The road back to Lost Claret felt lighter on the feet than yesterday. Perhaps it was the effect of the hot spring. At that rocky pool, the fatigue of three days seemed to have washed away cleanly. Sheryl had said something like "this is the refinement of adult travel," but honestly, she wasn't entirely wrong. However. Leon gently pressed his left hand over the glove. The stigma was pulsing more quietly than this morning. Ever since Sheryl traced it with her fingertip yesterday, it felt somehow more settled. It might be his imagination. But it might not be. The emerald green hair of Luna walking ahead swayed gently in the morning breeze. "...Has something changed since Sheryl touched the stigma yesterday?" Luna asked quietly, still facing forward. The words posed through her back were filled less with probing and more with genuine concern. He could tell from the tone of her voice alone, not from her pale violet eyes. "It's a bit calmer. I'm not sure why," Leon replied. "It might be the lingering effect of the calming barrier," Sheryl said. Sheryl came to walk beside Leon. Her lustrous mahogany hair cascaded over her shoulder, and a sweet fragrance of aromatic wood drifted softly. The scent hadn't faded even after leaving the hot spring yesterday. It was the kind of fragrance that seemed to have seeped into her very body. "Does the calming effect work just from touching?" Leon asked. "It's not a full-fledged barrier, but weak stabilization does occur through contact. If the stigma has calmed down a bit, that's probably why," Sheryl said. A calming barrier—a mental stabilization type of magic that Sheryl specialized in, a technique that suppressed the target's rampaging magical power from the outside. Normally it required aromatic wood powder as a catalyst and about thirty seconds of incantation. However, in Sheryl's case, from years of use, weak magical power constantly flowed through her fingertips, and she had mentioned before that it could sometimes work just from touching without conscious effort. She said it casually, a small smile forming at the corner of her lips. Her beauty mark became more prominent. Her amber eyes always held a somewhat provocative light, and Leon couldn't quite meet that gaze, turning his eyes back to the mountain path ahead. Luna's fingertips trembled slightly. "Doesn't a calming barrier require aromatic wood as a catalyst?" Luna asked. "When using it as a technique, yes. But in my case, from using it for so long, weak magical power constantly flows through my fingertips. Even without thinking about it, it affects whoever I touch, just a little. It's like an occupational hazard," Sheryl said. "I see," Luna replied shortly, turning forward again. But her fingertips continued to tremble for a while. --- When the gates of Lost Claret came into view, Sheryl suddenly spoke. "Hey, let's just report on the request today and take the rest of the day off. I want to eat at the Sooty Corner Lamp for the first time in a while," Sheryl said. The Sooty Corner Lamp—a wooden tavern and inn standing across from the Adventurer's Guild "Light of the Journey" Lost Claret branch. The "Light of the Journey" was an organization that handled all request mediation and information management for adventurers in this city, and the Sooty Corner Lamp across from it had supported adventurers' stomachs for many years. Their specialty, goat meat stewed in black beer, was known as the most filling dish in Lost Claret. "I don't mind. What about you, Luna?" Leon asked. "I agree as well. I'll join you after organizing the report," Luna said. It was an unexpectedly straightforward answer. --- After finishing a simple report at the Adventurer's Guild branch, the three scattered. Leon stopped by his residence to change his gloves and reconfirmed the state of the stigma. The outline of the emblem seemed slightly clearer than yesterday. As Sheryl had said, the more it was used, the more it became established. (I still can't control it.) That was a fact. But recalling the conversation at the hot spring yesterday, he had been strangely calm in that moment. The heat of the stigma had quieted, leaving only the warmth of Sheryl's fingertip. ...Why was he remembering such a thing? Leon tapped his glove with his right hand to clear his head and went outside. --- When he opened the door to the Sooty Corner Lamp, a bell chimed. At this hour before evening, about half the seats were filled. The low laughter of adventurers, the creaking of wood, the smell of burnt butter and meat juices drifting from the kitchen. The familiar atmosphere of the shop made his shoulders relax just a little. Sheryl was already there. She sat by the window, resting her cheek on her hand while gazing outside. Her mahogany hair caught the evening light and appeared slightly reddened. "You're late," Sheryl said. "It hasn't even been five minutes," Leon replied. "It feels late to me," Sheryl said. What did she mean by "feels late"? Leon pulled out the opposite chair and sat down. After a while, Luna came in. Still in her guild uniform, with a shoulder bag slung across her body. Her long emerald green wavy hair spread for a moment in the wind from the door, drawing the gaze of several people in the shop. Her pale violet eyes, characteristic of the fairy race, swept across the shop once, softened when they found the two of them. "Sorry to keep you waiting," Luna said. "Did the report go well?" Leon asked. "The branch director, Helda, confirmed it for me. The abandoned mine is all clear, she said," Luna replied. The three ordered goat meat stewed in black beer. Along with bread, Sheryl ordered ale, while Luna and Leon ordered water. For a while, it was quiet. While waiting for the food, each of them gazed around the shop or looked at their own hands. It was a comfortable silence. It was Sheryl who broke it. "Hey, Leon," Sheryl said. "What?" Leon replied. "I want you to let me examine the