Another night of work has gone by, and I start feeling the tiredness creeping in.

Working night shifts is not easy, not even after I’d done that for a few years. It takes time before you get into the right routine; and even that right routine is something that you wouldn’t wish upon your worst enemy.

And the why is quite simple.

Humans are not really night creatures.

We need sun to energize ourselves, not unlike Superman.

I’m just less jacked and with a plethora of weird powers, instead of super-strength and the ability to fly.

I do a mean tongue-rolling-click though. And when you pair that with a wink, it’s much better than flying around and looking like a bird.

And while I have these thoughts, my personal Lois Lane pops out of nowhere.

She doesn’t take notice of me, for all I’m covered in flour and quite conspicuous. I’ll wash with a bucket of heated water and a bar of soap that Clodia threw at me before after I told her that I have yet to take a proper bath.

I didn’t sweat that much, though, so my personal fragrance was still tolerable.

“Wa—”

I cut myself off when I see her meeting a dashing Elf, much taller than me, probably even taller than Lucillus.

The guy is wearing a white robe and it clearly contours a body fit for a prince.

He smiles with wisdom, beauty and heroism.

She giggles and softly punches his shoulder, probably for an improper remark.

It seems that my designs for Lucinda are not working.

I exhale.

What hurts in that scene of two perfect people getting together, probably to discuss magic or whatnot, is the subtext. It’s not the scene itself. I barely know the girl, for all I have as inexplicable thing for her.

It’s that he is a mage. And he looks powerful.

To be sure, I activate for the second time the only ability I earned.

[Advanced Mana Sense]

The world explodes in a myriad of lights and figures. And that man talking to Lucinda is like a lighthouse in the dark.

I swiftly deactivate the skill before it can overwhelm me.

I shake my head.

When I project myself into the future, what hurts me is not that Lucinda may end up with such a guy, but that every single Lucinda in this world will.

Flaminia said that I shouldn’t meddle with her, that she’s going to the Nine Towers Academy. What a mouthful, honestly. My baker friend told me that she is going to need references, recommendations and so on.

If you think about it, it’s pretty much like dating an aspiring lawyer who wants to go to Yale and then off to a big law firm.

They live in another world. They choose to put the rest of their life on the curb while they focus on one goal. And one only.

There’s no place there for baking.

And I speak from experience; maybe that is why it hurts so much.

For a second, I am tempted. I know how powerful the spell tome I wield must be. And I know I could be an [Archmage] or whatever that thing is. I mean, I don’t know. But something tells me that I could.

I could scorch the earth, topple mountains, and split oceans.

Imagine all the things I could do, all the people I could amaze. Kingdoms would come begging, wouldn’t they? And I could be King, and Lucinda, this one or the next one, could be my Queen.

There are solutions for everything. There is a solution for my jealousy, a solution that would have me reach for the highest power, climb on top of everyone else.

And it’s all in the book, isn’t it?

I could go to the damned Nine Towers Academy and make it a pile of rubbles. I could sweep Lucinda off her feet. And maybe—no, probably, she would fall for me.

My carefree mind has been tempted in the past. I’m not a monk, nor am I immune to ambition.

But I rejected it.

I put away my feelings and I try to just not think of Lucinda. It’s not the first Lucinda I meet, it’s not the first Lucinda I fall for. It’s fine. It is what it is. No hard feelings.

I mean, not that I can completely control those.

“Luciani?” I hear a familiar male voice while I drag my feet away from the scene where I have just left yet another piece of my heart.

“Lucillus?” I turn toward him, and I give him a smile. I’m sure some sadness is obvious, but there’s not much I can do about it.

“You are crying,” the man states matter-of-factly.

I touch my cheek and I find a bit of wetness.

“Yeah, kind of, aren’t I?” I shook my head.

It’s not sobbing and wailing, it’s just a few tears.

The man is sharp as an arrow and looks in the distance toward Lucinda who’s still joking with the handsome man.

Lucillus sighs and takes my arm, deaf to my protests.

“What are you doing?” I ask, stunned.

“Shut up, come with me,” the tall Elf says.

He drags me for a hundred feet or so to a pub. By now, my tears are dry, but he still kicks me in.

“Ever been in an elven pub?” he asks from behind me.

“Not really. What do you drink, nectar mixed with rose petals?” I snort.

“Humans,” the tall Elf spits out the word more tired than disgusted.

“Eligius! Two pints and fill them up!” Lucillus shouts toward the bartender, earning a thumb-up in return.

“This establishment is where I usually come to relax and avoid people like you,” Lucillus turns toward me and smiles.

It is pretty much how you would imagine your medieval pub. A lot of darkened wood, thick tables and a few people day-drinking like us.

Lucillus makes me sit at one uncharacteristically clean table and goes to the counter to take our beers.

“So, human. What’s up?”

“You know, I don’t really have any coin on me,” I smile toothily.

“My cousin is probably worried that you would waste them. You got a house and she sung your praises yesterday. The beers are on me, don’t worry. You’ll have plenty of time to repay me in the future, and plenty of occasions too if you keep chasing girls like that.”

After that remark, we don’t really talk about my feelings or anything. We share a beer, I gather some new curious facts about Amorium, like how the war is going and so on.

But we don’t talk about Lucinda, nor do we talk about love.

We chill.

And that’s it.

Two men sharing a beer at the pub around noon.

That’s all I need to mend my broken heart.