Strax walked through the mansion’s wide corridors with firm, silent steps, his posture erect but without rigidity, like someone who didn’t need to impose his presence—it simply existed around him naturally, inevitably. The atmosphere, though bustling at other times, was relatively quiet at that moment of day, with only a few servants crossing the corridors in the distance and instinctively averting their gaze as he passed, not out of direct fear, but out of respect... or perhaps something more difficult to define. His mind wasn’t as scattered as before; now there was a clear, simple objective, almost strange compared to his previous decisions. He wasn’t going to a meeting, nor to analyze reports, nor to resolve conflicts. He was going to find Agnes.

The distant sound of impacts began to emerge as he approached the training wing, echoes of blows, quick footsteps, and the occasional dry crack of wood being struck with enough force to split. It was a familiar sound, constant within Asgard, something that represented growth, preparation... and discipline. Strax didn’t slow down, crossing the entrance to the outdoor training area with his usual ease, his gaze automatically searching for the specific figure he expected to find there.

But she wasn’t there.

The field was occupied, yes—several soldiers were training in pairs or small groups, repeating movements, testing strength, refining technique. Some were focused on hand-to-hand combat, others on weapons use, and there was even a small group further away practicing coordination in formation. Everything organized. Everything functioning.

But Agnes... was nowhere to be found.

Strax paused for a brief moment, his eyes scanning the space more attentively now, not hurriedly, but meticulously. He didn’t show frustration immediately, but there was a slight, almost imperceptible contraction in his expression—something small, but enough to indicate that this wasn’t what he expected.

His gaze then fixed on one of those in charge of the training at that moment—a taller man, with a firm posture, clearly leading one of the divisions with authority and precision. Strax approached without making unnecessary noise, but his presence was noticed even before a word was spoken.

The man turned immediately, straightening up as he recognized who stood before him.

"Sir," he said, with a slight, respectful nod.

Strax wasted no time.

"Where is Agnes?"

The question was direct, straightforward, but not aggressive. Just... objective.

The man hesitated for a fraction of a second, not out of fear, but out of adjustment—clearly it wasn’t common to answer something like that directly to him.

"Miss...," he began, choosing his words carefully, "took a day off."

Strax blinked once.

The word was registered.

Processed.

"Miss," he repeated mentally, not with bewilderment, but with a slight note of recognition. He didn’t correct it. He didn’t question the usage. He simply absorbed it.

"On Lady Monica’s orders," the man finished.

Silence.

Strax stood still for a brief moment, looking directly at him, not as one who demands further explanations, but as one who is reorganizing his own plan in real time.

Then he let out a light sigh through his nose.

"I understand."

No irritation.

No objection.

Just practical acceptance.

But, internally...

That changed things.

He turned his face slightly, looking around the training field again, as if expecting her to simply appear there suddenly, contradicting the information he had received. But no.

Nothing.

The absence was clear.

"...where did she go?" he thought, without speaking this time.

And then, without saying anything more, he simply turned and started walking again, leaving the training area behind with the same calm with which he had arrived.

If Agnes wasn’t there...

Then he would find her.

Simple as that.

His steps led him first to the stables, one of the few places in Asgard where Agnes occasionally appeared outside of training hours, especially when she needed to... slow down. The atmosphere there was completely different—the smell of hay, leather, and live animals filled the air, mixed with the soft sound of hooves against the ground and heavy, but tranquil, breaths.

Strax entered without hesitation, his eyes quickly scanning the space.

Some horses raised their heads slightly at his presence, but didn’t react with panic—just attention. A groom was further back, tending to one of the animals, but Agnes... again... wasn’t there.

Strax remained for a few seconds, analyzing the surroundings, as if confirming the absolute absence before moving on.

Nothing.

He turned again.

Next destination.

The indoor training area.

Unlike the open field, this space was more enclosed, more controlled, generally used for specific practices, technical combat, or training in more restricted conditions. The sound there was more muffled, more contained, but still present.

Strax entered.

He observed.

Some people were training.

Precise movements.

Focused atmosphere.

But, once again...

No Agnes.

