Chapter 7

My life has not been smooth sailing.

When I saw the pickpocket child off, I remembered how I had been beaten half to death for doing the same thing when I was little.

Since then, I have tried to be more cautious and act more quickly, and I think that incident had a significant effect on me.

I wondered if that boy might lose his life someday because I didn't beat him up here, and I ended up saying that out loud somehow.

She, a dark elf with memory loss, who speaks little and rarely changes her expression, must have thought something when she heard it.

When she didn't respond, I glanced at her face, but I still couldn't tell what she was thinking. Maybe she didn't hear me, but she did seem to be thinking about something.

I hope she doesn't have a bad impression of me, and I realize my strange attachment to her again.

I don't even know why I take such good care of her or why I care about her likes and dislikes.

Maybe I feel guilty about losing control of my bladder during the surge of magic and think about using her weakness to my advantage or trying to make her indebted to me.

Perhaps because I grew up in an underprivileged environment, I'm not the type to shy away from such choices. But I feel that if I were to do such a thing, it would be quicker to take her to a back alley and strike when she's off guard.

The reason I don't do that might be because her appearance when she controls the magic is beautiful, or maybe I instinctively fear the flow of magic that scorches her skin.

Even though it's about myself, I still can't understand it.

I always mock indecisive people in my heart, but my own ambiguous and unstable feelings are annoying.

Because of this, when she directly asked me about my purpose, I ended up spouting unconvincing words as if to cover up. Even when I tried to explain that there are other aspects, she shook her head silently.

As I kept making excuses to her, who seemed unsatisfied, I realized something strange.

Maybe I really fell in love with her at first sight.

A pathetic truth that doesn't seem to fit with my past of having many women slipped out of my mouth. It all made sense.

But she responded with a heartless remark.

"Don't get your hopes up."

Her serious face is still hard to read.

You really are a complete bedwetter.

The laughter of self-mockery leaked out, both above and below.

The moment I realized my first love was rejected, I must have looked quite pathetic. Ever since I met her, my composure has been completely shattered.

I thought that might be part of her charm, and I probably fell in love with her completely and irreversibly.