"It was a treat"
To Ilaja, who tries to assist, "I appreciate the feeling, but there is a family lesson in my house that 'men over the age of three must not let women eat things from their hands'," he said appropriately and pressed off, trying to take away half the porridge and ate it. Because of that background, I could not praise it as "delicious" at will, but it was never a bad thing. Also, for the record, the porridge was at just the right temperature without having to bother to wake me up.
porridge and soup stewed with vegetables. Ilaja cleaned me up quickly when I greeted her after eating all I had left. I'm sorry I even let you do that.
"Was it delicious"
"Yeah.... well"
"That's good"
Put the bags you received from Soaran's hand inside the original paper bag.
When I asked her to leave it at the desk in the separate room, she moved without one disgusting face. I was curious to hear a "yah" voice... but I'm sure it would be fine because I didn't hear any dishes cracking.
Ilaja came right back. He asks me what I can do to help him, but I don't have a special job. Even the jewelry store told me to go and play, and I got a magic tool, a mirror, that I left on the edge of the room. This is a tool for using the magic of conversing with distant humans. In the very thin city of Liafiat, the magical potency will also be very weak, but with as much magic as Soaran, if there is a high degree of noisy audio, it can barely be communicated - that is -.
Anyway, looking at it, Soaran reminded her of one thing she should report back to.
"I kept in touch with Cokedier in the morning. That I'm sick here, that I'm a little late to go back."
"Did you say something"
"Especially. My job came out taking over, so I think I'll figure it out for a while, and the branch manager didn't say anything about this. Sounds peaceful."
"Any progress on the magic girl thing?"
- Ugh.
abruptly given that name, stuck in words for a moment, but
"... because I didn't say anything. I don't think so."
I managed to answer, not to be unnatural.
"Really?"
"Isn't it nice to have peace?"
Soaran laughs and replies to Ilaja's reply, which even sounds a little dissatisfied. "Right," replied Ilaja, pointing her lips.
White suited wizard, magic girl Nagi Tan. That is Soaran's face as a 'side business'. But I've been busy investigating a separate case for a while now, and I've completely lost track of your job. Where you want to go with that face, what you want to do, what you want, there's a lot of it. But I can't take the time to...
"But well."
That word reached my ear, interrupting my thoughts. Face up.
"Dear Soaran, I've been keeping you busy lately. Because of that, and you need to get plenty of rest. Sometimes forget about your work."
In Rear Fiat (here), magic, because you can barely use it, even if you want to. To Ilaja, who laughs like an aside, Soaran returns a loving laugh - yes.
Second, I tilted my neck.
"I guess I've been so busy"
That's the first time I tried not to show it to you.
... but why not?
"Yes."
She nodded confidently and laughed mockingly. Due to the inclination of the small neck, the straight platinum blonde shakes and the circle of light reflected in the hair collapses only slightly.
"I know, I know."
I understand. A slightly frowned, troubled way of laughing at Iraja answering. It seemed, by the looks of it, that he enjoyed wanting to cry out.
Why do you look like that?
But sooner than Soaran asked why, the look disappeared.
"What have you been so busy with?"
Whispering Ilaja Inquiry.
to Soaran who does not answer, after a little hesitation,
"As far as I'm concerned, it may not be something I can ask."
Yes, go on.
Soaran remained silent, slowly raising his head, and looked at the robe hung on the wall. Built to fit your back length, that is a common moulded robe that wizards wrap around - but only buttons embellished on the chest are of a different color than the normal wizard's. Decorating that button on your chest is our way of saying that you are in mourning.
Just one mediocre wizard, like what I've been putting on here lately, is something I don't need to know. Soaran knew that too. I don't even have to tell him. It's not what happens when I say it. But - as if it had been applied to the throat, to the heart, even lubricant.
That then slipped out in a whim.
"... of my fiancée,"
Um, about a strange, rare woman.
"I was looking into it."
"About Master Françoise?
Soaran was just a little surprised that the name came out of Ilaja's mouth.
"You knew very well. I can't believe that name."
I remember Ilaja coming in as an official after she was gone. But then I thought, "Oh, yeah." I'm sure some moderate or rumor-loving wizard told Ilaja. Ilaja knows about Soaran and her, about her death.
The suggestion was that Iraja lay her eyes down at first sight.
"... I know."
To that trick, Soaran...
I didn't say you were worried. [M] Even if I told you, Ilaja must be sad. Because she's very serious, and she's a sweet daughter.
"Dear Soaran"
I have a calm voice. Serious, only serious is a handle, too serious and always empty, Soaran heard her, without a back table, with a heart somewhere.
"... what was he like? Lady Françoise."
"That was an excellent woman, as a researcher. He was a well-respected opponent of the organization, but he was a good housekeeper, he had magical talent, and he was very proud to be 'me' -"
"Not so."
Ilaja, however, loosens up and waves the veil.
She asked Soaran this as she gripped her left hand over her leg with her right hand.
"From your eyes. … What was Françoise like?"
"My...?
Yourself, from the eyes.
One point, a wave rises in the mind that should have been calm. How many people have ever asked themselves about that woman like that?
At the same time, yesterday, at that jewelry store.
Turning to that floating shopkeeper, I remember the words I asked.
- Why are you protecting her?
It is a perfectly frightening question. - Sigh leaked.
I covered my eyes with too much shame, but did they think I was crying?
"Dear Soaran"
I heard a carefree, famous voice. But it's not. I am not immersed in heartache or anything. The world I lived next to her is already a place of the past for me. Now Soaran shook his blanket.
Llang. Soaran thought of that shop, which he hadn't called himself in a long time, about this city. Again, this city is out of hoops. Until I don't have to tell you, I talk. I let go of the hand that covered my face, looked at the palm of my hand, but as I imagined, I didn't have a drop of tears or anything. Where I thought of 'her', what I feel is that remembering is not clichéd grief, etc. -
When I gripped the futon with one empty hand, the wrinkles stopped without sound.
That is.... that woman.
"... she was an unusual woman."
And he talks.
About the girl who loved the jewels.
I couldn't protect her once, her story.