This time, he didn’t stop for so long.

The absence was already becoming a pattern.

He left the place almost immediately, his steps now leading him back inside the main mansion, crossing wider corridors, common areas, passing through rooms where some people were talking quietly or organizing daily tasks.

His gaze moved constantly.

Searching.

Analyzing.

But without haste.

He didn’t seem... worried.

But there was a clear deviation from the initial plan.

And that, in itself, was enough to keep him focused.

It was then that, turning down one of the side corridors, he found someone he wasn’t looking for—but who, at that moment, could solve exactly what he needed.

Kali.

She was leaning relaxedly against one of the columns, arms crossed, observing the movement around her with a tranquil, almost bored air. Her eyes moved automatically when Strax appeared in her field of vision, and a slight smile appeared, not of surprise, but of recognition.

"You’re looking for someone," she said, without even waiting for him to speak first.

Strax stopped a few steps away, looking directly at her.

"Agnes."

Simple.

Direct.

Kali raised an eyebrow slightly, as if the answer were obvious... or perhaps expected.

"Ah," she said, slowly uncrossing her arms. "She’s not around here."

Strax kept his gaze fixed on her, waiting for her to continue.

And she didn’t take long.

"She went to the hot springs."

Silence.

Strax blinked.

Once.

Then again.

"...hot springs?" he repeated, now with a slight change in tone—not of distrust, but of genuine surprise.

"Here... in Asgard?"

Kali couldn’t help but smile slightly this time, clearly finding his reaction more interesting than she should.

"Yes," she replied naturally. "Right here."

Strax was silent for a second, clearly processing that specific information, as if trying to fit it into the structural image he had of Asgard.

Hot springs.

That wasn’t in the reports.

Or, if it was... it wasn’t something he’d considered relevant.

"...when did this happen?" he murmured more to himself than to her.

Kali tilted her head slightly.

"It was Cassandra and Daniela’s idea," she explained, now in a little more detail, noticing his unusual interest in it. "They wanted to create a relaxation space after training. Something less... destructive."

She paused briefly, as if remembering something.

"Scarlet helped too," she added. "Fire runes. Thermal control. Keeps the water hot all the time."

Strax listened silently, absorbing the information with genuine attention now.

Runes.

Infrastructure.

Functional expansion.

He didn’t comment immediately.

Kali then shrugged slightly, adding:

"It opened last week."

Another pause.

And then, with a slightly more relaxed smile:

"And honestly... it’s great."

Strax looked away slightly for a moment, as if rearranging his expectations about the place once again.

Asgard continued... evolving.

In ways he hadn’t prioritized.

But which clearly had value.

He looked back at Kali.

"...where is it?" he asked.

Directly.

She smiled a little more, pointing with her thumb toward one of the more distant corridors.

"Outside. East side. You’ll smell the steam before you see it."

...

Steam rose in gentle layers above the water’s surface, creating a light mist that subtly distorted the surroundings of the hot springs, giving the space an almost isolated feeling from the rest of Asgard, as if time flowed at a different pace there, slower, more permissive. The warm water enveloped Agnes’s body up to her chest, and she remained leaning against the stone edge, her shoulders relaxed in a rare, almost unusual way for someone who spent most of her time in constant motion, training, or combat. The small towel rested strategically on her bust, partially submerged, floating lightly with the almost imperceptible movement of the water, fulfilling its function more out of formality than real necessity.

She let out a long sigh, letting her head fall slightly back, her eyes closing for a moment as the heat helped dissolve some of the tension accumulated in her muscles. But, as almost always happened to her, physical rest did not mean mental silence.

"I practically drew it for him..." she murmured, her voice low, carrying a slight hint of irritation mixed with disbelief, while one of her hands absentmindedly traced patterns on the surface of the water. Small ripples spread around her fingers, momentarily breaking the reflection of the sky above.

She opened one eye, staring at the steam in front of her as if she were speaking directly to it.

"Every possible hint," she continued, now with a slight grumble. "Direct, indirect... even explicit."

There was a short pause.

And then she turned her face slightly to the side, sinking a little further into the water, as if trying to hide from her own thoughts.

