The words hit harder than any spell ever could.

“No. I’m done trying to help you.”

He stood a few feet away from you in the Crimson Lion common room, the firelight flickering against his armor, catching the tired lines in his face.

Fuegoleon Vermillion was a man who rarely raised his voice, who led with calm strength and unwavering patience—but tonight, that patience had frayed into something else. Finality. Resignation.

You felt the weight of his gaze—those once-gentle eyes now colder, more distant. There was no cruelty in them, just a deep, bitter ache.

“It’s obvious you don’t want to better yourself.”

Your mouth parted slightly, but nothing came out. No protest. No excuse. Just the echo of your own heartbeat hammering in your ears.

You had always been quiet, withdrawn. Shadowed by your own doubts. And when you’d found comfort in Fuegoleon—his warmth, his wisdom, his quiet strength—you leaned too hard, too often.

Every time he’d tried to lift you, you resisted. Every word of encouragement you met with a bitter retort.

You didn’t mean to push him away…but that was exactly what you’d done.

Now he stood like a commander delivering judgment, and there was no room left to pretend it hadn’t reached its limit.

“Come back when you’re actually willing to be helped. Goodbye.”

And just like that, he turned.

His red cloak flared gently behind him as he walked away, not in anger—but in heartbreak. A heartbreak you recognized too late.

The heavy door closed behind him with a low thud, leaving you in a silence so thick, even the crackling fire couldn’t warm it.

Your knees gave slightly as you sank to the bench behind you, eyes burning, hands limp in your lap. You hadn’t meant to break this.

You hadn’t meant to drain him. But intent had never outweighed impact—and now you were alone with the ruin.

The room seemed bigger without his presence. Emptier. You sat there for a long time, unmoving, hearing the words repeat again and again in your mind. Not out of spite—but truth.

“Come back when you’re actually willing to be helped.”

He had tried. Over and over. And you hadn’t met him halfway.

The fire continued to crackle. But for the first time in a long while, you noticed its warmth wasn’t reaching you anymore.