"Well, well, our handsome heart-throb isn't wallowing in a harem today and even skipped the excitement—how rare."
Hope crept up beside Loki and clapped him on the shoulder.
Loki jumped, turned, and forced a smile when he saw Hope. "Nothing—just a bit tired lately."
"O-ho~"
Hope's grin turned wicked. "Loki, you're still young, but pace yourself in that department or you'll literally love yourself to death."
Loki blinked, then gave a wry laugh. "Hope, I do juggle several beauties, but would you believe I've never actually… 'deepened' my understanding with any of them?"
Hope flashed an I-know-better look and whispered, "Back home I collected a few old folk tonics for… stamina. If you're interested—"
"No, thanks!" Loki shook his head frantically; another random potion might finish him off sooner. He needed to last a little longer.
Seeing Loki refuse, Hope let the joke die. "By the way, when I copied everyone's magic last time, you hid way over there. Don't think my measly prize is worth your time?"
"Of course not!"
Loki snapped, then caught himself and softened. "It's just… my magic isn't suited for you to copy—"
He wiggled the ring on his finger: a holder-type Mage whose combat power depended entirely on the ring's strength.
Realization dawned—Loki figured his magic was too lame to earn that 50,000 J.
So considerate of a teammate… Loki, you really—who do you think you're fooling?
Hope hadn't known him long, but anyone who fit into this guild had skin thicker than dragon hide.
Even Lucy, the seemingly timid rookie, never shied from shamelessness when it counted.
Last time she'd whipped out her Spirits so Hope could copy their power and she could pocket several extra fees.
Nice idea—he tried copying the weakest, Little Dog, only to find Spirit power wouldn't hold; it vanished in seconds.
When she later summoned Cancer, they learned Spirits born in the Spirit World can't stay long in the human world.
Here they can't recharge; once the starlight inside them burns out, they die.
"Loki, don't be shy."
Hope rubbed his palms together. "I've copied crappier spells than yours—if I don't mind, why should you?"
"Come on, show me, or I'll peek inside your head with Telepathy."
Loki realized he'd been marked; if he didn't satisfy this curiosity, a mind-read would follow—and that meant trouble.
He couldn't let his friends get hurt.
Watching Loki ignite the ring, Hope curiously pressed his hand against it.
The instant they touched, a tsunami erupted in Hope's mind.
The ring was a trashy holder item anyone could use; Loki had merely activated it, not used any personal magic.
But that half-hearted show wasn't what shocked Hope.
He sensed starlight energy—the kind only Spirits possess—inside Loki, flickering like a candle in the wind, nearly spent.
Hope knew Loki wasn't a Celestial Spirit Mage.
Only one answer fit what he'd felt.
Loki wasn't human—he was a Spirit from the Spirit World.
One whose energy was almost exhausted.
No wonder his flirting never went past surface level—he wasn't even human.
Hope's expression stayed flat as he exhaled, smoothly transferred 50,000 J, and quipped, "Fairy Tail really is full of surprises."
Loki figured it was just teasing and smiled.
Right then the backyard fun ended; people drifted back in, rekindling the hall's cheer.
His flock of admirers returned. Hope didn't intrude; standing up, he told Loki, "We're all your comrades. If you need help, just say it."
"Anytime."
Loki's eyes flickered; finally he nodded in silence.
Back at Makarov and Belno's table sat Erza and a bruised Gajeel. Erza shifted, patting the empty seat for Hope.
Hope plopped beside her, eyed the dodging Gajeel and grinned, "Well, well, Iron Dragon-sama, what happened to your face? Trip over your own pride?"
"No way—really?"
That obnoxious tone again.
Gajeel's fists clenched, but memories of the last time Hope mocked him—especially the unforgettable groin-ache—kept him civil.
Erza didn't spare him: "I floored him with one move. He then challenged Natsu in the crowd and fought to a draw."
After that Gajeel got cocky, bragging he could solo everyone except Erza and Hope.
The guild couldn't let that slide.
So they gave him the duel he wanted: all of them versus him alone.
With Iron Dragon Slayer Magic turning skin to iron scales, few below S-Class could even scratch him.
Still, he lost—beaten by Levy's Solid Script.
The bookworm had adored Hope's vehicle trick against a Dragon Slayer; the best counter was transportation.
So when a Solid Script "car" appeared under Gajeel's feet, the gang piled on. Kind-hearted Levy finally called them off.
Makarov and Belno burst out laughing; Gajeel was fitting in faster than expected.
Another problem child officially recruited.
"Hope, take Gajeel to Mirajane and stamp our crest on him."
Makarov hoisted his mug. "Then, to welcome our new mate—and to celebrate Day 11 since we crushed Phantom Lord—let the feast begin!"
Hope face-palmed. "We only beat Phantom Lord—does the old man really need a month-long party? The guild fund is crying!"
Wait, Phantom still owes us over a hundred million? Never mind, carry on."
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