Ironically, his greatest source of relief came from the consequences of intentionally holding himself back. At every meeting, Ingrid stood a little straighter, the tension gradually fading from her eyes.
During the brief moments they spent together before Kastor arrived, she spoke to him more often now.
Usually about the same things.
How he trained. Whether he was still trying. Sometimes she even subtly encouraged him not to give up or become discouraged by how far behind he seemed to be, though she always did it in her own strange way.
Zephyrion usually responded with little more than a nod. Yet one night, he found himself frozen.
"How many hours do you train?"
"…Most of the day."
"Hm." Ingrid frowned. "Then your problem probably isn't effort."
She fell silent for a moment.
"…Come to my mansion sometime. I'll show you how you're supposed to train."
After saying it, she seemed to realize how that sounded. A moment later, she cleared her throat.
