"I met Simon Polentia yesterday."
The firewood cracked and popped, turning black in the flames of the campfire. Simon quietly watched the sight for a moment before speaking.
"That must have been nice."
"Why?"
"You’ve always looked forward to meeting him again."
"Hmm."
Meirin pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. Resting her chin snugly against her knees, she silently watched the burning firewood. The camp was loud with the boisterous voices of drunken revelers, but a calm, quiet bubble seemed to surround the two of them. After a moment, she lifted her chin and stared at Simon, a strange light flickering in her eyes.
"Simon."
"Yeah?" Simon replied.
"Simon."
"Yeah?"
"Si-mon."
"Uh, yeah?"
As Simon answered, bewildered, her gaze remained fixed on his jaw. It was vivid in her memory. How could she forget? She had lifted Simon Polentia’s helmet just enough to see that exact jawline.
The sharp, distinct cut of his jaw, the prominent Adam’s apple, the strong line of his neck. Just as she thought. ’It’s so similar.’
Meirin slowly looked up. Her friend, who suddenly looked a little broader, a little more reliable than usual, was giving her a nervous, sweaty smile. ’But.’ There was one crucial incident that proved Simon and Simon Polentia were two different people.
It happened during their first year, when she had gone to the neutral zone for a dispatch evaluation with their current group.
"Simon Polentia! Right?"
She had seen him with her own eyes back then, too.
"Who are you? Why do you always show up wherever we are? Say something...!"
At her demand, Simon Polentia had fled. Even then, Meirin had been intuitively certain that he was Simon, but...
"Meirin? I was worried because you suddenly disappeared. What’s wrong?"
Simon had appeared from behind her. Simon Polentia and Simon had been in the exact same place at the exact same time. (Truth was, it had been Erzebet transformed into Simon, but there was no way Meirin could have known that.) Thinking Simon might be an imposter, she had made him use Jet-Black, and just like always, his aura had been its signature dark blue.
Simon was Simon, and Simon Polentia was Simon Polentia. She had always believed that, so why did she keep... ’Why is my heart racing?’
She stared at Simon’s jaw. Blood rushed to her cheeks, and her pulse pounded in her ears. A tingling sensation brushed the bridge of her nose, and her mouth went completely dry. It was the exact same feeling she had when she first saw Simon Polentia’s face.
"What’s wrong, Meirin?" Simon asked with an awkward smile. "Your face is red."
"H-Huh? Oh! It’s nothing!"
She quickly turned her head away, cupping her hot cheeks. She couldn’t act like this. She had only meant to test the waters, so what was she supposed to do if she was the one getting flustered first?
’Calm down. Just calm down.’
She took a deep breath in and out, trying to soothe her racing pulse. However, her stubborn heart showed no signs of quieting. Her chest hammered against her ribs. Thank the gods no one else could hear how loud it was.
Squeezing her eyes shut to muster her courage, she whipped her head back toward Simon.
"A-Anyway, Simon Polentia saved me earlier."
"I’m glad you’re safe."
"The Eildar Hydra, or whatever it was called? Anyway, I lost consciousness while fighting that massive thing. Then, when I came to and opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was Simon Polentia’s face."
She stared at Simon, her gaze heavy.
"In that moment, I thought he was you."
Simon said nothing.
Meirin narrowed her eyes, determined not to miss a single micro-expression.
"For a second, your face overlapped with his, so I just naturally assumed it was you."
’Now, how are you going to react?’ She watched him intently.
However. Instead of panicking, a dark shadow fell over Simon’s face.
’Huh? What’s wrong with him?’ Meirin blinked. Simon tilted his head back, covered his eyes with his palm, and let out a long, heavy sigh. Then.
"I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice ragged.
"H-Huh?"
"I heard all about how much danger you were in."
Simon dragged both hands through his hair in self-reproach.
"While you and the first-years were risking your lives to save Professor Hongfeng and fight the hydra, I was pathetically pinned under collapsed rubble, completely out cold."
"Uh, what?"
"I’m supposed to be the Student Council President. I talked big about going to find Professor Hongfeng, but I couldn’t do a single thing! It’s a good thing Simon Polentia was there, or else you could have been killed."
He hung his head low.
"I’m... I’m truly the worst."
Seeing Simon blame himself so harshly for the first time in her life left Meirin more than a little flustered. Come to think of it. She remembered how he had acted when he was lying injured earlier. He had kept apologizing, saying how sorry he was for not being able to help.
Since he had gotten hurt while volunteering as bait to save them, the Student Council members had comforted him, insisting there was no need to apologize. But it seemed Simon was particularly hung up on his perceived failure. ’T-That makes sense. He must have felt a massive weight of responsibility as the Student Council President.’ Moreover, Simon had always played an active role and pulled his weight in any crisis.
