sylphie’s only friend,
we end up playing together anyway.
There’s still some awkwardness,
but she plays with me.

For now—that’s good enough.

—

My current skills by this world’s standards:

===============
• Swordsmanship
Sword God Style: Beginner
Water God Style: Beginner

• Attack Magic
Fire: Advanced
Water: Saint
Wind: Advanced
Earth: Advanced

• Healing Magic
Recovery: Intermediate
Detoxification: Beginner
===============

Summoning magic—I can’t use it.

Healing magic is also divided into seven ranks
and consists of four branches: Recovery, Barrier, Detoxification, Divine Strike.
Unlike attack magic, there are no cool names like “Fire Saint.”
It’s just Saint-rank Recovery Healer, Saint-rank Detoxifier, etc.

Recovery literally heals wounds.
At first you can only fix cuts,
but Emperor-rank can apparently regrow lost limbs.
Even God-rank can’t revive the dead, though.

Detoxification is… detoxification.
Cures poison and disease.
Higher ranks can also create poisons or antidotes.
Status-effect magic starts at Saint-rank and is difficult.

Barrier raises defense or creates shields.
Basically support magic.
I don’t know the details,
but it probably speeds metabolism to heal minor wounds
or releases brain chemicals to numb pain.
Roxy couldn’t use it.

Divine Strike is effective against ghosts and evil demons,
but it’s a secret art held by human temple warriors
and isn’t taught even at the Magic University.
Roxy didn’t know it either.
I’ve never seen a ghost,
but apparently they exist here.

Since I don’t understand the principle,
I can’t use it chantless.
Inconvenient.
I don’t even know whether other magic types have scientific principles
like attack magic does.
Mana seems like some universal element.
But I don’t know what changes produce what effects.
Telekinesis—pulling distant objects or drawing them near—
seems possible in theory,
but as someone who was never a psychic,
I have no idea how to reproduce it.

I only vaguely remember how wounds heal,
so I can’t use Healing chantless.
If I had medical knowledge,
I might be able to do healing chantless too.

There are probably all kinds of other things
I could have reproduced with magic
if I’d done them in my previous life.
Or maybe if I’d played sports,
my swordsmanship would be better.
Thinking about it—
what a waste of time my previous life was.

No.

Not a waste.

Sure, I didn’t work. Didn’t go to school.
But I wasn’t just hibernating.
I dabbled in every game and hobby imaginable.
While other people were busy with studies and jobs.

That gaming knowledge, experience, and way of thinking
should be useful in this world too.
It has to be…!

Well—it’s not helping much right now.

—

“Sigh…”

An involuntary sigh escaped.

“What’s wrong, Rudy?”

Paul asked.
We’re in the middle of sword training right now.
Sighing openly usually gets me scolded.
But Paul grinned.

“Haha—I see.
You’re down because Sylphiette’s been cold to you, huh?”

Today’s sigh wasn’t about that.
But it’s true that Sylphie is one of my worries.

“Yeah… well.
My swordsmanship isn’t improving,
Sylphie’s avoiding me—sighs happen.”

Paul grinned wider
and stuck his wooden sword in the ground.
Leaning on it, he looked down at me.
He’s not going to make fun of me, is he…?

“I could give you some advice.”

Unexpected.

I think.
Father—Paul—is popular with women.
Zenith is beautiful,
and there was that thing with Eto’s wife.
Even Lilia didn’t seem entirely displeased when he groped her butt.
There must be some secret
to not being hated by girls.
The path to being a normie.

Well—he’s probably instinct-driven,
so I won’t understand,
but it might be worth hearing.

“Please.”

“Hmm… should I?”

“Shall I lick your shoes?”

“No—you suddenly got all servile.”

“If you don’t tell me,
I’ll report to Mother that you were making eyes at Lilia.”

“Now you’re aggressive… wait—hey!
You saw that?! Fine, fine.
Sorry for teasing.”

I was just fishing with the Lilia thing…
Wait—is he cheating?
Whatever.
It just means the guy’s that popular.
Time to hear the lecture from a Chad.

“All right, Rudy—girls, see—”

“Yes.”

“They like a man’s strong side,
but they also like his weak side.”

“Hou.”

I’ve heard that before.
Something about maternal instinct?

“You’ve only ever shown Sylphiette your strong side, haven’t you?”

“Maybe. I’m not really aware.”

“Think about it.
If someone obviously way stronger than you
came at you with naked desire—how would you feel?”

“Scared, probably.”

“Right?”

He’s talking about that day.
The day she became “she.”

“So you show them your weak side.
Protect them with your strength,
and let them protect you with theirs.
Build that kind of relationship.”

“Hou!”

