Looking at Belle standing before him, Andrew found himself unexpectedly moved, a quiet swell of feeling rising in his chest before he could stop it.
Maybe...
Maybe it was precisely this — this incomparable sense of responsibility that Belle carried whenever she took on the duties of a Proxy, the absolute safety she gave to the people in her care from the first moment a commission began to the last — that was the true reason why Belle and Wise had become the legendary Proxies that all of New Eridu spoke of in the same breath.
That conviction. The belief that no matter what dangers waited inside the Hollows, no matter what came at them from the dark — she would never abandon her client. Never give up.
Andrew didn't doubt it for a single second. Not even a little.
If he truly failed to return by the agreed deadline, Belle would actually do it. She would drag Anby and whoever else she needed into the picture, find a new Rift, and march straight into the Monster Hunter world to come get him herself.
He didn't refuse her warnings or her instructions.
He simply gave a quiet, steady nod to show he understood — completely, without reservation — and then reached out with both hands and carefully accepted the sleeping Eous from Belle's grasp, solemnly stowing it away into his Item Bag.
Seeing that, Belle finally gave a small, satisfied nod.
Then Andrew, in turn, reached back into his Item Bag and produced three complete sets of armor — the Gore Magala sets he had finished crafting the previous night — and held them out to Belle.
"Belle, could you do me a favor and pass along Astra's and Evelyn's sets for me?"
Then, not quite able to resist, Andrew added with equal seriousness:
"For the time I'm away from New Eridu — whenever you go out for a meeting or a supply run, make sure you're actually wearing this armor. Promise me."
Looking at all three sets laid out before her, Andrew spoke with quiet, absolute confidence:
"With this armor on, as long as you're even a little careful, the only thing that should be able to seriously threaten you is the aftermath of an Elder Dragon-class disaster. Short of that? Even if you run into a regional apex monster and take the full brunt of the environmental damage it causes, you'll hold out long enough for Meow-Da to reach you. Guaranteed."
"And even if you take a few direct hits," he continued, "as long as you use the healing potions I'm leaving behind, it won't be anything you can't recover from."
Beyond that, Andrew went on to cover a scattered collection of other details he'd been meaning to say.
The different effects and uses of each potion and the various smaller tools he was leaving behind. Specific precautions for specific situations. And most importantly — the full details of the new agreement and understanding he had just reached with the Mayor. He laid it out carefully, piece by piece, making absolutely sure Belle had it all.
The last thing he needed was for that crafty old fox to take advantage of Belle's not knowing and squeeze something extra out of her while Andrew was gone.
Because honestly? Andrew genuinely believed the Mayor was exactly the type to pull that sort of move — using things he was already supposed to provide as though they were personal favors, racking up goodwill he hadn't actually earned. The moment Andrew's back was turned, too.
Belle, knowing full well that every word of this — the armor, the instructions, all of it — came from a place of genuine concern for her safety, didn't feel the slightest trace of impatience.
She accepted the Gore Magala armor Andrew held out without a moment's hesitation, pulling it close and cradling it against her chest.
The moment the fabric's impossibly soft fur made contact with her hands, her eyes lit up.
She had already known she was going to love it before she even looked, simply because it was a gift from Andrew. But the moment she actually saw the armor — its specific design, its shape, its detailing — something that could only be described as 'unwilling to let go' took hold of her immediately.
Astra's design sense was the real deal — no exaggeration about that. The silky-soft texture of the fur combined with the absolutely adorable silhouette hit Belle somewhere deep and immediate, and she found she genuinely couldn't look away.
She puffed out her chest proudly and declared:
"Don't you worry, Andrew! I promise I'll wear it every single day — I'll even sleep in it!"
"...You really don't have to go that far," Andrew said.
Listening to Belle's spectacularly over-the-top declaration, Andrew couldn't quite stop a helpless laugh from escaping.
Exaggerated as it was, it served its purpose well enough — he could tell from it that she had actually taken in everything he'd said and would follow through. That was all he needed to know.
It was right at that moment that the shop door — which had been closed until now — was suddenly pushed open from outside, and a new silhouette stepped in.
At first, both Andrew and Belle assumed it was just a new customer walking in and paid it little mind. But the clear, crisp sound of footsteps kept moving — not toward the shelves or the counter, but steadily, purposefully in the direction of the workshop door.
It was only when they registered where those footsteps were heading that both of them finally looked up.
Right on cue, the voice of Little 18 — the Bangboo responsible for minding the front of the Random Play Video Store — floated in from just outside.
"Mmph! Mmph-mmph-mmph, mmph-mmph mmph! (Customer! Customer! The store is already closed, and no matter what, that area back there is a private zone — it is absolutely not open to the public!)"
The footsteps paused.
Then a voice drifted through — one that both Andrew and Belle found oddly familiar. Cool and unhurried, stripped of anything resembling visible emotion.
"However. I just asked Twentie outside, and it told me that Andrew is currently in this workshop."
"Mmph? Mmph... mmph-mmph! (Twentie said that? Well... that may be, but that still doesn't mean you can just walk straight into the work—!)"
