Prompt: Sometimes we don't realize what someone means to you until they're gone. Noelle really missed Asta. Her old Asta.
—
The sun was barely over the treetops when Noelle caught her reflection in the glass window of the Black Bulls' base.
Hair pinned perfectly.
Uniform pressed.
A pink ribbon in her hand.
She stared at it.
It was simple. Cute. Not too flashy.
Vanessa had helped her pick it out—said it would suit her. Said Asta would notice.
Her fingers trembled as she lifted it toward her head.
Just tie it on. Casual. Like it's no big deal.
Noelle took a breath. In, then out.
You're just going for a walk. And if you run into Asta? So what. You look good.
She tied the ribbon into her hair.
Then immediately untied it. Retied it. Untied it again.
"Ugh."
She practically threw it onto the dresser.
Why is this so hard?
Downstairs, she could hear Asta shouting something about push-ups.
He was probably training again.
As usual.
Like always.
Like forever.
Her heart twisted.
Noelle stomped toward the door, then paused.
Picked up the ribbon again.
Tie it once. Then go.
She secured it quickly this time, as if speed would stop her from second-guessing herself.
Then she marched out of her room and down the hall.
It's just a walk. You'll talk. He'll say something stupid. You'll insult him. Maybe he'll blush. That's enough.
She stepped into the common room.
And froze.
There he was. Shirtless, sweaty, glowing in the morning sun. His grin stretched wide as he waved at her, one dumb hand still holding his dumb dumbbell.
Her heart did that annoying fluttering thing again.
She scowled automatically. "Put on a shirt, you muscle-obsessed idiot."
He blinked. "Huh? Oh, sorry Noelle! I didn't see you there!"
Didn't see me?! I'm right in front of you!
"I mean, I saw you," he added quickly. "But I was focusing on my curls! Gotta max out before breakfast!"
Noelle grit her teeth.
Her fingers twitched, aching to slap the dumbbell out of his hand.
Not because she was angry.
Because he looked through her.
Again.
She glanced at the kitchen table.
Her breakfast tray was there. So was his.
She had cut his fruit into stars.
Stars.
Even Charmy had looked impressed.
Asta looked right at it and said, "Whoa! Someone's really talented! I bet Grey made that!"
Grey had turned so red she actually passed out.
Noelle hadn't said a word.
Just left the room.
She regretted that now.
She should have said something.
Like, Actually, I made that for you, idiot.
Or Do I look like Grey to you?
Or just, Notice me for once in your damn life.
Instead, she'd sulked upstairs and told herself it didn't matter.
But now, seeing him grin like nothing had happened—seeing her ribbon fluttering in the corner of his blind vision—something cracked.
He stretched and flexed. "Gotta get even stronger today! Sister Lily always said strength comes from persistence!"
And there it is.
Noelle's stomach dropped.
Her expression didn't change. But inside, she was sinking.
"Still talking about Sister Lily?" she asked, arms crossing.
Asta nodded, totally missing her tone. "Of course! One day she'll see how serious I am! Even if she's said no like—what? Twenty-eight times? Thirty?"
"Thirty-three," Noelle muttered.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
She spun on her heel and walked away.
Her chest ached.
She hated this.
Hated how he could train beside her and still not see what she was really trying to say.
Hated how he could fight for everyone's dreams except the one right in front of him.
Hers.
She stormed into the courtyard, fists clenched.
Magical pressure prickled around her. Unstable. Barely held in check.
I'm so tired of this.
Every compliment twisted into an insult.
Every gift dismissed.
Every glance ignored.
He's so dense it's painful.
She punched the air.
A blast of water shot toward the sky, crashing into a tree and splitting it in half.
Good.
Another tree exploded.
He deserves it.
Another. Then another.
"Noelle?"
She spun around.
Finral stood a safe distance away, holding his grimoire in both hands like a white flag.
"Are you… mad?"
She didn't answer.
He took that as a yes.
"Did Asta say something stupid again?"
"He always says something stupid."
Finral gave a slow, understanding nod. "Want me to teleport him to the top of a volcano for a few minutes?"