Easy to understand!
Didn’t expect that from instinct-driven Paul!
Strength alone isn’t enough.
Weakness alone isn’t enough.
But having both makes you popular!

“But how do I show weakness?”

“That’s easy.
You’re worried right now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Take that thing you’re hiding
and show it blatantly in front of Sylphiette.
‘I’m worried. I’m depressed because you’re avoiding me.’”

“And then what happens?”

Paul grinned wickedly.
A bad face.

“If it goes well—she’ll come to you.
She might comfort you.
Then you cheer up.
She’s happy she made you feel better.
No one dislikes that.”

“!”

I see.
Control the other person’s emotions through your own attitude…

As expected.
But will it really go according to plan?

“B-But what if it doesn’t work?”

“Then ask again. I’ll teach you the next move.”

There’s a second move?
This guy’s a schemer!

“I-I see! I’ll go right now!”

“Go, go.”

Paul waved me off casually.
I couldn’t sit still and ran.

“What am I even teaching my six-year-old son…”

I thought I heard a mutter from behind.

—

I reached the tree.
But I got here way too fast—Sylphie isn’t here yet.
Come to think of it, I haven’t eaten lunch.
I brought my wooden sword as usual,
but normally I wipe down first,
so right now I’m drenched in sweat.

What do I do?
Nothing I can do.
In times like this—mental training.
I swing the wooden sword and simulate.

I’ve shown strength. Now show weakness.
Weakness—how again?
Right—show that I’m down.
How?
Timing?
Suddenly?
That’d be weird.
In the flow of conversation.
Can I do it? No—I’ll make it happen.

If she says this I’ll do that, if she does that I’ll do this.
While thinking and swinging,
my grip must have weakened—
the sword flew out of my hand.

“Ugh…”

It rolled to a stop at Sylphie’s feet.
My mind went blank.
W-What do I say?

“W-What’s wrong, Rudy…?”

Sylphie’s eyes widened when she saw me.
What’s wrong? I got here too fast?

“Mm… fuu… nffuu…
I was sad because I couldn’t see cute Sylphie—teehee.”

“N-Not that—your sweat…”

“Haa… haa… Oh, sweat? What about it…?”

When I approached breathing heavily,
she backed away with a frightened face.
Same as always—she won’t let me get within a certain distance.

I’m so drawn to her,
yet she’s so repelled by me.
Just kidding.

“…”

Sweat drips from my forehead.

Now?
This timing?
My breathing’s steadied.
Yes.

I put my hand against the tree in a defeated pose.
Slumped my shoulders.
Let out a big sigh.

“Sigh… Sylphie’s been so cold lately…”

Silence stretched for a while.

Is this okay? Is this okay, Paul?
Should I act even weaker?
Or was it too obvious?

“!”

My hand was suddenly gripped from behind.
I turned—warm, soft sensation—
Sylphie.

O-O-O!
So close!
It’s been so long since Sylphie got this close!
Paul-san! I did it!

“Because… Rudy’s been acting kind of weird lately…”

Her words snapped me back.

Yeah.
I knew.
No need to be told—
I haven’t been acting the same as before.

From Sylphie’s perspective,
it must have been a complete change.
Like a marriage-hunting woman’s attitude flip
the moment she learns the guy’s rich.
Of course she wouldn’t feel good.

But then—how should I have acted?

Acting the same as before is impossible now.
She’s so cute—there’s no way I’m not nervous around her.

A young, same-age, cute girl.
I don’t know how to get close to someone like that.
If I were the adult and she were older,
or if she were more grown up—
I could mobilize all my eroge knowledge.
If I were in the big-brother position and she were a little sister,
I could use experience from my little brother.

But she’s a same-age little girl.
Of course I’ve played games involving getting sexual with kids that age.
But those are fantasies.

Besides—I don’t want that kind of relationship.
Sylphie is still too young.
She’s not in my strike zone.
For now, at least.
I’m looking forward to the future though!

Anyway.

She was a bullied kid.
When I was bullied, I had no allies.
So I want to be her ally.
Boy or girl—
that part doesn’t change.

But still—acting exactly the same is hard.
I’m a guy. I want to build a good relationship with a cute girl.
For the future!

…I don’t know.
What should I do?

I should’ve asked Paul that too…

“…Sorry. But I don’t hate you, Rudy.”

“S-Sylphie…”

When I made a pathetic face,
Sylphie patted my head.
It stung in a good way.
I’m clearly the one at fault,
yet she apologized.

“So… can you just be normal?”

That upward glance was powerful.
Powerful enough to make me resolve.

I resolved.

Right.
She wants normal.
The same relationship as before.
So I’ll act as normal as possible.
So she doesn’t get scared or flustered—
I’ll hide every trace of my maleness.

In other words—

I just have to become that.

I’ll become a dense protagonist.