Michel's Confusion

"—Hey! Wait, wait, wait!?"

Michel, who had frozen stiff like a straight wooden stake struck by some immense force, suddenly shuddered. His body jerked as though startled awake by the violent surge of emotion.

The abrupt outcry carried a breathless urgency that verged on losing control, utterly unlike his usual calm demeanor.

Flustered, he hurriedly waved both hands and stepped forward, trying to catch Xia Ya's departing figure and desperately hold back this absurd situation he could not make sense of. At the same time, he shouted at Xia Ya's retreating back in confusion, his words stumbling over one another, filled with doubt and incomprehension.

His eyes nearly popped from their sockets, while his brain briefly ceased functioning under the overload of information.

All he saw was that Xia Ya stopped, maintained his usual composure, looked back at him, and tilted his head slightly. His eyes held an inexplicable indifference, along with an expression that could almost be interpreted as "confusion."

That unhurried calm hidden beneath the surface only left Michel even more at a loss.

Michel screamed internally, nearly collapsing. No, I'm the one who doesn't understand what's going on here, aren't I!?

The question had been flung straight back at him, and the successive shocks utterly scrambled his thoughts.

That young man's face plainly said, "What's so strange about this?" His hint of innocent sincerity somehow made the whole thing seem incredibly... unserious.

"Why are you the one tilting your head—!?"

Michel desperately swallowed the absurd retort that had already reached the tip of his tongue.

His throat even spasmed briefly from the effort, but compared to the tangled confusion overwhelming him now, such minor reactions were hardly worth mentioning.

He steadied himself and forced himself back into military professionalism and composure, suppressing the emotions raging within him.