She blinked.
"…Don't tempt me."
They stood in silence.
Birds scattered from the treetops. Her magic still rumbled faintly under her skin.
Finral scratched his head. "Have you tried just, you know… telling him?"
Noelle glared. "You think I haven't tried?!"
He raised his hands.
"I mean, not directly. But like… more directly than you usually are?"
Noelle's mouth opened.
Then closed.
Then opened again.
Then stayed shut.
Finral smiled awkwardly. "I get it. It's hard."
She looked away.
"I shouldn't have to spell it out." Her voice was quiet.
He didn't respond.
She whispered, "Why can't he see it? Everyone else does."
Even Magna. Even freaking Zora.
How could the most observant fighter in the squad be so romantically blind?
"Maybe he needs a little help," Finral offered. "Not a lot. Just… a boost."
Noelle frowned.
A boost.
The idea lodged itself in her head.
Not a confession.
Not a kiss.
Just… a little push.
Not to make him love her.
Just enough for him to understand.
She turned to Finral. "Do you think Sally could make something like that?"
He blinked. "Like what?"
Noelle crossed her arms again. "A… potion. Or spell. To increase awareness. Or perception. Or…"
She trailed off, heat blooming in her cheeks.
Finral raised an eyebrow.
"Wait. Are you talking about your awareness or someone else's?"
She gave him a look.
He whistled. "Ohhh. It's for Asta."
Noelle flushed brighter. "Shut up. I didn't say that."
"Nooo, of course not. You just happened to bring up potions right after blasting trees and ranting about him ignoring you. Totally unrelated."
"I said shut up."
He smirked but backed off.
"So… you want Sally to make Asta smarter?"
"Just a little." She emphasized with a scowl. "Not a genius. Not some magical prodigy. Just enough to see what's right in front of him."
Finral tapped his chin.
"Sally's potions are unpredictable. But she does like weird experiments."
Noelle nodded.
Unpredictable or not… it's better than this.
She couldn't keep waiting for him to open his eyes on his own.
Because she was starting to think he never would.
—
The forest smelled like burnt copper.
Noelle wrinkled her nose as she stepped over a smoldering root.
Of course Sally lives in a lab that stinks like a magical accident.
The further she walked, the more unnatural the trees became.
Twisted trunks. Glowing mushrooms.
Something blinked at her from a branch. Then scurried away with a wet plop.
Disgusting.
She hugged her cloak tighter and kept walking.
A familiar cackle echoed through the trees.
Noelle stopped.
"Welcome back, Royal Girl!"
Sally's face popped out of a tree trunk.
Literally.
Her whole head squished through the bark like slime through a sieve.
Noelle stepped back. "Don't do that."
Sally grinned wider. "But it's fun! I installed that portal last week!"
"Gross. Take it down."
"Make me!"
Noelle sighed.
This was going to be painful.
—
Sally's lab hadn't changed since the last time Noelle saw it.
Still crowded. Still bubbling. Still 90% hazardous.
A living frog the size of a cow was chained to a corner, chewing on a glowing brick.
In the center, Sally stirred a cauldron with a leg bone.
She looked thrilled.
"So what's the request this time?" she chirped.
Noelle hesitated.
She had practiced this speech on the walk over.
Kept it simple. Clean. Vague.
But now that she stood in front of Sally—watching her balance on one foot while inhaling fumes—it felt like juggling live eels.
Sally blinked. "Well?"
Noelle crossed her arms.
"I need… a potion."
Sally's grin widened.
"No kidding. This is a potion lab."
"A specific kind," Noelle pressed. "Something to… enhance intelligence."
Sally's entire body twitched.
"Ooooooh."
Noelle took a step back.
Sally was vibrating.
"You want a brain booster?!"
Noelle cleared her throat. "Nothing extreme. Just a small improvement. A little more awareness. Better… perception."
She made a vague swirling motion with her hand.
"Like, more emotionally tuned in? Less oblivious? Able to pick up on social cues?"
Sally tilted her head.
Noelle's heart skipped.
