In front of the silent mountain gate, Leo's casual "all done" seemed to still echo in the air.
Upon hearing this, Sasaki Kojirou first froze slightly, then let out a hearty, low chuckle.
He shouldered his long sword and looked Leo up and down with a gaze mixing curiosity and admiration.
"Master, I've truly opened my eyes."
His voice was full of teasing, "I didn't expect your face to be sharper than my 'Tsubame Gaeshi.' That master-servant pair practically fell apart."
This solitary swordsman clearly didn't care how the battle ended—he appreciated the results more.
In his view, Leo's seemingly absurd yet highly efficient methods were undoubtedly a form of powerful "martial arts."
"You flatter me, just some unorthodox tricks." Leo smiled bitterly through his hood.
"Hahaha, whether orthodox or unorthodox, any sword that can cut down the enemy is a good sword."
Kojirou waved his hand carelessly, "Since the trouble has been resolved, I'll continue guarding the gate. If any more uninvited guests arrive, I'll buy you time."
With that, he said no more. His figure turned, once again facing the long stone steps, merging into the shadows of the mountain gate like a statue, continuing to fulfill his duty as "gatekeeper."
To him, this farce had ended, and he was more concerned about the next potential challenger.
However, Medea didn't share Kojirou's carefree attitude.
She stood quietly in place, her violet eyes gazing at the ridiculous hood on Leo's head with complex emotions.
The disguise was so laughable, yet whenever she thought of the face revealed beneath that hood, and the consequences it triggered—consequences that nearly distorted reality—an indescribable chill rose in her heart.
That face... that unreasonable charm that could directly manipulate hearts...
And the means of using that charm to induce women, making them willingly serve him...
——"...My dear Medea, for my sake, go get the Golden Fleece."
——"For you, I'm willing to do anything."
Some memory fragments, long buried deep in her heart, belonging to her time as the Princess of Colchis—vague and unpleasant—emerged like ghosts.
The shadow of that similarly handsome man, similarly skilled at weaving lies with sweet words—Jason—seemed to overlap ominously with her Master before her at this moment.
Although Leo had acted to resolve a crisis, although he had warned her not to look, his method of exploiting women's emotions to achieve his goals had completely stepped on the minefield of her most painful memories.
An instinctive vigilance and wavering from the depths of her soul began to grow in her heart.
[Will he... be the same as that man?]
[Will I... repeat the same mistake?]
This entanglement was so heavy that it made her forget to speak.
Fortunately, she was now in her Lily state with immature mentality. If she were the adult witch who had experienced betrayal and revenge, what would have risen at this moment wouldn't be alarm bells, but an absolute barrier of distance.
She might not hate Leo for it, but she would definitely choose to stay away from this person who could make her relive her past nightmares at any moment.
Leo keenly noticed Medea's silence.
He didn't say much at the mountain gate, only saying softly to her, "Let's go back, Caster."
Back in that familiar guest room, the dim yellow light stretched their shadows long.
Leo sat down on the tatami and broke the silence before Medea, who still stood at the door with an uncertain expression.
"Are you afraid, Medea?" he asked straightforwardly, his voice calm and frank.
Medea's body trembled slightly. She lifted her head, her lips moved, but ultimately no sound came out.
Was she... afraid?
She didn't know.
It wasn't fear of powerful strength, but a deep-rooted rejection and unease toward a similar fate.
Admitting fear felt like denying her choice of Master, like admitting her own weakness.
But if she said she wasn't afraid, how could she explain the cold feeling that lingered in her heart?
In the end, she chose silence.
Seeing her complex expression, Leo understood.
He let out a gentle sigh, then said something completely unexpected to her.
"If... you truly feel worried and uneasy," Leo raised his hand and pointed to the hood on his head, "you can use your magecraft to place a restriction on this hood."
Medea's pupils constricted sharply as she looked at him in confusion.
"A restriction... that only you can unlock, and that I absolutely cannot remove by my own will."
Leo's voice was clear and firm, without a trace of hesitation, "Put the switch to control this 'weapon' of mine in your hands."
"That way, you should be able to feel more at ease, right?"
"......"
These words struck like thunder in Medea's heart.
She had imagined countless possibilities.
Leo might explain, might comfort, might use more beautiful words to cover up like Jason did.
But she never imagined he would choose to do this.
This wasn't taking, wasn't exploitation, and definitely wasn't manipulation.
This was... entrustment.
It was handing over control of his most powerful, most dangerous ability to her hands, unreservedly and proactively.
This was an ultimate honesty, an act of complete trust that exposed his back entirely to his ally.
The man who only made her give everything, and the man before her willing to bind himself for her peace of mind...
Jason's shadow was completely shattered at this moment.
Medea stared blankly at Leo, the wavering, unease, and turmoil in her heart caused by old shadows dissipating rapidly like morning mist dispersed by the sun.
Replacing them was an unprecedented warm and solid emotion.
She finally understood that the person before her was completely different from the hero in her memories who brought destruction.
"...It's not necessary."
After a long while, Medea finally spoke, her voice still slightly trembling, but unusually firm.
She slowly walked to Leo and sat down, seriously gazing at his face hidden by the hood.
"Master, we don't need that kind of thing between us."
She took a deep breath, as if to exhale the last bit of gloom from her heart.
"I choose to trust you. Not trust in your restraint, nor trust in any binding restriction."
She lowered her head slightly, then raised it again. Those beautiful violet eyes held no trace of wavering anymore, only clear, pure trust.
"What I choose to trust is your character."
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