"Viretta."

Iola, who had buried his face in his palm, tilted his head back.@@novelbin@@

"Yes, Iola."

"Viretta."

"Yes."

"Viretta..."

Iola, calling her name three times, shut his mouth tightly.

He removed his hand from his face and quickly put on clothes, just like Viretta had done earlier.

He wore pants that were still damp and put on a jacket over them. But, seemingly wanting to dry his shirt properly, he hung it near the campfire.

With only a leather jacket over his pants, Iola looked like a rather rugged musician. He awkwardly turned his gaze away.

Although he hadn't cried, his eyes strangely appeared a bit red.

"Why are you suddenly getting dressed? It's funny to say, but your clothes are still wet."

"Seeing you again makes me feel embarrassed. I feel like I’ve neglected my appearance."

Iola, who was grooming himself for a completely different reason from Viretta, made her feel uneasy.

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