Hearing the familiar name of Twentie had clearly caught Little 18 off guard — and it showed. The conviction behind its blocking stance had visibly wavered by several degrees.
But then it caught sight of the uniform the visitor was wearing.
The insignia of the Hollow Special Operations Section 6.
Public Security.
The cops.
The knowledge that its beloved owner was currently inside the workshop — an owner whose association with certain legally ambiguous activities was, to put it diplomatically, not something that needed to be in front of law enforcement — sent a bolt of panic straight through Little 18's tiny frame. Suppressing its instinctive terror through sheer willpower, driven by the desperate need to not be left homeless when its owner got hauled away, the little Bangboo held its ground and planted itself squarely in the visitor's path.
At the same time, its gaze was flickering anxiously toward the workshop's heavy iron door every few seconds.
Silently, from the bottom of its heart, it prayed that its dear shop manager would use whatever precious seconds it was buying to clear away every last shred of incriminating evidence in that workshop before it was too late.
And if the visitor just gave up and left on her own, well — that would be ideal. Absolutely ideal.
Sadly, Little 18's hopes were dashed.
The visitor had stopped walking at Little 18's argument, yes. But she showed absolutely zero intention of turning around and leaving.
Faced with the blockade in front of her, the visitor simply stood where she was — carefully, almost tenderly cradling a honeydew melon against her chest with both hands — and chose to stay exactly where she was.
The whole posture communicated one thing, loud and clear: If I can't go in, I'll simply wait here until the end of time itself.
The standoff stretched.
And then — creak.
The workshop door swung open, nudged by Little 6 at Belle's quiet signal.
Belle had already made a fairly confident guess at who it was from the voice alone. But the moment she actually saw the person standing in the middle of the shop floor, facing down Little 18 with that signature flat, utterly unreadable expression — she couldn't help it. Her face broke into a wide, genuinely delighted smile and she waved enthusiastically.
"Miss Miyabi?! It really is you!!"
As expected.
The one standing in the center of the shop, effectively pinned in place by Little 18's one-Bangboo blockade — was none other than Hoshimi Miyabi. The very same Hoshimi Miyabi whom Andrew had sent out on a shopping errand not so long ago.
Miyabi, upon hearing Belle's voice, took only the briefest moment of quiet consideration before the voice clicked into place.
True, the electronic interference yesterday had introduced a slight distortion. But for someone with Miyabi's hearing, that kind of minor static was nowhere near enough to make her misidentify the voice that had guided both her and Andrew so meticulously through every turn of Hollow Zero during yesterday morning's operation.
And the fact that Andrew was standing right beside Belle only confirmed it.
"Miyabi, you're back?"
Andrew spotted her at the same moment and lifted a hand in a casual wave — and then, in the same breath, moved naturally into an introduction.
"This is my girlfriend, and my personal Proxy — Belle."
Belle accepted the introduction with a gracious, completely unabashed nod.
"That's right! Though to be more precise, I'm Andrew's first girlfriend. There's also a second and a third to come~"
Hearing Belle announce that so openly, so matter-of-factly, with such breezy self-possession — Andrew, whose mindset had technically been reshaped to accept this arrangement but whose habits had absolutely not finished catching up — felt a flicker of involuntary awkwardness he simply couldn't suppress.
He scratched the back of his head on reflex, cleared his throat quietly, and offered:
"Anyway — Belle, along with her brother Wise, is the Proxy 'Phaethon' — the one who provided us with route support throughout the Nineveh interception yesterday."
Miyabi straightened slightly and inclined her head in a small, respectful bow at once. The calm, measured tone she always carried took on the faintest, almost imperceptible quickening — just a trace of warmth breaking through at the edges.
She looked at Belle with genuine solemnity and said:
"Hello. It's a pleasure to meet you, esteemed Proxy Phaethon. Everything we accomplished yesterday was built on your support. I owe you a sincere debt of gratitude."
As for Belle's status as Andrew's girlfriend — that, honestly, had not caught Miyabi off guard in the slightest.
If anything, she had already noticed it back during the operation itself, when she had observed the easy, natural warmth in the way Andrew and Belle interacted. It had been written plainly enough that she had simply... noted it and filed it away.
If anything, she would have been far more surprised to learn he had no girlfriend at all at this point.
As for Belle's cheerful announcement of 'first girlfriend, second, third' — that too fell squarely within the range of things Miyabi had already half-expected.
The fact that Belle was the one volunteering that information, openly, without any sign of hesitation — it told Miyabi everything she needed to know. This wasn't something Andrew was hiding. All parties involved knew. All parties had agreed.
That made it none of Miyabi's business.
She gave the faintest, almost imperceptible nod at that thought.
She wasn't one of Andrew's girlfriends, after all.
And since this was an arrangement built on complete, mutual transparency — with everyone's full knowledge and consent — to interfere would simply be wrong. (The footnote here is purely academic.)
And yet.
For some reason she could not immediately explain — even though everything about this situation was entirely reasonable, entirely proper, entirely without fault — something small and nameless flickered into existence somewhere deep in Miyabi's chest. A faint, inexplicable twinge of displeasure.