This was probably his first time being so anticlimactically knocked out and missing a battle entirely. The shock must have been immense. He had to be incredibly frustrated. Simon had such a strong mentality and was so mature that she often forgot—but in the end, wasn’t he just an eighteen-year-old kid like her?
But what had she just said to him?
"Then, when I came to and opened my eyes, I saw Simon Polentia’s face. At that time, I thought Simon Polentia was you."
"For a moment, your face overlapped with his, so I naturally thought it was you."
Don’t tell me he took what I said as a criticism... ’He doesn’t think I was comparing him to Simon Polentia, does he?!’ Or maybe he interpreted it like:
"Aw, I totally thought it was you, but it was just Simon Polentia. What were you even doing while we were fighting?"
"Noooooo!"
Her face burning red to its absolute limit, Meirin shrieked and grabbed Simon’s shoulders.
Simon gasped in surprise.
Simon tilted backward and toppled over. Meirin practically pounced, pinning him to the ground as she shouted, her face bright red.
"No, you idiot! I just! I was just... um!"
Speechless for a second, she shrieked again.
"Y-You’ve always saved me whenever I was in danger, ever since our first year! So your face just naturally came to mind first! And it’s not just me—you’ve helped everyone else like that, too! So I just mistakenly thought it was you again this time! Don’t go attaching weird meanings to it, you dummy!"
Simon’s face flushed red. They were close—far too close. Above all, wasn’t this tangled posture prone to misunderstandings? Several locals drinking nearby were already giggling and pointing.
Looking so red she might drip crimson dye, Meirin shouted, tears of embarrassment welling up in the corners of her eyes.
"I’m always thankful to you! I consider you my savior! Do you really think I’d speak badly of you just because you missed one battle?! After all the time we’ve spent together, are you really getting depressed over slipping up in a single fight? I-I definitely didn’t mean it like that!"
She was rambling. It seemed Meirin herself didn’t even know what she was saying anymore. The onlookers who had tuned in halfway through whistled, clearly thinking it was a typical lovers’ quarrel.
"A-Alright! I get what you mean, Meirin! I’m sorry! F-First, just calm down..."
Simon hurriedly soothed her as he tried to sit up. ’I only acted a little upset because it felt like she was testing me.’ Simon blaming himself had been a tactical move. But since he was usually so dependable, seeing him blame himself so harshly had an immense, unintended destructive power on her emotions.
Simon had to sweat bullets and struggle immensely just to calm her down.
"A-Anyway! Um...!"
Meirin let out a heavy pant before wiping the corners of her eyes.
"I definitely didn’t say it with bad intentions!"
"Yeah, of course! I know."
Now he felt incredibly guilty. But fortunately, it seemed Meirin no longer suspected him of being Simon Polentia. It stung his conscience to deceive her like this, but he resolved to apologize to her properly someday in the future. Simon quickly changed the subject, bringing up the story of how Professor Hongfeng had devoured nearly fifty servings of food that morning.
"Well, look at you two getting cozy."
Just then, someone approached with a smirk. It was Professor Hongfeng’s direct disciple and a Combat Magic student, Kinter.
"Is today day one of your relationship or something?"
"It’s not like that, you idiot!"
Her face turning bright red once again, Meirin shrieked and threw a pebble at him. Kinter dodged with a shrug and looked at Simon.
"Anyway, I lost, Student Council President."
Simon had completely forgotten about it in the frantic aftermath of the battle. It seemed Kinter was talking about the bet they had made earlier. Kinter continued.
"A promise is a promise. I’ve decided to step down as Professor Hongfeng’s direct disciple. I’ll be submitting my department transfer application soon, too..."
"I heard what happened," Simon spoke up. "I heard you saved Professor Hongfeng at the end."
"Yeah, so what?"
"Thank you," Simon said with absolute sincerity.
At the time, Simon hadn’t been able to cover for Hongfeng, who had been in the worst condition, because he was busy severing the hydra’s head. He had been constantly worried about her even while fighting. It was a massive relief that the nearby Student Council members, the first-year trio, and the Combat Magic students had stepped in to help.
Kinter scrunched up his face as if he had just heard something bizarre. His expression clearly read: ’Why should I be thanked by you for saving my own advising professor?’
"And forget about the bet."
Kicking Kinter out of the Combat Magic Department for a brief moment of satisfaction would ultimately only harm Hongfeng. It would just needlessly deprive her of one of her students. There was no benefit in it for Simon, either.
"Haha, are you showing mercy?"
Kinter closed his eyes.
"But a bet is a bet. I’m stepping down as her direct disciple. I think I’m far too lacking to learn from Professor Hongfeng. And..."
Simon looked at him questioningly.
Kinter, who had been quietly staring into Simon’s eyes, squeezed his eyes shut and turned his back.
"Damn it. Never mind."
Simon didn’t go out of his way to stop him from stepping down as a direct disciple. Kinter waved a hand dismissively at the two of them as he walked away.
"Sorry for interrupting. Well then, enjoy your intimate time together."
