“Acting as a hero?”

“Yeah.” Lyla placed her hand on Zich’s forehead and said, “You don’t have a fever.”

She took a potion from the magic box and looked at Zich caringly like a mother. “Here, why don’t you drink this first? Then we can go visit a priest or a doctor.”

“…I understand what you are saying, but I’m not hurt.”

“A patient doesn’t know what illness he has. Let’s talk after you drink that.” Lyla kept pushing the potion bottle into Zich’s hand. Zich scowled and lightly pushed her hand away.

“I told you I wasn’t sick.”

“There’s no way you would say that if you weren’t sick.” Lyla was firm even at Zich’s strong denial. Then, she wondered to herself, ‘Did Marilyn’s betrayal shock him too much?’ Worry filled her face. Knowing what she was thinking, Zich let out a light sigh. Thinking that this ridiculous misunderstanding would not be settled if he didn’t talk, he quickly spoke up. 

“Don’t worry. I’m not saying this for some absolutely skin-crawling, dreadful reasons like ‘to enforce justice into this world’ or ‘save all the unfortunate souls in the world.’”Hearing words that finally befitted him, Lyla relaxed slightly. 

“Then, what’s your reason for...