Bermuda

Watching this scene, Flynn somehow couldn't approach any closer. He had a strange feeling that he shouldn't be in this place right now.

He stood still, needlessly clasping his hands together and scratching the back of one hand with his nails, then absently pressing at his skin. He kept his gaze on the floor, racking his brain for what to say. It was behavior that came out when he didn't know what to do.

However, in the space filled with silence, even those small gestures sounded loud. Because of this, Flynn stopped and quietly raised his head again.

The two bloodless faces, like taxidermied pictures, painfully constricted his chest. Flynn's eyebrows, which had been pretending to be composed, unconsciously furrowed.

'No, this is when I need to pull myself together even more.'

The warm temperature and soft lighting didn't fill the emptiness that permeated this place. Rather, it made the two people before his eyes look even more precarious, so Flynn pushed aside his troubled feelings and made an internal resolution.

As the medical officer had said, there wasn't a single uninjured spot on either of their bodies. Among them, the poison spread across Leonardo's left shoulder and the Commander's rib fractures and internal injuries were particularly severe. Moreover, although it wasn't very visible from the outside, he had heard that both had fluid accumulated in their abdominal cavities. The amount was quite significant, and most of it was blood that had flowed from their organs.

But beyond the accumulated physical damage, the scars of the long battle must have been deeply etched in both of their minds as well. Although Flynn had witnessed countless horrors of battle while traversing the peninsula, from the news coming in from the front lines now, what he had seen was just a drop in the ocean of the horrific reality.

So that must be why the Commander wore such an expression. In the end, he needed to pay more attention.

Flynn, who had been hesitating, clenched his fists tightly. Having composed himself, he cautiously voiced the words that had been lingering on his tongue.

"Um, Commander."

His voice flowed softly, cutting through the silence. For something that came out after hesitation, it was surprisingly calm.

However, the person Flynn called showed no reaction for a while afterward. Thinking he couldn't have not heard, Flynn looked at him with a puzzled gaze.

A moment later, just as he was about to call out once more, thinking he really might not have heard, Hugo's eyelids, which had seemed frozen, moved slowly. His blue eyes, slowly lifting, shone with a mysterious color mixed with the orange light. Those eyes—simply rolling to look at him without turning his head—looked quite fierce, perhaps because his head was bowed.

Although he was a superior Flynn had served for a long time, even Flynn's mouth went dry in that moment. Swallowing hard, he soon opened his mouth carefully, his expression and tone worried.

"I heard it's not good to keep sitting. Please lie down, even if just for a moment."

At Flynn's words, Hugo, who had been staring ahead in silence, lowered his eyes again without a word. Yet he nodded slightly. It meant he understood, but he didn't actually move.

Although it was expected, Flynn couldn't help but sigh. The Commander had been like this since they first arrived here.

Even while Leonardo's emergency surgery was taking place, and when he occasionally regained faint consciousness, the Commander had devoted himself to soothing and comforting him to an extent that made onlookers blush. From morning until now, late at night, he hadn't rested even once.

But Hugo's face, looking down at Leonardo, seemed so dark and pained that Flynn didn't dare add any more words. Although he didn't know the details of what had happened, it seemed the Commander was blaming himself for Leonardo's hypothermia.

As everyone was too exhausted to ask about the situation, Flynn finally decided to do what he could first.

"...I'll go outside and get more medicine and bandages. I'll be right back. Please rest."

After saying this, Flynn bowed his head slightly. He turned around without waiting for an answer. He hadn't expected one anyway, so he quickly approached the door.

At that moment, Hugo's voice—hoarse and even lower than before—caught at Flynn's shoulder.

"Flynn."

"Yes?"

Flynn reflexively stopped and answered. As he immediately turned around, his eyes met the Commander's, who had raised his head. There was no particular expression on his face, but at least it seemed more relaxed than when they'd met earlier.

Hugo, blinking slowly, offered a short phrase instead of a long speech.

"Thank you."

Flynn's lips twisted helplessly again at those words.

Whether it was for tactfully leaving to get medicine, or for being considerate of his tired superior by sparing words, it wasn't clear what, exactly, he was thankful for. But with just that one phrase, Flynn could understand Hugo's feelings.

Seeing him say such words with a face more strained than Flynn had ever seen before, Flynn instinctively looked up, feeling like he might burst from what he'd been holding back.

After his eyes roamed like that, and the silence felt long, he lowered his gaze again. Then, just slightly curling the corners of his mouth, he forced a smile.

"Yes, I'll be back."

Having never cried in front of him since childhood, Flynn hurriedly gathered his choked emotions and turned around. However, the low voice, sounding as if echoing in a cave, added words as if the business wasn't finished yet.

"Has the 3rd Battalion completed their return?"

At this unexpected question, Flynn turned back to Hugo, his hand on the doorknob. As "3rd Battalion" naturally brought one person to mind, Flynn briefly searched his memory for whether he had seen Meterion. However, perhaps because things had been so hectic, he couldn't remember clearly, so he scratched his cheek and answered uncertainly.

"Uh... I think some personnel have returned... but since the exact headcount isn't clear yet, I'll check on my way out and report back."

Hugo seemed to think about something for a moment, then gave a small nod.

"Alright, off ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) you go."

Flynn gave him a simple bow and quickly went outside.

Tak—

The door closed again, cutting off the outside air. A chilling silence filled the warm interior.

Hugo's gaze, which had lingered on the door for a while, returned to Leonardo as it had been doing all day. If even a small noise leaked in, it would be difficult to hear the faint breathing. He didn't know if Flynn had left the place empty knowing this, but he at least knew Flynn had gone out on purpose.

Left alone, Hugo carefully grasped Leonardo's wrist, slipping his hand inside the bedding. The faint but clear pulse indicating life gently soothed Hugo's stiff body and mind. Whenever uncontrollable anxiety surged, he found reassurance like this. It was ironic—that an unconscious person was giving him reassurance.

'Still less than 50 beats per minute. There's a long way to go.'

Hugo closed his eyes tightly, then opened them with a low sigh. The slow pulse, unsuitable for his age, made him anxious, as if it could stop at any moment.

One might expect him to at least furrow his brow once while looking down helplessly like this, but Leonardo showed no movement, his eyes gently closed. As if he were really dying.

But earlier, when they were cutting his shoulder skin and removing the poison, he had shown not only pain but intermittent seizure symptoms. Compared to that, his face now, though lifeless, looked peaceful, so Hugo convinced himself this must be part of getting better.

He let go of Leonardo's wrist and once again neatly arranged the bedding. Then, closely examining his complexion, he slowly stroked his white forehead and both cheeks with his fingertips. But occasionally he would hesitate, withdrawing his hand and interlocking his fingers to warm his palms.

He was worried that the cold his instincts created to protect his body might actually be poison to Leonardo. In fact, his mana had succeeded in stabilizing him when he was on the verge of going berserk, but at the same time, it had become another poison threatening him.

His eyelids, cast in shadow, were stained with deep emotion.

"I want to protect you properly, but it's not going as I wish."

Hugo muttered to himself, lowering his eyes as if confessing his inner thoughts. Fierce blood vessels stood out on his interlocked hands.