After a good while, Sandrone finally grew tired of yelling.
Her chest heaved heavily as she stared at Daigan’s indifferent face, a surge of helplessness washing over her.
She stomped her foot in frustration, making a dull thud against the floor.
“Fine!
I won’t waste my breath on you!”
She gave up.
Arguing with a freak who lacked even a shred of shame was pure self-torment.
“Pulonia, drag him off that chair.”
Exhausted from shouting, Sandrone ordered Pulonia to act.
“Pfft…”
Arlecchino moved aside, allowing Pulonia’s massive form to step forward.
Its giant arm raised high, its shadow cast by the candlelight large enough to envelop Daigan’s entire body.
“Hey, Pulonia’s grip strength reaches up to 1,270 tons.
If you don’t want to suffer, get the hell out!” Sandrone delivered one final warning, her hands resting on her hips.
Yet Daigan merely stated:
“Won’t leave.”
At those words, Sandrone waved her hand.
Pulonia’s massive palm pressed down toward Daigan with terrifying weight and unstoppable force.
*Clack.*
Before it could descend much further, it was completely brought to a halt.
“Pulonia?”
Under Sandrone’s bewildered gaze, Pulonia’s mechanical arm made a perilous, creaking groan.
*Crack.*
In the next instant, its entire massive arm was slowly pushed back upward.
The clash between sheer mechanical force and physical power unleashed a startling shockwave of wind.
Amidst a series of grinding gears, Daigan was seen slowly lifting that sparking giant arm higher and higher.
Instantly, Sandrone’s face was painted with utter disbelief.
How was this possible?
Pulonia’s downward hydraulic pressure had been tested to reach a staggering 4,640 tons!
Seeing this, the core temperature atop Pulonia’s head spiked.
Fiery surges of deadfire began flowing through its frame as it prepared to unleash its full power.
“Stop, Pulonia!”
Before Pulonia could commit to full strength, Sandrone called a halt.
Pulonia’s hydraulic tubes emitted a low hum, the red light in its core chamber flickering repeatedly.
Ultimately, it gave Daigan one final glare and slowly retracted its arm dripping with deadfire.
Brawling in this room would only ruin her own possessions.
Pulonia slowly raised its arm.
*Sizzle…*
White smoke rose from Daigan’s forearm, the fabric there melted clean away by the high heat generated from the intense friction and pressure.
Sandrone gritted her teeth and glared at Daigan.
“You won’t leave, is that it?”
“Meeting not over.
Won’t leave,” Daigan responded decisively.
Silence briefly returned to the warm room, broken only by the crackle of firewood.
Seeing this, the Knave glanced at the sky outside the window, straightened her posture, and spoke calmly.
“It’s getting late.
I have business to attend to.
I’ll take my leave.”
Columbina opened her eyes and nodded gently.
“I should head back as well.”
Though she had no idea what she was heading back to do.
The two stood up, preparing to depart.
At this, Daigan also stood up to leave.
Only, the corner of his mouth twitched subtly upward.
The curvature was almost imperceptible, yet it happened to fall right within Sandrone’s line of sight.
Sandrone’s eyes widened instantly, her rage flaring right back up!
*He’s smiling!
He’s actually smiling!*
*He did it on purpose!
He came specifically to cause trouble!
Our afternoon tea was turned upside down, and he’s enjoying it!
He’s driving me crazy!*
“Hold it right there!”
Sandrone snapped at Arlecchino, who was heading for the door.
“Need help?” The red crossed pattern flared bright in Arlecchino’s eyes.
Sandrone gritted her teeth, uttering word by word:
“Pulonia, our guest is cold.
Help ‘move’ the guest’s chair.”
Pulonia, having just suffered a setback, understood Sandrone’s intent instantly.
It moved swiftly, bypassing his front, and jammed its metal arms precisely around both sides of the chair legs.
With a gentle lift, it moved both man and chair, setting them down steadily right beside the fireplace.
Daigan was forcefully arranged into a position facing the wall for reflection.
His face was flushed red from the fire’s heat, yet his spine remained perfectly straight, his eyes fixed on the cold wall, his expression resolutely firm.
“Pfft—”
Columbina couldn’t hold it in and giggled softly.
The laugh was crisp, like shattered ice falling onto a jade plate, instantly dispelling the tense atmosphere in the room.
The Knave couldn’t help but curl her lips, the amused look in her eyes no longer concealed.
Sandrone’s move was quite entertaining.
Seeing the two of them, Sandrone felt most of the frustration in her chest dissipate.
