The sound was subtle.

A small, dry click, almost imperceptible to someone distracted, but not to Agnes. Her body reacted even before her mind fully processed what she had heard, her muscles contracting slightly as her head turned toward the source of the sound.

And then she saw.

Strax.

Standing near the entrance to the fountains, as if he had always been there.

A towel fastened tightly around his waist, still slightly damp at the edges, his loose hair falling partially over his face, though he was already beginning to pull it back with a calm, nonchalant movement. His posture was relaxed—dangerously relaxed—as if there was absolutely nothing unusual about the situation.

But there was.

And Agnes felt it immediately.

Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second, and her reaction was instantaneous: her hands moved quickly, adjusting the towel against her body, pressing it against her chest to better cover her breasts, which until then had been partially exposed by the water and the careless relaxation of moments before.

"H-hi—!" she began, her voice coming out a little louder than she intended, laden with surprise and a clear trace of embarrassment. "This was supposed to be a private bath!"

She turned her body slightly in the water, as if that were enough to protect herself more, although she was already covered, the heat of the water now competing with the sudden heat rising to her face.

And yes—

She was blushing.

Visibly.

Strax, on the other hand...

Laughed.

Not loudly.

Not exaggeratedly.

But a low laugh, almost amused, that carried a rare kind of lightness coming from him, as if that reaction was... interesting.

Meanwhile, her hands were already busy, pulling her hair back naturally, gathering the dark strands in a firm movement until they formed a simple bun at the back of her head, without any hurry, as if she were completely at ease in that environment.

"I’m the owner of the city," he said, in a calm tone, almost too casual for the context, while adjusting the bun precisely. "I do what I want."

The answer came without exaggerated arrogance.

But also... without room for contestation.

Agnes opened her mouth for a moment, clearly ready to retort—

But she stopped.

Because he continued.

"And besides..." added Strax, now shifting his gaze directly to her, with a slight trace of clearer intention in his expression. "I came to collect."

Silence.

It took Agnes’s brain half a second to connect.

And when it connected—

Her face turned even redder.

"...w-charge what?" she asked, though she already knew exactly what he was talking about.

Strax tilted his head slightly.

"’Come whenever you want,’" he repeated, quoting her words with almost irritating precision.

And then, with the same calm:

"I came."

Silence.

Total.

Agnes turned her face quickly to the side.

Not because she wanted to ignore him.

But because looking directly at him at that moment was... complicated.

Very complicated.

Especially now that she had a clear view.

Of his body.

The towel around his waist didn’t hide much—not in a vulgar sense, but in the sense of presence. His torso was completely exposed, muscles well-defined not in an exaggerated way, but functionally, like someone accustomed to using real strength, not aesthetics. There were subtle marks here and there, old scars, almost faded, that told stories she probably couldn’t even fully imagine.

And all of this... was right there.

A few meters away.

Effortlessly.

Without any intention of hiding.

"...damn...", she murmured softly, more to herself than to him, still avoiding direct eye contact.

Strax noticed.

Of course he noticed.

And again—

He laughed.

This time a little more lightly.

"You blush quickly," he commented, observing her with a quiet interest, without exaggerated malice, but clearly finding the situation... curious.

Agnes tightened the towel a little more around her body, frowning slightly while still keeping her gaze averted.

"It’s not every day someone barges into a shower like that," she retorted, trying to regain some control of the situation, although her voice still carried that slight trace of nervousness.

Strax shrugged.

"You literally invited me."

She opened her mouth—

And closed it.

Because... technically... he wasn’t wrong.

"...not like that," she murmured, quieter now.

The silence that followed was short, but charged with something different.

Less tension.

More... closeness.

Strax then took a few steps forward, unhurriedly, approaching the edge of the fountain. The steam rose between them, softening the scene, but not enough to completely hide his presence.

Agnes noticed the movement.

And, involuntarily, her eyes returned to him.

For a second.

Two.

Long enough.

And then they looked away again.

But not before he noticed.

"Funny," said Strax, stopping close enough that his voice didn’t need to be raised.

Agnes frowned slightly.

"What?"

He observed her for a moment before answering.

"You’re quite cute."

Silence.

