Bermuda Chapter 80

Leonardo, who had generously applied the ointnt to Hugo's hand, began wrapping it carefully with the gauze he’d brought.

“This is a breathable gauze. Try not to remove it unless you absolutely have to.”

As he spoke, Leonardo compressed the gauze slightly while wrapping it, then tied a firm, clean knot.

The fit was perfect, each turn of the gauze ticulously placed. It was clear he had done this countless tis—likely in combat zones or on dangerous missions where he’d had to treat himself in haste. Ergency first aid must have beco second nature to him.

Once he finished, Leonardo glanced at Hugo again, his eyes narrowing.

“I told you—who said you could grab my wrist? Are you out of your mind...”

Hugo’s brow twitched faintly.

Leonardo caught the reaction, then gently touched Hugo’s hand again, eventually resting it on his own thigh as though handling sothing fragile. He must have felt guilty—it was, after all, a wound he’d caused.

Leonardo lowered his head, idly brushing away pebbles and dirt with his foot. A mont later, he looked up and cast an aimless gaze toward the lake.

“I’ll deal with my own problems. You don’t need to shoulder them or try to control everything. If sothing goes wrong because I lose control, that’s on —not you.”

Hugo watched him silently. Leonardo’s voice was unusually calm, even unfamiliar. Though he seed sincere, to Hugo it sounded more like bravado than conviction.

Hugo was certain Leonardo would never deliberately harm anyone. But if it happened unintentionally—especially due to unstable mana—it would be another story.

If Leonardo injured soone here, even by accident, it would be nearly impossible to justify releasing him to the peninsula. He could easily end up a criminal again.

Just like how his past disobedience, though unintentional, had cost the empire dearly—leading to its defeat and countless casualties.

Hugo knew better than to bring up such painful history now. After a short pause, he spoke in an even tone.

“Bringing you here was a decision I made fully aware of the risks. I knew I’d have to take responsibility for anything that might happen. So yes, I’ll keep trying to control you while you’re here—because I plan to take full responsibility for you, until the very end.”

Leonardo let out a long sigh, clearly exasperated.

“God... isn’t it exhausting living like that?”

Hugo assud he ant being controlled.

“Isn’t it tiring,” Leonardo continued, “trying to take responsibility for everything yourself?”

That threw Hugo off. It was the opposite of what he’d expected.

“You’re the Council Commander. From strategy to execution, every step and variable—you’re accountable for it all. And now you’ve even got tagging along. I’m not exactly low maintenance.”

“...”

“If you spend your whole life carrying others’ burdens, and then one day you can’t even take care of your own... who’ll take responsibility for you?”

When Leonardo asked that—"Isn’t that right?"—Hugo stared at him, surprised. It wasn’t sothing he’d ever imagined hearing from him. Nor was it sothing he’d ever considered himself. The words took a mont to settle.

He reflected quietly, the weight of the question pulling him inward. Then, with a faint, self-mocking smile, he replied softly,

“I’ve never thought about that... that soone might take responsibility for .”

Leonardo frowned. It struck him as the most foolish thing Hugo had ever said.

And yet—strangely—he felt a sliver of kinship. He too had lived without leaning on anyone, never expecting support from others. Listening to this dignified Duke and Council Commander say such a thing made Leonardo feel like he was seeing a reflection of himself.

He studied the man beside him—thinking, He can make that kind of expression too.

The rare look on Hugo’s face was unfamiliar, even disarming. Leonardo found himself sinking into unexpected thoughts.

How absurd, that he—of all people, possibly the most wretched person alive—would feel sympathy. But that’s what it was: a raw, reluctant sympathy, as if staring into a mirror.

With a sigh, Leonardo muttered with sothing like regret, as if talking to himself,

“You really do live a tiring life.”

Hugo turned to him at those words—ones that could have sounded derisive, but weren’t.

He saw Leonardo’s expression and imdiately let go of the thought. He wasn’t mocking him. He looked conflicted.

Their eyes t. Silence stretched between them.

Eventually, Hugo opened his mouth, as if offering a piece of himself to soone who looked just as burdened.

“Leonardo, I carry this responsibility because it’s what allows to live the life I have. To enjoy what I’ve been given. Maybe it seems exhausting to you, but it’s the role I’ve been entrusted with—and the path I have to walk.”