stigma in more detail. This time properly, with a catalyst and a proper calming barrier," Sheryl said. "It's calm now," Leon said. "It's easier to examine because it's calm now. It'll be too late if it goes berserk. Besides..." Sheryl paused slightly. There was caution in her tone, different from her usual banter. "The pattern of the stigma is changing. I told you the establishment progresses with each use. If we can determine the speed of that change, we can better predict what happens next," Sheryl said. Luna pulled a sheet of paper from her document bag. "I found this in the guild's archives. A copy of an old text that mentions the stigma of sacrifice," Luna said. The stigma of sacrifice—a trace of a forbidden-near technique where the caster consumed their own lifespan as fuel for magical power. The guild archives were a document room established within the "Light of the Journey" branch, where old manuscripts and investigation records brought by adventurers from various places were stored. From the way the yellowed paper was folded, one could somewhat tell that Luna had been searching for it during her report organization today. Fine ancient script was written across it. Luna's fingertip carefully pointed to a part of the text. "As you know, it states that the fuel is the caster's lifespan rather than magical power consumption. However, this text has an addendum—there is a record that as the stigma's use is repeated, the caster's emotional control becomes difficult," Luna said. "Emotional control," Leon said. "Combat impulses, and..." Luna paused for a moment. Her fingertips' trembling became slightly more pronounced. "An amplification of desire, it says," Luna said quietly. The weight of the content and the carefulness of conveying it seeped into the short sentence. Leon looked at his own left hand. The stigma pulsed beneath the glove. Desire. The word echoed quietly in his head. The sensation of Sheryl's fingertip tracing across him at the hot spring's rocky pool. The moment he didn't know where to look. Was that the influence of the stigma, or something that came purely from within himself? He couldn't tell the difference. No, that was the problem. Not being able to tell the difference itself. Sheryl tilted her ale cup and spoke casually. "Well, you were prepared for it, weren't you? You knew what kind of thing it was from the start," Sheryl said. "I was prepared. But preparation and control are different things," Leon said. "That's why we're here," Sheryl said. Her tone was oddly light. But Leon understood that lightness was intentional. She was maintaining the space with just the right amount of pressure so it wouldn't become too heavy. That was the kind of woman Sheryl was. Luna folded the document and looked at Leon quietly. "Can I ask you something?" Luna said. "Go ahead," Leon replied. "When you heard that desire would be amplified, what did you feel?" Luna asked. Her eyes were serious. Her pale violet irises didn't waver, capturing Leon directly. She wasn't blaming him. She wanted to know as information. Because he understood that, Leon couldn't bring himself to make excuses. "...I'm afraid of not being able to tell the difference," Leon said. "Whether it's your own emotion or the stigma's influence," Luna said. "Yes," Leon said. Luna was silent for a moment. Sheryl opened her mouth then. "Hey, wait a second. We've been talking seriously this whole time, and the food's going to get cold," Sheryl said. Right on cue, a server brought a tray. The goat meat stewed in black beer was placed before all three. From the well-cooked meat's cross-section, juice seeped out, and steam rose carrying the mixture of black beer's bitterness and beast meat's umami. "We can talk while we eat," Luna said. "I agree with that," Leon said. Sheryl exaggeratedly shrugged her shoulders and picked up a spoon. "Really, you two are terrible adults, bringing work to the dinner table," Sheryl said. "Says you," Leon said. Sheryl laughed. Her beauty mark became prominent. A low, soft chuckle, and a regular adventurer at the next table glanced over for a moment. Luna's mouth also turned up slightly, just barely. --- When the meal had settled down, Luna spoke quietly. "I want to participate in the stigma examination as well. If something happens while Sheryl is casting the calming barrier, we need someone who can respond with a sword," Luna said. "That's...appreciated, but it's dangerous," Leon said. "I know," Luna said. Her voice was without hesitation. The trembling of her fingertips had stopped. Leon had come to recognize this as Luna's face when she had made up her mind, in just these few days. Sheryl looked between Leon and Luna alternately. Then she slowly reached out and gently wrapped Leon's left wrist. A light contact over the glove. "Let's try tomorrow. I'll cast a proper barrier and observe the stigma's reaction. You'll practice control, I'll use the technique, and Luna will hold her sword," Sheryl said. Her fingertip was warm. The stigma responded, pulsing faintly. Leon looked at Sheryl's hand resting on his wrist. Beside him, Luna's gaze had fallen to her cup. Her fingertips trembled slightly. (Is this the stigma's influence, or...) There was no answer. Probably not for a while. But in any case, for tonight. The goat meat was delicious. That much was certain. --- As the night deepened, the three left the shop. Moonlight fell thinly on Lost Claret's stone pavement. The rusted hook-claw-shaped ruin in the city's central plaza—the remnant of the ancient structure that gave the city its name—glowed dully in the moonlight. At the fork in the road where they would part to their respective lodgings, Luna stopped. "I want to confirm something," Luna said. "What?" Sheryl asked. "Sheryl. Yesterday at the hot spring, when you touched Leon's stigma...was it really just to test the calming effect?" Luna asked. In the quiet night, that question resonated