Shuna's voice lingered in the back of Kirihara Setsuna's ears. 　Raika—that child, she's fond of you. 　It had been a whisper, barely audible, yet it refused to fade even as morning came. Setsuna climbed the stone steps of the Memorial Management Bureau, and as if to chase the voice away, she drew her left shoulder inward with a single tight squeeze. The old scar on her left shoulder responded dully to the cold morning air. It was proof that autumn was deepening. 　She had decided: today, she would change work sectors. 　That was all. There was no special reason—or so Setsuna told herself. The southeastern section had more unsorted personal effects remaining, so it was a practical decision. She wasn't avoiding Raika. She simply needed to arrive an hour earlier than usual. That was all. 　The scorched earth in early dawn was veiled in thin mist. 　The ashen ground stretched endlessly within the haze. Shadows of broken trees drew black lines through the white fog. The soil beneath her feet was hard and compact from last night's cold, and each step produced a dry sound. No one was there. Only the sound of wind. 　In that silence, Setsuna felt relief. 　—Why wasn't she relieved that he hadn't come? 　The question flickered through her mind, and Setsuna bent toward the rubble. Don't think. Move your hands. Wrap one item in cloth. Record it in the ledger. Move to the next one. That was enough. 　On the first day, Raika did not come. ＊ 　On the morning of the second day, even though she had changed sectors, Raika stood silently beside her. 　Setsuna noticed because a shadow stretched to her side. Before she could turn around, the presence of his tall frame had already altered the quality of the air. Black hair with red mesh, short and slightly tousled. Eyes like burning deep crimson vertical slits gazed downward. He said nothing—not how he'd found out about the sector change, not a reason, not an excuse, not an apology. Nothing at all. 　He simply grabbed a wooden crate and walked toward the cart. "[cold]One person is sufficient for today" 　Raika looked at Setsuna for one second. His deep crimson eyes met her blue ones directly. Then he turned his gaze forward again. He did not stop walking. 　It was a rejection expressed through the absence of response. 　The third day was the same. 　On the fourth day, Setsuna no longer changed her arrival time. 　She couldn't quite put the reason into words. Simply—she had no desire to change it. Raika's repetition came without excuses. There was no demand for gratitude, no attempt to close the distance, nothing. He was simply there each morning, carrying heavy things, walking in silence. That fact alone accumulated, day after day. 　The reasons for rejection were slowly being eroded away. 　During work that day, Setsuna found a personal effects bag beneath the remains of a half-collapsed stone wall. The stone's edge was sharp, and the angle for inserting her arm was difficult. The moment her fingertips tried to catch hold, the weight balance shifted and the bag began to slip. 　A large hand supported it from below. 　It was Raika's hand. Without a sound, he had lowered himself and was supporting the bottom of the effects bag from beneath the stone wall. His strength was precisely calibrated, the angle considered so as not to damage the items—clumsy in appearance, yet genuinely thoughtful. 　Setsuna's mouth opened reflexively. 　The word "thank you" reached the underside of her tongue and stopped. 　She didn't know why she stopped. Some resistance within Setsuna herself—a thin resistance to acknowledging that she had relied on someone. 　Setsuna silently took the bag and wrapped it in cloth. Raika had already stood and was moving toward the next work area. ＊ 　Following the post-war reconstruction, Tempest continued detailed adjustments to a trade treaty with the Ingrassia Kingdom. The main agenda concerned supply routes for building materials and food necessary for rebuilding the southern scorched zone. The Tempest government office served as the contact point for these negotiations, and Shuna attended as the office's representative. 　The conference room was on the first floor of the government office—a modest space with a long wooden table set within stone walls. Through the window, reconstruction-in-progress sectors were visible, and the sound of construction hammers echoed distantly. Shuna methodically confirmed with the Ingrassia Kingdom's diplomatic representatives across from her the timing and cost allocation for material transport. 　Tooyama Kei sat as the liaison. 　A young man with silver hair tied back, dressed in dark blue diplomatic attire, took notes with a quill pen and occasionally spoke. His words were precise, his emotions concealed. His speed in grasping the flow of discussion was quick, and Shuna judged him adequate as a counterpart. 　Yet—when she noticed it the second time, Shuna tilted her attention slightly while keeping her expression unchanged. 　Kei was asking questions about the working environment at the personal effects recovery site during breaks in the agenda. 　The first time was "What safety standards are established for recovery personnel working in dangerous zones?"—a natural inquiry about the system. The second was "Are assigned sectors fixed for each recovery worker?" The third was "What support systems does the bureau have in place for the psychological burden on individual recovery personnel?" 　Three times in the margins of the agenda. 　Not an interest in the system itself. Shuna recognized it immediately. The way the questions were targeted wasn't to grasp the system as a whole, but to focus on individual workers—on someone specific. 　When the meeting ended and they stepped into the corridor, Shuna walked alongside Kei. "[gentle]You seem quite interested in the personal effects recovery operations" 　Kei answered without breaking stride. "[serious]I feel I know too little of the actual site to make proper judgments from documents alone" 　That was all. 　