“...”

“Just like you have yours.”

Leonardo didn’t respond. He simply stared at him, sensing the weight behind those words.

They weren’t just spoken—they were lived.

It struck Leonardo harder than he expected. He could no longer wear that sa tired scowl. The look in Hugo’s eyes made it harder still.

He had always known Hugo’s position ca with imnse responsibility. But hearing it said aloud—hearing what it cost—was sothing else entirely.

The weight of it sat between them.

Leonardo struggled to find a reply. Words felt clumsy now.

So, to fill the silence that had beco too long, he tossed out a thought, a little too candidly:

“That’s admirable.”

He ant to say it lightly. ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) But his voice ca out too sincere.

“I don’t dislike people who take responsibility. Honestly... who would?”

Hugo gave a faint smile at the honesty in his gaze. Leonardo t those blue eyes, then slowly looked away and added,

“And when I said you live a tiring life—I didn’t an it as a jab. I’m the sa.”

He turned toward the lake. Then, as if to himself, with quiet bitterness:

“I live a tiring life too...”

That lonely, distant look stirred a dozen questions in Hugo’s mind, but he kept them to himself. This man, young as he might appear, carried far too many stories already.

So Hugo said nothing.

He just watched the side of Leonardo’s face in profile. Then, lightly, he rested his hand—the one Leonardo had just treated—on his shoulder.

This ti, it was the right shoulder, not the left.

Leonardo looked from the hand to Hugo’s face.

“...Why?”

Hugo tapped his shoulder twice, gently.

Leonardo blankly stared, then let out a breath of laughter. He recognized it.

Agrizendro usually did that when encouraging soone.

‘So the right side’s okay.’

Hugo caught the subtle smile and slowly withdrew his hand.

As Leonardo’s eyes followed the movent, he caught a glimpse of the watch on Hugo’s left wrist. He’d seen it earlier while dressing the wound. It looked high-end—sleek and likely enchanted.

A mory stirred, faint and buried, but he blinked it away.

Hugo had worn that watch ever since the capital—except for the ti he ca to capture him in Frost Territory. Even when he got burned grabbing his wrist, it had survived.

Clearly, it had strong reinforcent magic.

Curious how resilient the enchantnt was, Leonardo reached for the watch. But just then, Hugo’s hand shifted slightly—subtly pulling away, as if to stop him.

Leonardo froze, eyes lifting.

Countless thoughts ran through his head. Then he spoke casually,

“You always wear that watch.”

There was no change in Hugo’s expression, but the ssage was clear: don’t touch it.

As Leonardo let his hand drop, Hugo glanced down at the tipiece and said,

“It was given to by soone important.”

Leonardo’s eyes widened faintly. Soone important? It sounded strange coming from Hugo’s lips. Curious, he asked lightly,

“Who? Your lover?”

Hugo just smiled.

It wasn’t clear whether it was yes or no, but as Leonardo scanned his composed face, he thought,

Well... it would be odd if he didn’t have one.

Hugo lingered a mont, then quietly rose to his feet. Leonardo’s gaze followed him upward.

“Let’s head in.”

He looked one last ti at Hugo’s watch, then nodded. It was late.

When they returned to the cave entrance, the night watch was pinching his thighs and fighting to stay awake. At the sight of Hugo and Leonardo, he jolted upright and corrected his posture.

Hugo walked over to him.

“Go get so sleep. I’ll take over.”

“P-pardon? B-but—”

“It’s fine. Go rest.”

The soldier hesitated under his commander's words, but fatigue won. He saluted with a guilty glance and slipped into the tent.

Hugo sat in his spot by the fire and tossed on a few more logs. Leonardo, glancing over the flas, disappeared into his tent.

As the fire crackled, their eyes t briefly through the flickering light—then the flap closed behind him.

Inside the tent, Leonardo shook his head.

He barely got any sleep himself.

Hugo stared at the tent, then lowered his gaze to his hand wrapped in gauze. The cool ointnt and the warmth of another’s touch lingered on his palm.

The bonfire burned brighter now. Hugo watched the flas a while, then turned his eyes to the lake beyond the crater.

Nothing could be seen in the darkness, but faint ripples spread across the surface—soft, soundless.

“What now...”

And so, he waited for morning to co.