Did I just say too much?
"…So basically, like, higher logic and emotional understanding?" Sally asked.
Noelle nodded—too fast.
Sally hummed.
"I see. I see. Of course! Makes perfect sense!"
She whirled around and started yanking ingredients off the shelves.
"Of course it's hard for royals to keep up with research demands these days! Mana theory is getting so complex. You're probably falling behind, huh?"
"…What?"
"You're always such a high-achiever! I bet this is about keeping your edge in court academics!"
Noelle blinked.
Wait.
Did she think the potion was for her?
"I mean, you're already pretty smart," Sally continued, pouring glittery powder into a beaker. "But if you're asking for help, it must be serious!"
Noelle opened her mouth.
Then shut it.
Correcting her would mean explaining why she really wanted the potion.
Which meant saying the words out loud.
Which meant—
"I'm flattered, really," Sally went on, scribbling notes furiously. "That you trust me with this. Most nobles wouldn't even consider it. But I'll make you something perfect. Something revolutionary."
Wait—no.
"I don't need anything revolutionary—" Noelle began.
Sally ignored her completely.
"I'll adjust the mana absorption rate, increase memory capacity, and add linguistic enhancement. Oh! Maybe even suppress the emotional filter! That way you'll be free from bias!"
Suppress what now?!
"I just need three hours!" Sally shouted, already disappearing behind a curtain. "Don't touch anything!"
Noelle stood there.
Stunned.
Bottles clinked. Lightning crackled. Something screamed.
She looked down at the bubbling cauldron.
I should say something. I should clarify.
She didn't.
Three hours later, Sally returned holding a flask of shimmering silver fluid.
It pulsed like a heartbeat.
Noelle stared at it.
"This'll increase intelligence?" she asked cautiously.
Sally beamed. "Beyond your wildest dreams! It's still experimental, so I can't guarantee duration, but the brainpower boost will be massive."
Noelle narrowed her eyes.
"Massive… how massive?"
Sally shrugged. "Genius-level! Possibly divine! Definitely dangerous! But brilliant!"
Genius. Dangerous. Divine.
That wasn't what she asked for.
But her pride stopped her tongue.
It'll be fine, she told herself. Just a small dose. Just a sip. What's the worst that could happen?
She took the flask.
Tucked it into her cloak.
And left the lab without saying another word.
—
The next morning, the hideout was peaceful.
Birds chirped. Charmy snored. Gauche stared at pictures of Marie.
And Noelle stood in the kitchen, gripping the edge of the counter.
The silver flask sat next to the coffee pot.
She stared at it.
Just a little.
She uncorked it.
Steam drifted upward, smelling like metal and mint.
She poured three drops into Asta's mug.
Not four. Not five.
Just enough to open his eyes a little.
She stirred gently. The potion dissolved instantly.
By the time Asta bounded into the kitchen, she was sitting at the table pretending to read.
"Morning Noelle!" he shouted, flopping into the chair across from her.
She grunted a greeting.
He grabbed his mug and drank it all in one go.
Every.
Last.
Drop.
She watched, holding her breath.
Then he set the mug down, wiped his mouth, and grinned. "That was great! Thanks for the coffee!"
Noelle nodded.
Casual. Calm. Controlled.
"Training again today?" she asked.
He nodded, stretching. "Of course! Gotta keep working! Magic or not, I'll be Wizard King someday!"
Same words. Same smile.
She released the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
Maybe it didn't work.
Then Asta blinked.
Paused.
His whole body froze.
The mug in his hand cracked.
Noelle shot to her feet. "Asta?"
He didn't answer.
He was staring at the wall. Eyes wide. Unfocused.
Then he whispered, "Oh."
He blinked again.
"Ohhh."
Then stood slowly, turning to face her.
"Noelle."
She took a step back.
"…Y-Yeah?"
He stared at her.
Not through her.
At her.
Her breath caught.
"Have you always had asymmetrical bangs?" he asked calmly. "They indicate a subconscious desire to present as both structured and emotionally independent."
She blinked. "What?"
