"Sand and more sand," I grumbled, staring at the patterns on the rug. "What did they even find so interesting out there?"
I spent the entire evening lost in heavy thoughts. The blame lay entirely with those touches. Alexia's hands. The elf's hands. I closed my eyes. The memory of fingers running through my hair floated to the surface. The warmth. I could feel it: this was a way to control me. It was a vulnerability. The moment someone petted me, I was ready to forget my anger, my goals, absolutely everything.
Ugh, Greg. What kind of monster are you if you can be tamed like a stray dog with a simple scratch?
But the feeling was overwhelmingly strong. I desperately wanted more of that affection. I sat up and shook my head, trying to banish the weakness, and reminded myself of the main objective.
"The goal. Talk to the Old Elf. Learn about the past. And leave."
But then another question arose. A deep, ugly one. I looked at myself. A black eye that terrifies people. A jacket that offends them. A roughness that repels them.
"Why are they even with me?"
I arrived at the only logical, cynical answer.
"If it weren't for this power," I whispered. "If it weren't for my usefulness, they wouldn't even look twice at me."
I imagined it. What if I were just a regular student who failed history and sneezed through lectures? The princesses wouldn't cast a single glance in my direction.
Hmm. And what if the princesses weren't princesses? I thought. Maybe I'd notice their beauty... but then I'd stop caring. I'd just go about my business. Because other than a pretty face, what could they possibly offer me?
Some proverb started scratching at the back of my mind. A phrase I knew but couldn't quite articulate. "Don't judge..." or something like that.
I returned to the bitter truth.
"If it weren't for my strength, for my utility, they wouldn't need me at all. To them, I'm a bodyguard, a tactician, a distraction. A tool."
And me? Why am I with them? I use them too: for food, for a bed, for access to the Academy, for a shield against the outside world. And for that stupid, pleasant affection.
"So who are we?" I asked the empty room. "Am I actually with them, or are we just going the same way?"
We are not... friends? Hmm. An unfamiliar word to me, but how do I know it?
The thought granted me a cold, cynical calmness. It was unpleasant, but it insulated me against attachment.
"That's it. Enough thinking," I decided. "I need to prepare for the finals. And for the answers."
SCENE: The Hunt for a Definition, or Three Types of Friends
We are not... friends? Hmm. An unfamiliar word to me, but how do I know it?
I lay in the mini-palace, the thought drilling into my brain. Friends. The word felt foreign, yet incredibly familiar. It was like I was holding it in my hands but couldn't pry it open. What kind of bond is more important than power? It became unbearable. I wouldn't be able to sleep until I found the answer.
Pop. I teleported out onto the street, back to the night bazaar where the noise and sand helped drown out my thoughts. I walked with my eyes on the ground, deep in contemplation.
I need data. I have to analyze this word like a formula.
Soon, I stumbled upon a group of people sitting around a street lamp. They looked like they might be fellow semi-finalists.
1. The View: Friendship as Mutual Benefit (Utility)
I approached a table where a burly, gloomy man sat polishing an enchanted blade.
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"Hey," I asked. "I have a question. What is a friend?"
The man didn't even look up. "A friend?" he growled. "A friend is someone who watches your back in a fight. Someone you split the loot with. A shared goal. You survive together." He tapped a finger against his blade. "A friend is a weapon you use, and one that uses you. Mutual benefit. The rest is just sentimental crap."
I nodded. "Mutual benefit. Utility."
It perfectly aligned with my current theory about Alexia and Lianel. And it was freezing cold.
2. The View: Friendship as Shared Thoughts (Enjoyment)
I walked away and ran into two youths sitting together, enthusiastically debating some magical treatise. They looked happy.
"What do you guys think?" I asked. "What is a friend?"
One of them, sporting a dreamy expression, smiled. "A friend? It's pure joy. A friend is someone who understands you. Someone you share your thoughts and discoveries with. Someone you can argue with about the stars and mana. It's the pure enjoyment of connection!"
"Do you spend time with him because you need him to survive?" I asked.
"No!" the second one exclaimed. "We spend time together because it's fascinating. We are alike. We're kindred spirits."
"Shared thoughts. Enjoyment."
It was warm, but it didn't align with my combat experience. I couldn't recall ever sharing my thoughts with anyone.