"I told you it’s not like that, you idiot!"
Simon just smiled at Meirin’s screech.
The drinking party was in full swing. Even if they didn’t speak the same language well, they communicated easily through gestures and body language. Everyone was chatting and laughing boisterously, but... There was one person who remained entirely out of place, lingering alone.
It was Byulya. Slumped over a thick tree branch like a resting leopard, she was sipping alcohol all by herself. Having been exiled from the tribe due to an unsavory incident, she wasn’t exactly welcome to join in on a gathering like this. Hongfeng had mentioned taking Simon out to celebrate, so she had thought about using that as an excuse to go check it out.
But upon actually seeing the tribe members, she had found herself instinctively hiding in the shadows.
"Jeez. Why did I even come?"
She took a long swig from her bottle, then frowned, shaking it up and down. It was already empty. Smacking her lips, she was just about to get up and leave when—
"Aren’t you going down, zizter?"
A familiar voice rang out. Before she knew it, Hongfeng was walking along the tree branch toward where she was lying.
"What business does an exile have down there? But how did you know I was here? I was hiding my presence."
"I have my wayz of knowing."
"Damn little sister."
Byulya smirked.
"By the way, you brought my cutie to our hometown just to monopolize him? They say it’s always the quiet ones."
"Iz it true that Zimon doezn’t even take your clazzez anyway?"
"I’ll have to force him to take them next semester, even if I have to threaten him. Now that I know he’s such an incredible guy."
The two looked at each other and laughed. Soon, Hongfeng lay back, leaning against the branch next to Byulya.
"When we were young, we uzed to lie down together like thiz and look at the night zky."
"We did."
The two silently gazed at the moon in the sky for a moment. A comfortable silence stretched between them.
"At leazt go zee Father before you leave," Hongfeng gently suggested.
"No need."
Byulya coldly shook her head.
"You are exiled! Know that you shall never set foot on the lands of Marlat again!"
Their father, who was the village chief at the time, had commanded as such. It had been his decision to kick Byulya out.
"You know what Father said to me, right? I only came out of rebelliousness, but it just made me feel gloomy for no reason. I’m leaving fir—"
Hongfeng suddenly held something out. It was an old-looking wooden box. Byulya frowned.
"What is this?"
"It’z yourz. Open it."
’CLICK.’
She opened the box with an apathetic expression, but her face suddenly lit up.
"Hey! Don’t tell me this is...!"
"That’z right. It’z mare’z milk wine from the grazzlandz."
"Kyaha!"
Excited, she hopped up and down on the tree branch, sending a shower of leaves cascading down to the ground.
"As expected of my own blood! My little sister is the only one who takes care of me! I’ll enjoy this!"
"That’z Father’z."
Byulya froze.
"What?"
"Father made it."
Whenever Hongfeng returned to their hometown, she always chatted with their father. After a glass or two of alcohol, the topic of Byulya would naturally come up.
"How is she doing?"
Their father, who had retired from his position as village chief, would always start the conversation exactly like that. Then, Hongfeng would smile and tell him. At the time, it was before Byulya had been appointed as a Kizen professor. Hongfeng told him that Byulya was drinking like a fish, but had become a famous brawler in the back alleys.
Their father had laughed out loud.
"She takes after me in her love for alcohol."
"Zhe zaid zhe mizzez the mare’z milk wine zhe uzed to drink back home."
"Right, she used to dip her fingers into the jars of alcohol day in and day out, only to get drunk and scolded by her mother."
After they had that conversation, their father began brewing alcohol the very next day. He didn’t drink his favorite alcohol right away, but carefully brewed and aged it. Even when the tribe’s warriors eyed it greedily, begging for it on every festival day, he never opened a single bottle.
Several years passed like that.
"What nonsense," Byulya muttered, frowning.
"You’re only saying that because you don’t know how crazy Father is about alcohol. Do you really think he brewed this to give to me, someone who was kicked out of the tribe? He just made it for himself to drink...!"
"Look under the bottlez."
She still wore an apathetic expression, but Byulya did as she was told. There, carved into the bottom of the bottle, was a very small inscription. The handwriting was crooked. It was written in the clumsy Continental language that Hongfeng had taught him.
’For my eldest daughter.’
Byulya’s eyes trembled. All six bottles had the exact same thing written on them.
"At night, Father alwayz leavez the window open and zetz the bottlez on the windowzill before going to zleep."
Hongfeng smiled warmly.
"I brought them here."
Byulya said nothing.
A shadow fell over Byulya’s face. Gripping the bottle properly with a trembling hand, she popped the lid open with a soft squeak. A fragrant aroma tickled her nose. She slowly lifted the bottle to her lips and drank.
She swallowed heavily, her throat bobbing. After taking a massive swig, she lowered the bottle and let out a hearty laugh.
"Ah, this..."
Forcing her head to the side, Byulya quietly gazed at the night sky.
"It tastes like home."

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