She waved her hand and said huffily:
“What are you laughing at!
Tea party continues!”
The atmosphere in the warm room oddly relaxed.
Sandrone had her mechanical servant brew a fresh pot of tea.
The rich floral scent spread, masking the dusty smell Daigan had brought in.
With this fuss, Rosalyne’s chair had been relocated.
The three sat around the table, occasionally exchanging trivial words, no longer paying attention to the wall-facing figure in the corner.
Daigan sat quietly.
Even when the topic turned to him, he remained motionless, neither noisy nor disruptive, like a forgotten statue.
…
The tea party drew to a close.
The fire in the hearth dimmed, and the tea aroma faded.
Sandrone’s mood had completely calmed down.
She even felt her earlier anger was a bit dramatic.
She turned to look toward the wall.
Daigan still maintained his wall-facing pose, the scorching heat of the fire casting a long shadow behind him.
As she watched, Sandrone couldn’t help letting out a soft chuckle.
That feeling of being played like a fool didn’t seem quite so infuriating anymore.
*This guy…
eccentric as he is, doesn’t seem all that hateful.*
*At least he stayed quiet for so long without causing any more trouble.*
“Hmph.”
She waved her hand and instructed Pulonia:
“Move him back.”
Daigan, chair and all, was shifted back to his original spot.
He still showed no reaction, merely shifting his gaze from the hearth to the air ahead, maintaining his unbothered expression as if he hadn’t just been shoved next to a roasting fire.
Looking at his heat-flushed face, the last bit of awkwardness in Sandrone’s heart melted away.
She had Pulonia clear away Rosalyne’s cup and bring a cup of warm flower tea, setting it heavily down on the table in front of him.
“Even though you’re bizarre, unlikable, talk like a frog without an audio driver installed, and forced your way into my tea party to take Rosalyne’s seat…”
Sandrone’s tone remained somewhat awkward, but the anger was gone.
She turned her face away, her voice softening slightly.
“A guest is a guest.
Drink this tea before you go.”
“And don’t come back next time!”
At Sandrone’s gesture, Daigan’s eyes fell upon the cup of flower tea.
He didn’t need water or food, so naturally he had no sense of taste.
Only when his HP bar was damaged did he need to consume special ingredients—like the Sweet Flower Stuffed Chickens stored in his inventory.
To him, this tea was no different from melted snow by the roadside.
Yet he still raised his hand and picked up the cup.
Without hesitation or delay, he tilted his head back and downed it in one gulp.
The warm liquid slid down his throat, a faint floral aroma blended with a hint of sweetness bursting on his tongue.
Yet Daigan showed no reaction, remaining as bland as plain tea.
“Alright, meeting’s over.
Get out.”
The teacup was abruptly snatched away by Pulonia.
Seeing Arlecchino and Columbina rising to bid farewell, Daigan, following the tea party rules, imitated them and waved at Sandrone.
“Goodbye.
Looking forward to the next tea party.”
“Hurry along, who would ever…”
Sandrone, responding instinctively, suddenly froze.
Her pupils shrank slightly as she looked at Daigan with renewed astonishment.
*This guy actually knows how to say goodbye?!*
A flicker of surprise flashed in Arlecchino’s eyes.
Standing beside Sandrone, Columbina smiled softly.
“I feel like I’ve learned more about him today than in all the past years combined.”
“I…
guess so.”
Sandrone was still stunned that this eccentric could speak human words.
Had she misjudged him?
Was there actually a normal person among the Harbingers?
After Arlecchino and Columbina left, Sandrone looked at Rosalyne’s intact chair and gradually calmed down.
In her anger earlier, she hadn’t noticed that she’d made Pulonia use brute force.
Five thousand tons of pressure—let alone shattering a chair, it should have instantly obliterated the nearby table, teacups, and floor.
Yet everything now looked…
completely undamaged.
*This guy was protecting Rosalyne’s cup and chair.*
Aside from his own crushed clothes, not a single object at the scene had been destroyed by force.
Realizing this, Sandrone felt a strange, subtle shift in her heart.
“Hmph.
That guy’s clothes were tattered to begin with.”
…
On the snowy road.
Daigan came back to his senses.
“Tsk tsk.
Damned auto-tracking.
Back to running the map manually—I’ll pilot it myself this time.”
Double-tap dash, switch-jump to cancel cooldowns—now *that’s* gameplay.
A dark figure flickered farther and farther into the heavy snow like a shadow.
Smacking his lips twice, Daigan didn’t realize that a trace of sweetness lingered between his teeth.
He had tasted something.