The memory of their first meeting surfaced in Eugene’s mind. After Vermouth had abruptly asked him to become comrades, Eugene had challenged him to test his skills — and lost miserably. He was defeated so thoroughly that he could find no excuses to make. It was an overwhelming loss. Barely, just barely, he had managed to nick Vermouth's collar, and for that, he had ended up face-first in the dirt.0

“I have….”0

It wasn't just that one time, either.0

“I’ve never beaten Vermouth. Not even once,” Eugene said.0

After becoming Vermouth's comrade, in the beginning, Eugene would pick fights and challenge him to duels whenever he got the chance.0

He didn’t ask to duel with Vermouth because he could win. Rather, he asked for a duel simply because he wanted to duel. Logically, he knew he would lose. He had come to a realization after becoming Vermouth’s comrade and fighting together with him. Even if he didn’t want to, he couldn’t help but realize it: that Vermouth was strong.0

Vermouth was so strong that Eugene, who had never considered himself inferior to anyone in combat, had to admit that the difference between them was like night and day. No matter how much he trained or gained experience, the gap between him and Vermouth did not seem to narrow.0

“Looking back, it makes sense that I never won. That bastard Vermouth had too many tricks up his sleeve,” Eugene grumbled.0

“The way you are complaining, everyone might think you had nothing up yours,” Sienna said while raising a finger. A sparkling light...0