It appeared quietly, without announcement, the moment Andrew finished his introduction.
Small. But undeniably real.
The feeling arrived so suddenly and without reason that Miyabi herself — who had never experienced anything quite like it — found she couldn't pin down where it was coming from.
For some reason she couldn't name, she now had a faint, inexplicable urge to go find Wuwei and cut something.
Miyabi's elegant brow furrowed — barely, just a hairline shift.
...It must be a lingering aftereffect from Wuwei's previous rampage.
The thought sent her mind skidding off in a completely unrelated direction — but no matter how sideways the reasoning had gone, having a reason was enough. The moment she had something to blame, the tension in her chest quietly released.
As Wuwei's wielder, this was precisely the kind of thing she was always on guard for. The emergence of anomalous thoughts. Irregular emotional surges.
For Miyabi, when it came to these things — the anomaly appearing wasn't what frightened her. What frightened her was when the anomaly appeared and she could find no cause.
Because an emotion that rose without reason was exactly the sort of thing that could, if left unchecked, become the seed of Wuwei's next rampage.
A slow, quiet breath in.
The years of daily cultivation she had committed to the tempering of her own spirit did their job without fanfare. She closed her eyes for just a few seconds — and when she opened them again, that small flicker of discontent had been extinguished entirely.
Only then did Miyabi truly let herself exhale.
As for Belle's status as a Proxy — someone who operated in New Eridu's gray zones.
That alone might have given Miyabi pause under other circumstances. But the conduct she had witnessed during yesterday's crisis spoke loudly enough on its own. By that measure, Miyabi had already recognized Belle as someone firmly on the side of justice.
So the moment Andrew made the introduction and she understood that Belle was Phaethon — she had already made up her mind. A sense of genuine goodwill toward Belle took root almost immediately.
And somehow, for a reason Miyabi couldn't quite articulate —
That goodwill was also the primary thing that had caused the strange flicker of displeasure to dissolve so quickly.
Belle, entirely unaware of the quiet journey Miyabi's thoughts had just traveled, found herself receiving a formal, earnest bow of respect from a bona fide Void Hunter — and felt her vanity receive a rather spectacular boost in real-time.
In that moment, a feeling rose in her chest that could only be described as: so this is what it feels like when the legend you heard from Andrew's mouth steps out of the story and becomes real.
So this was what it meant to become a legendary Proxy. Right here. This exact feeling.
But then, as quickly as the pride had swelled, the ever-so-slightly thin-skinned Belle felt her cheeks warm. She waved her hand with a bashful little laugh, rubbing the back of her head.
"Hehe, no need to be so formal! Just call me Belle, Miss Miyabi~"
Miyabi — who already felt a natural warmth toward Belle — had absolutely no objection.
"Understood, Belle."
A small nod to seal it.
Then, because Miyabi herself was equally unwilling to be addressed with such distance by someone she had already come to think well of, she offered the same in return:
"In that case — you and Andrew may simply call me Miyabi."
Belle's eyes lit up instantly. She nodded with great enthusiasm.
"Deal! Consider it settled!"
Two people who had already recognized each other on the battlefield, now meeting face to face for the first time — and finding that getting along was the most natural thing in the world.
For some reason Andrew couldn't quite account for, he was struck by the oddly specific sensation of a husband nervously introducing a new person to his existing wife.
He shook his head and banished the thought firmly.
For one thing — Miyabi had never once expressed any kind of romantic interest in him. Not even a hint. To Andrew, she was simply an incredibly reliable ally — much like Yanagi. No more, no less.
Thinking of her that way was, if anything, the only appropriate framing. Anything else would be getting ahead of himself in a way that wasn't fair to her.
Meanwhile, standing to the side and watching its owner chat with perfect ease and familiarity alongside someone in full Public Security uniform — after all parties' identities had been made explicitly clear — Little 18's tiny eyes began to shine with something approaching spiritual revelation.
If the owner could maintain this kind of warm, openly familiar relationship with an official law enforcement officer — even after said officer knew exactly who they were dealing with — did that mean... from here on out... Little 18 would never have to live in fear of an official inspection again?
This... this was incredible!
Was this actually happening?! Did this mean it never had to worry about that undercover Public Security officer disguised as a Forest Thiren who had a habit of hanging around the vicinity of the shop for no apparent reason?!
Little 18's internal celebration, however, went entirely unnoticed by Belle.
Having concluded her own quiet train of thought, Belle looked at Miyabi — who was still holding her honeydew melon with both hands, cradling it carefully and gently against her chest — and tilted her head curiously.
"That said — Miyabi, why did you suddenly come looking for Andrew here?"
But then, before Miyabi could even open her mouth, Belle's eyes widened as a theory arrived fully formed.
"Ahh! Don't tell me — you're here to ask Andrew to teach you combat techniques?"
The question, however, never made it to Miyabi — because Andrew, who had just that moment realized he had completely forgotten to mention any of this to Belle (having had his full attention occupied by Belle's rather intense guilt-tripping), stepped forward first.
"Ah — actually, let me be the one to explain this part."
____
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