He picked up her book from the table. Flipped through it once. "Outdated theories. Poorly cited. Biased toward mid-tier elemental styles. Remind me to revise the water magic entries later."
She gawked.
He turned, took three steps, and started scribbling on the wall with chalk that hadn't been there before.
"Quantum grimoire theory needs a complete overhaul. This is child's play."
"Noelle," he said without turning.
"…What?"
"I'll need access to the Royal Archives. And three live devils for dissection."
"WHAT?!"
But Asta didn't answer.
He was already calculating the gravitational pressure of mana circulation around the human soul.
And Noelle could only stare in horror.
What have I done?
—
It started with the books.
Stacks of them.
From the Black Bulls' library, from the capital, from Julius's private collection—how Asta got access, no one knew.
They piled up around his room like fortresses.
And he read them.
All of them.
Not skimmed.
Not browsed.
Read.
Cover to cover. Notes scribbled in margins. Theories corrected. Flaws circled and annotated.
By noon, he'd already rewritten two major volumes on battle strategy.
By sunset, he invented a spell-scaling model that made Magna cry.
Noelle watched it all unfold.
First with awe.
Then confusion.
Then something darker.
—
"Asta, breakfast."
She held out a plate of eggs.
He glanced up from a floating chalkboard.
"Oh. Food. Yes. Necessary for basal energy maintenance. Thank you."
He took the plate without looking and absentmindedly balanced it—on his head.
He kept writing.
"Shouldn't you sit—?"
"I've modified my equilibrium. Don't worry."
Noelle blinked.
The plate didn't wobble.
How is that even—
She shook it off. "What are you even writing?"
"Calculating the metaphysical instability of mana-dense atmospheres during dimensional breaches," he replied.
Then added, "Also, planning an optimized training regimen for Luck based on neurological stimulation and adrenal response timing."
"…Right."
She sat down.
He kept going.
"And also designing a new magic item that stores kinetic energy in the folds of enchanted fabric—Yami keeps tearing his shirts."
Okay, that one sounded normal.
Sort of.
—
By the end of the second day, Asta had stopped shouting.
No loud declarations. No laughing. No bickering with Magna.
Just quiet muttering.
Rapid writing.
And—somehow—telekinetic multitasking.
He floated five pens at once.
Wrote in different languages.
Backwards.
On the ceiling.
Noelle found him sleeping upside down on a support beam.
With equations trailing across the walls like veins.
Vanessa stared, bleary-eyed, wine glass in hand.
"Is this a dream?" she muttered. "Did I drink too hard again?"
Gordon sniffled. "He's transcended. He's one of us now."
"He's not one of anyone!" Magna shouted. "He's a monster!"
They all turned to Noelle.
Waiting.
Wanting answers.
She had none.
I just wanted him to understand me, she thought.
Not… this.
—
Day three.
Blackboards. Everywhere.
Even in the bath.
Grey screamed when a formula appeared in the mirror while she brushed her hair.
Asta didn't leave his room anymore.
Not unless he needed more materials.
Or to reconfigure someone else's technique.
He rewired Gauche's Mirror Magic to calculate angles automatically.
He upgraded Charmy's food magic to balance calories perfectly without changing flavor.
He told Vanessa her Red Thread's probability manipulation had a .00003% failure rate and fixed it.
Even Henry's slow speech got sped up with a resonant frequency charm.
No one knew whether to thank him or cry.
Noelle did neither.
She just watched.
Every time he passed her, she tensed.
He didn't look at her anymore.
Just around her.
Past her.
Through her.
Like I was a problem he already solved.
—
"Hey Asta," she tried one afternoon. "Want to train together? You, uh, said you'd help me work on my Sea Dragon's Roar."
He paused, mid-chalkboard.
Turned.
"I already calculated your potential trajectory paths," he said.
Tossed her a scroll.
"It's all there. Read it, practice, adjust based on feedback."
Then turned back to his notes.
No smile. No "You've got this!" No gleam in his eye.
Just cold, calculated dismissal.
Noelle stood frozen.