"...and he just went off to solve the problem."

The tone wasn’t exactly hurt.

But there was a clear trace of frustration.

Agnes snorted softly, wiping her wet face with a hand before letting it fall back into the water with a small splash.

"He didn’t even notice...", she finished, now with a slight narrowing of her eyes.

She remained silent for a few seconds, only listening to the soft sound of the water and the occasional distant echo of movement around the outer structures of the fountains, although that particular corner was relatively isolated at that moment.

Then, suddenly, she frowned.

"Do I have to appear naked in front of him?", she blurted out, without any filter, as if it were a perfectly valid hypothesis within her logic. "Like... no room for interpretation whatsoever."

She fell silent immediately after saying that, as if she were really considering the idea seriously.

"...maybe it’ll work."

But her expression changed soon after.

Not exactly to embarrassment.

But to something more reflective.

She looked away, staring at the surface of the water now with more attention, as if searching there for some less impulsive answer.

"...or maybe the problem is me."

The sentence came out lower.

More honest.

And that, coming from her, was rare.

Agnes ran her hand over her opposite arm, as if she could feel the residual tension even there, even in that environment made precisely for relaxation.

"I just... train, train, train...", she murmured, with a slight shake of her head. "Soldiers, strategies, routine..."

She let out a small sigh, this time more tired. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

"...I’m obsessed with it."

It wasn’t an empty complaint.

It was an observation.

She knew.

And, deep down, she wasn’t wrong to do it—Asgard needed it, the soldiers needed it, the structure depended on it.

But still...

"Maybe I need to stop for a while," she said, more to herself than as a firm decision yet. "Take more days off."

She tilted her head back slightly again, looking at the sky through the slowly rising steam, blurring the view of everything above.

"...like today."

A brief silence settled in, lighter this time.

Less heavy.

But not completely empty.

Then she let out another sigh, shorter, and settled slightly in the water, crossing her arms casually before uncrossing them again, as if she couldn’t quite decide which position was more comfortable.

"...and maybe...", she began, with a slight frown, "...I need a little more charm."

The word came out almost strangely from her mouth.

Charm.

She let out a small, humorless, nasal laugh.

"I’m kind of... too direct sometimes," she admitted, looking at her own hand as she lifted it slightly from the water. "Okay, almost always."

She turned her wrist, watching the drops trickle slowly down her skin before falling back into the fountain.

"...but I’m not going to suddenly become a different person either."

Agnes tilted her head slightly to the side, thoughtfully, as if trying to find a balance between who she was and what she might... adjust.

"But maybe I can... try a little harder."

There was a pause.

And then, almost automatically, her gaze drifted down.

To her own body.

She remained silent for a second, analyzing without haste, without shame, but with a kind of practical assessment that perfectly matched her personality.

One hand moved slightly under the water, distractedly adjusting the towel before stopping.

"...good," she murmured.

She raised one hand again, this time with a slight casual gesture, as if testing the weight or simply supporting herself, but the movement ended up revealing more than the initial intention.

"At least I have some appeal."

The sentence came accompanied by a slight arch of her eyebrow, almost like a technical comment about herself. There was no exaggerated vanity.

But there was no denial either.

It was just... a fact.

She let out a small, low laugh soon after, lighter than before, letting her body sink a little further into the hot water, allowing the warmth to envelop her shoulders and part of her neck again.

"That helps, doesn’t it...?" she murmured, more relaxed now.

The surrounding environment remained calm, the steam rising slowly, the sound of the water creating a constant and relaxing background that contrasted completely with the usual rhythm of her life.

For a few moments, Agnes simply stood there.

Without thinking about strategies.

Without thinking about soldiers.

Without thinking about immediate responsibilities.

Just... existing.

But, inevitably, the thought returned.

Strax.

She opened her eyes again, staring at the steam in front of her with a more focused expression now, less frustrated and more... determined.

"...okay," she said softly. Almost as if she were reaching a conclusion.

"If he didn’t understand..." She paused briefly... A slight smile appeared at the corner of her lips... "...I’ll make him understand."