A Wish to Grab Happiness

Gallu Amalia, a training ground in the College.

This place, with dolls made of wood and light magic aids, is not always popular.

Naturally, only those who attend this college have the corresponding family or wealth. What many of them want is a foil, not witchcraft or swordsmanship, but a college native, and a connection with the upper class. Therefore, there is no first thing to encourage the training of swords and sorcery.

Only the girl who craves witchcraft and the other one go by here.

A double-edged sword that reflects sunlight and emits a white glow. Hert Stanley gently closed his lid while wiping away the slight dirt on it.

- Zuang.

That's a breathtaking flash. White cleaves the sunlight, and the stationary space, for a moment, disconnects. The surrounding wind burst, frightened by the sword muscle and rushed all the way around, returning to the original stream of air.

Hert's eyebrows dive slightly. He bit his back teeth gently and put on a light cut that today was not a good day.

If you look from the side, it's just a flash of genius. There is no element to pinch your mouth. But I can't hide the malaise from myself. No matter how cleverly you try to trick them, you can spot them yourself. Especially since a human being named Hert wasn't someone who could overlook it.

The slight turbidity revealed in the sword muscle, the flesh is full, then the reason is in spirit.

Helt thinks it's probably him, though he's wrapped up in his spirit. Doubts and ideas about it have been running around the brain since earlier. As I sheathed my sword, its golden, shiny hair tip swayed.

"Why do you look so stinky, Helt?"

When the idea in my head is it's time to start circling, my human body accidentally flies behind my helt. Even so, it's like being twisted, though it's such an entanglement.

"... Uncle, it's been a long time. uncommon, such as coming to the college"

When Helt looked back as if nothing had happened, he twisted his neck to say that the person had no affection.

"I'm here to see you. Otherwise, the only people who go through here are basin darknesses that you can't see ahead of you. Who wants to come?"

To much rhetoric, Helt accidentally gave it back with a bitter smile.

Buckingham Stanley. A person who will be Helt's uncle, living life with jokes and wine in one hand, a person who receives such acclaim from around him. He fell out of the Stanley family inheritance feud early, and at one time had a prodigal day like a player, but now he's bought the breadth and sociability of that legend and is involved in Stanley family diplomacy.

While there was something unreadable and floating about it, there were more people who liked its unique air than those who disliked it less seriously.

In fact, Helt doesn't hate Buckingham. Always looks out of place, but takes good care of him and is thick on his emotions. It is understandable that there are many admirers.

"Uncle, I have one stupid question for you. Is a human being capable of doing true good while keeping true malice lurking in his chest?"

Hence, Helt's consultations were more often zeroed toward this uncle than toward his strict and less approachable father.

Starting this morning, no, not exactly. Just after I escaped from that underground temple, there was a vortex-wrapping snake lurking behind Hert's brain. Helt understands who that is. An adventurer wearing green clothes, one who can't take evil or justice, Rugis.

Was Buckingham anticipating that call? Sit on the chair provided for the training area and poke your cheek wand. And I didn't think much, I said.

"I can, naturally. That's who we are. Let contradictions always be conceived in their breasts, and when they are lost, they become conceived again. Isn't that what human sexuality is, Hert?

To words like those with that certainty, a little face to face and Hert bites his lips.

Is that what it is? No, I do, and I think he was the embodiment of it. Hert narrowed his eyes as he stroked his chewed lips.

Actions that can be described as self-preservation that expose Fialert to extrajudicial conditions. But then you throw your own life into flames to protect the fialert, self-sacrificing actions that you can take. Spicy and good. Helt had to tilt his neck for that contradictory behavior at all costs.

If self-preservation is your first priority, you don't have to sacrifice yourself to help Fialert. If self-sacrifice comes first, there is no reason to stick extrajudicial conditions to fialerts.

I don't know. Helt didn't understand him as if he were a man named Rugis.

"If you look at me, Hert, you are less understanding. Oh, my God, it's not human. Sometimes humans make the exact opposite decision from their previous lives, with distressing, spitting, foolishly lost quotes. But look at you. You're the righteous one. Good intentions, you remember every fool. I'm going to do it."

However, Buckingham told him oddly pleasantly that it was a good thing that he had become troubled.

Trouble. If you ask me that, the one thing that bothered me about this is that maybe I didn't. Most things are good intentions or bad intentions. That's how I came to live. That's good, I didn't want to doubt it.

But he is. I can't allocate anything.

"Yes, human beings are troubled and grow for the first time. God made us to haunt humans. Come on, bless God! Thank you, for giving birth to this crucible of malice! It haunts us infinitely! Oh, thanks!

"... Uncle, do that again. I can't help being accused of heresy."

Words like heretics. It seems like a hoax of all times, but yet its voice color and eye color tell things as if they were true.

Which of this man's, Buckingham's words is a joke and which is genuine? I'm sure you won't even know that behind it.

But I'm pretty sure that's why there's a part of it that's suitable for diplomacy.

"Just kidding. It's a joke. Well, it's a helt. My uncle needs to go to the Garrist Kingdom now. That's why I'm here. I thought I'd come with you."

To the words, Helt unwittingly narrows his eyes. Words stare at boulders in excessive abruptness. Buckingham doesn't say it's impossible, and he goes on to say it.

"It stinks around here lately. My elder brother has no choice but to leave you alone for a little while. Not heretically, but the crests who were supposed to have fled east are strangely showing up."

You haven't heard such a story, or so Buckingham peeks into Helt's eyes.

Nothing, I'm not suspicious. Rather, he would be treading that he is more likely not to know. But it is clear in Hert's brain who the odor is. A group of armed crests, their strange degree of vigilance, and a woman called the Virgin.

We should talk about this here and now. That way my uncle would undoubtedly take himself to Garrist and the danger would leave. All I can feel is the smell, but being prepared can't be a bad thing.

But if I tell you, I can't stay here. If so, isn't there also an option not to mention it? Hert Stanley was stunned by the thought that had gushed out of him. That equals the first thought he has gained.

Good will and justice. To him, who has taken the path of life in reason of those two, there has never been a crossroads. If everything is done right, that's good.

But right now, there's a first crossroads here. Tell me everything and leave this place. Shut up and stay here.

You should talk. That should be someone named Hert Stanley. That's how you've lived. True, right. Even if you leave out the questions that have sprung up within you.

In the helt, the two wills seemed to be clashing repeatedly. The will that has arisen from within the helt, and the will that has arisen from righteousness and goodness, are at best compatible.

Oh, what's going on? Is this the problem? Is this what you call distress? A moment of hesitation, at its end, from Helt's mouth, a winner of the temple crawled out.

"... No, there was nothing, uncle. Yeah, noteworthy."

Originally. If I were who I was, Helt squeals all over my chest that I shouldn't have crapped such a decision. You just did what you thought was right.

But I think it would be a shameful act to call deception to cover up the impulse now born in this heart with a cloth named Justice.

Hence Hert Stanley's decision. Depositing your choices in the will that gushes out of you, not in justice and goodwill, and retaining yourself in Galuamaria.