The scroll slid from her hand.
He didn't even look at me.
—
By day five, the kingdom noticed.
Julius himself dropped in—literally—from a spatial gate. Probably Cob's.
Asta didn't bow.
Didn't fawn.
Just handed him a book.
"Your temporal acceleration theories are 87% flawed."
Julius blinked.
Read.
And fainted.
—
The nobles came next.
Curious. Jeering. Ready to mock the commoner "playing scholar."
They didn't last ten minutes.
Asta dissected their entire magical lineage with a glance.
Shredded their mana techniques in polite monotone.
One woman burst into tears.
A nobleman stormed out muttering about "brainwashed peasant freaks."
Asta never raised his voice.
He didn't need to.
Noelle stood off to the side, arms folded, watching him reduce centuries of magical arrogance into rubble with a single bored sentence.
The Bulls should have been cheering.
But they weren't.
Even Yami looked uneasy.
"Kid's smart now," he muttered, flicking ash off his cigarette. "Too smart."
Finral nodded. "He looked at my teleportation arrays and rewrote them with… crayon."
—
Day six.
Noelle tried again.
This time with more desperation than she cared to admit.
"Asta. Can we talk?"
He blinked. Looked up from a spell core he was dissecting.
"I'm busy."
"It's important."
He paused.
"…Efficiently important or emotionally important?"
She flinched.
"…Emotionally."
"Then no."
Her breath caught.
"What?"
He looked up.
Expression unreadable.
"You're in love with me," he said flatly.
Noelle's face went white. "W-What?!"
He held up a scroll.
"Based on your eye movement, tone shifts, proximity frequency, and mana fluctuations, the statistical probability of romantic attraction is 98.4%."
She gawked at him.
Mouth open.
"I deduced it three days ago."
She stared.
Then screamed, "And you didn't say anything?!"
He tilted his head.
"There was no need. Your feelings are illogical distractions. We're comrades. Affectional entanglements reduce mission efficiency."
Noelle clenched her fists.
"You—"
"But if I ever decide to reproduce," he added calmly, "you are the most viable candidate due to your superior royal genetics and physical health markers."
Her mouth opened.
Then closed.
Then opened again.
Nothing came out.
Her entire face went crimson.
"You absolute—"
"Statistically, you're already ovulating," he added.
She punched him.
Hard.
Right in the face.
He didn't even dodge.
Just took the hit, nodded, and said, "Violent outbursts—typical defense mechanism of emotionally overwhelmed individuals."
Noelle stormed off.
Shaking.
Furious.
Heartbroken.
I did this.
I turned him into this.
And I don't know how to undo it.
—
That night, she curled up on her bed.
The hideout was quiet.
Too quiet.
Even Luck had stopped sparring. Vanessa stopped drinking. Gordon stopped whispering through the walls.
Asta worked alone in the dark, diagrams glowing across the stone.
Noelle stared at the ceiling.
Eyes stinging.
He was so warm.
So alive.
Now he's just…
She covered her face.
And whispered, "I want him back."
—
She didn't cry at first.
Not when he calculated her feelings like a math problem.
Not when he called them "illogical."
Not even when he compared her to breeding stock.
She didn't cry.
She burned.
—
Her magic exploded in the training yard.
The blast cracked stone.
Shattered trees.
She didn't stop.
Didn't care who saw.
Didn't care that she almost hit Magna when he got too close.
She just kept firing.
Over and over.
Until her mana fizzled out and her body dropped to the ground.
Sweating.
Panting.
Empty.
You idiot.
You beautiful, stupid, perfect idiot.
—
She avoided him after that.
Not that he noticed.
He was too busy constructing a mana-converting tower that could theoretically power an entire city.
Too busy drafting laws to equalize noble-commoner magic education.
Too busy dismantling three war economies with a single essay.
He'd saved entire kingdoms with a few strokes of a pen.
But he couldn't see her.
Not anymore.
—
She curled up on the roof one night.
Stared at the stars.
They used to train under those same stars.
Used to laugh.
Argue.
He used to say her spells were "awesome," even when they weren't.