Shuna smiled. She did not press further. Walking across the stone floor of the corridor, something moved quietly behind that smile. 　Jealousy of Raika—that clumsy, straightforward man—already existed. The way he stood silently beside Setsuna spoke more eloquently of his feelings than any words could—and each time she witnessed it, something pricked at Shuna's chest. 　But today, a second person had entered the picture. 　The nature was different. Raika's feelings were direct, emotions seeping through his body. Kei's interest was like numbers hidden behind documents, concealed behind courtesy and intellect. Shuna could not judge which was more formidable. Yet—she understood clearly that two emotions were burning simultaneously in her chest. 　She did not want to give Setsuna to anyone. 　That core of emotion, for the first time today, revealed itself to Shuna with clear and definite contours. ＊ 　That same afternoon, a warning was issued from the Memorial Management Bureau. 　A swarm of Ash Wolves had been confirmed in the southeastern sector of the southern scorched zone. Magical density had temporarily risen, and the natural generation of low-level monsters was increasing—therefore, the relevant sector would be designated as dangerous for the time being. Other recovery workers began their evacuation. 　Setsuna did not move. 　Three items of personal effects remained uncollected. She had confirmed them in the ledger. Whether there were bereaved families was unknown, but that was no reason to abandon them. "[cold]I will finish shortly" 　She told the goblin recovery worker beside her, who made a troubled face and said nothing more. As everyone evacuated, only Setsuna remained. 　Raika offered to provide escort. "[serious]I'm coming with you" "[cold]I will be fine alone" 　A brief refusal. Raika watched Setsuna for a moment. Then he stood with his arms crossed, about three meters away. 　Even without permission to escort her, he would not leave that place. 　Setsuna did not look at Raika. She continued her work. ＊ 　It was the afternoon of the next day. 　In a corner of the scorched earth where rubble lay piled, Setsuna confirmed the remains of a personal effect half-hidden in a stone's shadow, bent down, and extended her arm. The wind had stopped. There was no mist, but thick clouds covered the sky, and the light was thin. 　Behind her, gravel shifted faintly. 　Before she could turn around. 　Two Ash Wolves burst from the rubble's shadow. Gray fur, exposed claws—in the instant one leaped from behind toward Setsuna's neck. 　A heavy collision sound. Thud. 　Raika had moved between them. He cut down one beast and deflected the other's claws with the outside of his left arm—a red line ran across the outside of his arm. Shallow. But a definite wound. After felling the monster, Raika turned around. "[serious]Are you hurt" 　Setsuna did not answer. 　She was looking at Raika's left arm. Red was seeping slowly through the sleeve of his outer coat. Not a large amount. But the moment she saw that red color, something stopped within Setsuna. 　Someone else was wounded. Because of me. 　Her body moved before her mind could catch up. She pulled bandages from her supplies and walked toward Raika. Raika said nothing. He silently extended his arm. 　Setsuna's fingertips trembled faintly. 　The fingers holding the bandage's edge would not obey. She had done wound treatment countless times. But now, these fingertips—like the moment a comrade fell, they trembled. For three months, she had killed her emotions, yet her body responded with honest truth to the color of Raika's blood. 　Slowly, she wound the bandage. One wrap, then another. 　Raika never looked away from Setsuna's face. Quietly, steadily, watching as one observes something simply present—he looked directly at Setsuna's downturned face. 　Setsuna was aware of it. Aware, yet she never met his eyes. That was all she could manage. She could do nothing more. 　She tied the bandage. It was finished. Setsuna released her hand. 　Just before releasing it, the warmth of Raika's arm remained in her palm. ＊ 　There was a gaze watching that scene from above. 　Tooyama Kei stood atop a small hill that branched off from the inspection route, continuing toward Jura Lake. Wind stirred his silver hair. Gold and silver heterochromatic eyes gazed toward the scorched earth. 　Even from a distance, the space between the two was clear. Setsuna's hand was touching Raika's arm. That single fact—collapsed everything Kei had carefully organized with reason within his chest in one breath. 　He knew that as a diplomat, emotions had no place in such matters. He had only wanted to understand the site, to confirm what documents could not show—the words he had told himself now rang hollow. 　It was jealousy. 　Not vague interest, but clear, well-defined jealousy. The moment he recognized it, Kei noticed that the habitual smile at the corners of his mouth had vanished. 　Kei stood there for a while. Only the wind blew. ＊ 　At dusk, lights came on in the Memorial Management Bureau's main building. 　Galf, the director of the Memorial Management Bureau, gathered all recovery workers in the first-floor reception room. Galf was a goblin of the administrative class, a small figure in formal attire who adjusted his glasses once before unfolding a document. His voice was matter-of-fact—that of a man who had kept a bureau of approximately fifty staff members running through practical work. "[serious]Next Thursday, we will conduct final recovery operations in the deepest sector of the southern scorched zone" 　The reception room stirred. 　The deepest sector—the location of Tempest's final decisive battle. The place where the most bodies and personal effects lay uncollected. Until now, magical density had been abnormally high, and the area had been off-limits. Galf continued his explanation. According to measurements, the dens