"Where are you from?" Nita asked.
Her ginger hair was tied into its usual messy braid, and the thick-rimmed glasses perched on her nose caught the light from the tall windows.
"Huh?" Melina looked up from her bowl. The dining hall was empty except for them. They sat across from each other at a long, worn wooden table polished smooth by years of use.
"Oh, uh… from a small village. Thornburry," Melina said quietly.
Nita's face lit up at once.
"Really? Same! I'm from a small village too!" she said, leaning forward with bright enthusiasm.
Melina blinked, then nodded faintly. "How long have you been with Ophelia and Victor?"
"Uhh…" Nita tilted her head, counting silently on her fingers. "Five years now. I met them when they passed through our village. They were different back then. Less serious. They smiled more."
Melina stirred her stew and took another small spoonful.
"Say," Nita continued, "what's your specialty?"
"Specialty?" Melina echoed, then straightened slightly. "Oh. Fire… I guess."
"I see, I see." Nita nodded thoughtfully. "Mine's healing magic. I was never good at elemental spells. Never had the knack for it."
Melina gave a small, awkward laugh. "Well… I don't have any talent for healing."
Nita took a bite of her stew, savoring the warmth before answering.
"You don't really need talent. Just good mana control. Anyone can learn the basics. Though…" She hesitated. "Not everyone can heal others well."
Melina listened carefully.
"You must be a big help to them," she said, eyes lowering to her bowl.
Nita's smile faded just slightly. She looked down at the stew, her own reflection faint in its surface.
"They seem to think so," she said softly. "But… I'm not always sure."
Melina's head lifted.
"What do you mean?"
"Well…" Nita exhaled slowly. "I'm terrible in combat. Because of that, I get hurt a lot. And then others get injured protecting me. I can heal them afterward. But if I wasn't there… maybe they wouldn't get hurt in the first place."
There it was.
Melina recognized that feeling instantly.
That twisting sense of being a burden.
The fear of messing everything up.
The quiet belief that everyone would be better off without you.
Her fingers tightened around her spoon.
For a long moment, she said nothing.
Then—
"You're wrong."
The words were quiet, but firm.
Nita blinked.
Melina looked up, and her eyes weren't downcast anymore.
"If you weren't there," she continued, voice steady despite its softness, "they'd still get hurt. They fight. That's what they do. You just make sure they don't die."
Nita opened her mouth—but no words came out.
"And even if someone gets hurt protecting you… they're choosing to. That's not your fault."
Silence settled between them.
Nita let out a slow breath.
"You sound like you've thought about that before."
Melina's gaze flickered.
"…Maybe."
Nita studied her more closely now. The timid posture. The gentle voice. The girl who commands fire.
"Do you feel that way too?" she asked gently. "Like you're more burden than help?"
Melina's jaw tightened.
"I…" She hesitated. "When I was little, people used to say I never hesitated. Once, I saved some kids from a bear—"
"A bear?!" Nita straightened so fast her glasses nearly slipped.
"Yeah…" Melina looked embarrassed. "That's when I first used magic. The bear ran off."
Nita slowly rested her cheek against her palm, elbow on the table, staring at Melina.
"You were a kid too, right? Awakening mana that young is rare. Don't talk about yourself like you're weak."
Melina nodded, but doubt still lingered behind her eyes.
"Your friend is strong," Nita added.
"Sir Alaric?"
"Yes. He's a Knight-Magus, right?"
"Uh… I think so."
"If he is, he's a damn good one. Lightning is powerful. And his strength is no joke."
Melina nodded again, glancing down at her bowl—only to realize she'd finished the stew without noticing.
She reached for her mug and took a long drink.
Nita tilted her head slightly.
"Do you like that Adam boy?"
Melina choked.
"Wh—?!" Water sprayed across the table.
Nita burst into laughter.