(Quick Thinking is using the supercomputer’s power to perform calculations or mental analysis. This requires a great deal of mental effort and a huge expenditure of manan. At the moment, I can only use this quick thinking once a day .) After finishing reviewing the inscriptions, I confirmed that many of the runes we knew were misspelled or deformed. Dalia had terrible runic handwriting. (This is a disaster... but it can be fixed.)

After finishing making a copy of the book, look up.

●— I think you’re writing the sequence backwards. —

—Dalia— WHAT? — blinking several times, offended.

●— In this type of rune, you list the function first, then the purpose. But you’re doing it backwards. You’re writing “person” before “detect,” when it should be “detect person.” —

Dalia opened her mouth to reply, but stopped. She turned and checked her own work.

— Dalia — …It can’t be. I’ve always written them like that. —

●— You’ve been reversing the runes from the beginning. —

She frowned, picked up the book, and began to quickly scan it. Clearly, she was looking for more mistakes.

— Dalia — I guess you’re right. —

We spent a few minutes refining the runes we needed. Then, each of us took our tools and began working on our own magical lens. As we carved, the conversation became lighter.

Dalia told me she’d like to see a lake... or the ocean. She also mentioned her interest in dungeon exploration, although the mere thought of facing a monster terrified her. She also mentioned her passion for carving runes and learning about forging and metals. She loves reading, although books are expensive. She enjoys cooking with her Aunt Astrid and helping Joan or Peter with their homework. She didn’t have many friends. Just a few female friends. She hates fish, but she loves fruit and nut cakes.

(And she’s right to be afraid. Any creature outside the wall is a real danger. In this world, monsters do exist; it must be terrifying for her or anyone else who thinks about the outside of the wall.)

I limited myself to sharing a few things about myself. I told him I grew up on a farm with my family, and that I met Hunt when we fought over who was the best “hunter.” (I couldn’t tell him we’d actually compete for top grades in college .) I also mentioned how we used to make rudimentary traps and spears out of wood for our “expeditions.” (In a way, it wasn’t entirely a lie…)

Then she spoke of her childhood. Her voice became more measured, as if she were carefully choosing what to say. She told me how she was orphaned while traveling with her family (her mother, Astrid’s sister, her father, and her cousins, Durman and Astrid’s children) on their way to the capital to visit a duke, when they were attacked by giant wolves. She was the only survivor. Durman and Astrid adopted her and raised her as their own daughter.

He told it calmly, without drama. But his gaze was lost in the lens he was working on; I noticed he was avoiding some details. (I didn’t ask anything; I didn’t want to rub salt in that wound.) But suddenly, he stopped and snapped his fingers.

— Dalia — Wait a minute! If I’ve been carving the runes wrong until now... Then this might work! —

He dropped everything he was doing and ran out of the workshop. He soon returned, carrying a steel plate covered in marks.

—Dalia—Look at this. I wanted to make a portable magic stove, but I could never get it to work right. I always had problems with heat distribution… but if I was writing it wrong, then it all makes sense! —

I looked at his design. (The idea is good... but the method is a mess.)

●—Yes, of course. You’re right. But you’re doing everything wrong. —

Dalia turned around with a sour face.

— Dalia — And what do you know? You just learned about runes! —

●— What do you want to bet I can make a better design? —

Dalia narrowed her eyes defiantly.

—Dalia—Hmph. If you succeed, I agree to marry you. —

●— …I never said I wanted to marry you. —

— Dalia — What’s wrong? Don’t you think I’m pretty? Or am I not good enough for you? —

My brain short-circuited. I froze for a second. My breath caught in my throat.

%% (Neo got nervous and answered speaking in x2 or x3) %%

●— No, no, no! Of course you’re pretty. Very pretty. Gorgeous. I mean, yeah, obviously, evidently, anyone would say so… plus you’re smart, and you have a tone of voice that... that sounds good. And... and you carve runes, and... and you have a great smile. And pretty eyes. And... and a nice b—b… nice hairstyle! Or... or something like that. And... and... hands. Really good hands! I mean... firm, skillful... uh... fuck!

Dalia raised her eyebrow at me and started laughing. Then, she leaned closer and narrowed her eyes. She remained silent for a second, regarding me with a neutral expression…

— Dalia — HAHAHAHAHA!

She held her stomach as she laughed heartily, leaning forward. When she finally caught her breath, she wiped a tear from her eye and looked at me with a shy smile.

— Dalia — You’re lucky I liked you from the start... because, honestly, I don’t usually notice idiots. — Her lips curved into a playful smile as she looked me up and down, as if she were sizing me up.

— Dalia — But I guess even fools like you can be charming… although maybe it’s just because I enjoy seeing you flustered. —

●— But back to the important thing… if you win, what do you want? —

Dalia, still smiling, crossed her arms and looked at me mischievously.

— Dalia — Mmmm, If I win, you will be my servant for life. —

I pulled myself together, pretending all of that had never happened. I smiled sideways, trying to ignore the heat on my face.

●— Deal. — (I got carried away and accepted a stupid bet…)

The sound of tools and the soft sputtering of the forge. Every now and then, I looked up to see how Dalia was progressing, but every time I did, she seemed to be watching me too. The moment our eyes met, she quickly looked away, pretending to be absorbed in her work. I couldn’t help but smile slightly. Did she notice this strange tension too?

As we carved the runes, we both reached for the same tool at the same time. My hand brushed against his for just a moment before I quickly pulled away, feeling the heat rush to my face.

●—Y-You first—I stammered, quickly backing away.

Dalia just raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. She took the tool with a barely visible smile on her lips before returning to her work.

We remained silent, but the tension in the air felt different. At one point, we moved at the same time to adjust our pieces, and our backs briefly touched. A shiver ran through me, and I immediately pulled away, feeling my heart beat a little faster than normal. Dalia didn’t even flinch. Or so it seemed. (This girl is just too focused on her work.)

After several hours, fatigue began to take its toll. Finishing the final adjustments to her design, Dalia let out a long sigh and, without warning, slumped slightly backward, resting her weight against my back. I remained completely still, not daring to move.

— Dalia — Just a second… — she murmured, her eyes closed.

— Dalia — I’m exhausted. —

I swallowed, feeling the warmth of her body against mine. My mind screamed at me to move, but my body refused to obey. I forced myself to breathe deeply and not think about it too much. After all, it was only because I was tired… (right?) I got up carefully, afraid of waking her, and plopped down onto some sandbags in a corner of the workshop. After a few seconds, Dalia did the same, settling in next to me without much thought.

“Dalia, why does your uncle have so many sandbags?” I murmured, my voice heavy with sleep.

— Dalia — I think he said he wanted to try making glass things… — she replied, already half asleep.

●— … —

The conversation died away in whispers until sleep overtook us without us realizing it.