She blinked.

Once.

Clearly not expecting that.

"Cute?" she repeated, with a slight tone of disbelief.

Strax nodded slightly.

"For someone who has a daughter."

...Absolute silence.

For a full second.

Two.

Three.

And then—

Agnes’s face reached a new level of red.

"...h-hey—!" she snapped, finally turning her face completely to him, now more reactive than before, though still visibly embarrassed. "What kind of comment is that?!"

Strax didn’t immediately respond to her indignation.

Instead, he simply... laughed again.

Low, controlled, but clearly genuine, as if that reaction was exactly what he expected—or perhaps exactly what he found interesting enough not to ignore. Without any hurry, he took a few more steps forward, completely ignoring the tension that still hung in the air, and then simply sat on the edge of the fountain, letting his legs slide into the warm water with a natural, almost automatic movement.

The soft sound of the water moving around him broke the silence for a moment.

Agnes was still stiff.

The towel still pressed against her chest.

But he... didn’t seem affected in the slightest.

"Relax," he said, resting his arms behind him on the stone edge, his body slightly inclined as he settled in. "It’s okay."

The tone wasn’t provocative.

Nor disdainful.

It was... simple.

Direct.

As if he really didn’t see any reason for all the fuss.

Agnes maintained her posture for a few seconds, as if internally debating whether to continue reacting or... simply accept that fighting against it was useless. The steam rose between them, softening the contours of the scene, while the warmth of the water slowly enveloped her body again, pulling her back to that state of relaxation that had been interrupted.

She let out a small sigh.

And, little by little... her shoulders gave way.

Strax closed his eyes.

Slowly.

Like someone finally allowing their own body to stop for a moment, absorbing the warmth of the water that enveloped their legs and rose slowly, relaxing muscles that, until recently, had been under constant tension.

The silence between them changed.

It was no longer awkward.

It was... comfortable.

For a few seconds, he said nothing.

He just breathed.

He felt.

And then, almost like a thought that escaped without intention of being heard—

"...tired," he murmured.

The word came out low, but clear enough.

Agnes heard it.

And, this time, she didn’t react with irritation or shame.

She just turned her face slightly toward him, her expression softening.

"It’s normal," she said, her voice lower now, calmer, matching the rhythm of the surrounding environment. "Especially with so many problems appearing... out of nowhere."

She let the words hang in the air for a moment, her fingers gliding distractedly through the water, creating small ripples that reflected the steam above.

Strax let out a small nasal sound—almost a laugh.

Without opening his eyes.

"Out of nowhere...," he repeated, as if he found that choice of words curious.

Then he tilted his head back slightly, still relaxed, his voice lower, more thoughtful:

"Sometimes it feels like fate is playing tricks on me."

There was a brief pause.

The sound of the water returned to fill the space between the words.

"And I have the impression that something is watching," he continued, now with a slight trace of irony in his voice. "Having fun... sending problem after problem to see what I do."

Agnes let out a small, low laugh.

Not mocking.

But understanding.

"It’s part of the journey," she replied naturally, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

She turned her body a little more in the water, now completely relaxed, without realizing that, at some point during that conversation, the initial tension had simply... disappeared.

The towel was still there.

But it was no longer held tightly.

Her body was no longer rigid.

She just... was.

Strax opened his eyes.

Slowly.

And looked at her.

Observed.

Without haste.

Without immediate comment. And then, a slight smile appeared at the corner of his lips.

"It does, doesn’t it...," she murmured, agreeing softly.

Her eyes drifted down for a moment—not invasively, but naturally—noticing something that had changed without her realizing it.

She wasn’t hiding anymore.

She wasn’t tense anymore.

Just... relaxed.

There.

With him.

As if it were normal.

Strax moved his arm.

Slowly.

Resting on the stone ledge behind her, without touching directly, but creating a clear, comfortable proximity, without pressure, without haste.

"Look," he said, with a light tone of quiet observation. "It seems you’ve calmed down."

Agnes blinked.

As if only then realizing it.

Her eyes drifted down for a moment.

Then returned to him.

And this time—

She didn’t turn away immediately.

She just stood there.

In silence.

But different from before.

Very different.