3. The View: Friendship as Absolute Connection (Kindness)
I kept walking and wandered over to a small stall where an old healer woman was sorting herbs. Beside her sat her granddaughter, cleaning vials.
"Grandmother, what is a friend?" I asked, turning to her.
The old woman raised her wise, wrinkled eyes to mine. "A friend, son, isn't about usefulness or idle chatter. A friend is someone who wishes you Well. Even if you don't deserve it."
"Meaning?"
"They won't abandon you. They won't judge you if you fail. They will accept you even if you become..." she glanced at my mismatched eyes, "...like this. A friend is someone willing to sacrifice a piece of themselves to make you better. It is unconditional Kindness. It is a binding thread between souls."
"Unconditional kindness."
It was the strangest version. And the most powerful.
I thanked the old woman and retreated into the shadows, leaving the three definitions bouncing around in my head.
Friendship = Mutual Benefit (Utility)
Friendship = Shared Thoughts (Enjoyment)
Friendship = Unconditional Kindness (Connection)
I realized I couldn't be a friend of the third type. Because for that, you need a soul. And I... I only had nothingness.
I was a Tool. And I think I liked it that way. I headed back to the mini-palace, ready for the finals. And ready for the moment all these "friends" would turn their backs on me as soon as I stopped being useful.
SCENE: The Cat's Rejection, Tipsy Princesses, and Crossed Boundaries
I stepped out of the palace, still tormented by the search for an answer: What is a friend? My cynicism screamed: Mutual benefit. But something inside ached: Unconditional kindness.
Walking down an alley, I spotted a cat. A normal, skinny, striped cat warming itself on the stones. I crouched beside it.
Affection, I thought. It's an exchange of warmth that I can't provide for myself. I cautiously reached out a hand and started stroking its back. The cat instantly arched, hissed, swatted my finger with a clawed paw, and sprang away. I looked at the fresh scratch.
"Right."
"Do you like being petted?" I asked the cat. It let out an angry meow.
"Well, I don't exactly enjoy giving my warmth to you either," I muttered. "I don't even know you."
I understood then: affection isn't a commodity. It has to be earned. Or deserved. Or spontaneous. But it doesn't just happen with strangers.
"Which means they do it to me because they know I won't retaliate," I concluded, my cynicism taking the wheel once again.
I returned to the mini-palace. Not even twenty minutes had passed. Suddenly, the front door burst open with a crash, and the princesses walked in, giggling. They were acting... weird.
Lianel walked in leaning heavily against the doorframe. Alexia swayed slightly as she moved, laughing loudly. Their normally flawless hairstyles were a mess.
"Oh, Greg!" Alexia said loudly. "You missed out! There are so many sights! We saw flying monkeys!"
I frowned. "Are you guys drunk?"
They instantly stood up straighter.
"No way!" Lianel exclaimed. "What are you talking about! We couldn't possibly! Princesses don't behave like that!"
But their eyes were suspiciously bright, and they were talking way too loud.
"Hmm," I drawled. "I thought princesses like you weren't even capable of getting plastered."
Alexia stepped closer, tilting her head conspiratorially. "But we're not like everyone else, Greg. And nobody knows about it, right?" She wagged a finger at me.
"Right, right," I replied, realizing another secret was about to be added to the pile in my head.
I was sitting on the couch. Alexia slowly walked around it, approaching from behind. She placed her hands on my shoulders and started stroking my hair. At first, it was the familiar, soothing gesture.
"You're weird, Greg," she whispered. "But you're always here."
Then, she did something she had never done before. She wrapped both arms around my neck and pulled me against her, pressing her cheek against the back of my head. A hug from behind. Her breath burned against my ear.
"Greg..." she whispered, her voice laced with vulnerability and intoxication. "You actually... smell nice."
My brain shut down. This wasn't taming. This was something that shattered every established boundary. I sat absolutely frozen, not daring to move a muscle. My entire "mutual benefit" theory collapsed into dust.
After twenty long seconds, she let go of me, stood up abruptly, and swaying on her feet, said, "Good night!" before disappearing into her room. Lianel followed right behind her.
I sat there for another twenty minutes. Stunned. My heart was pounding. Goosebumps erupted across my skin. It was impossible, unbearably pleasant. And terrifying.
Why did she do that? I thought, touching my neck. Because she's drunk? Or... is this that third definition of friendship? Unconditional?
Tense as a coiled spring, I went to bed. Tomorrow was the Final.