He used to kinda-sort-of blush if she got too close.
Now?
Now he corrected her breathing patterns mid-spell and walked away before she could say thank you.
—
Vanessa joined her on the roof.
Didn't speak at first.
Just sat there, wine bottle dangling from her fingers.
Finally, she asked, "You gave him that potion, didn't you?"
Noelle flinched.
Then nodded.
Vanessa didn't judge.
Didn't scold.
She just sighed. "You miss him."
"…Yeah."
Another sip.
"You loved him because he was dumb, didn't you?"
Noelle's throat tightened.
Not because he was dumb…
But because he cared.
Because he tried.
Because he'd look at her like she was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen—and mean it.
Because he believed in her when she didn't believe in herself.
Because he made her feel seen.
She didn't say any of that out loud.
Just whispered, "…I didn't think I'd lose him."
—
The next morning, Asta delivered a thirty-page thesis on emotion suppression and battlefield performance.
Left it on her desk.
Handwritten.
Neat.
Detached.
She didn't read past the second sentence.
Instead, she shoved it off the table and let the pages scatter across the floor.
He's gone.
And it's my fault.
—
Gordon offered her tea.
It was terrible.
She drank it anyway.
Magna tried to cheer her up with sparring.
She destroyed the training dummy in one hit and left without a word.
Luck offered to blow something up.
She almost said yes.
Almost.
But what she wanted wasn't destruction.
It was Asta's stupid grin.
His relentless optimism.
His dumb, clumsy words.
His belief in her.
Not her magic. Not her bloodline. Her.
—
Charmy brought her a cake shaped like Asta's head.
It didn't help.
—
By day nine, the Black Bulls stopped whispering.
Stopped pretending everything was okay.
Finral openly begged Asta to stop "fixing" his spells.
Gauche snapped when Asta recalculated Marie's allowance plan without asking.
Even Henry asked him to leave the hideout for a while.
Asta nodded.
Didn't argue.
Didn't frown.
Just floated away on a mana-construct platform.
Quiet.
Alone.
Noelle watched him go.
And realized something horrible.
He doesn't even feel lonely.
—
The silence left in his absence was worse.
It stretched.
Heavy.
Unnatural.
The Black Bulls without Asta were like a sky with no stars.
Everyone breathed easier.
But no one smiled.
Not really.
—
Noelle stared at herself in the mirror.
Dark circles under her eyes.
Tension in her jaw.
She looked like someone else.
Someone colder.
Someone who made a mistake she couldn't take back.
You wanted him to understand your feelings.
Now he does.
And he thinks they're a waste of time.
Her throat clenched.
I ruined everything.
—
Late one night, she pulled out the potion bottle.
The empty one.
Just held it in her hands.
Studied the label.
Unreadable scribbles from Sally.
Why didn't I read it?
Why didn't I ask more questions?
Because she didn't want to admit the truth.
Didn't want to say, I'm doing this because I love him and I'm too much of a coward to say it.
She clenched her fists.
Glass cracked under her fingers.
No more games.
—
The next morning, she found Sally.
Dragged her out of her lab by the collar.
Sally blinked, half-asleep. "Huh? Did I start levitating again? Or did I gain telepathy this time—?"
"What the hell did you give me?!"
Sally's eyes lit up.
"Oh! That worked?! That was the prototype! I didn't think—"
"Sally."
Noelle's voice was ice.
Sally gulped.
"…Okay, okay. So, um. It boosts cognitive processing. And suppresses the limbic system."
Noelle stared.
"The what?!"
"Emotions," Sally said, waving vaguely. "You know. The squishy, feely stuff. Love, fear, joy—kind of gets in the way of high-functioning logic, so the potion dampens all that to keep the brain focused."
Noelle's heart stopped.
"You suppressed his feelings?!"
"Well, yeah! I thought you wanted to be smarter! You seemed really desperate! I assumed it was for that!"
Noelle staggered back.
The room spun.
Sally tilted her head. "Wait. You gave it to someone else?! Who—"
Noelle was gone.
Already running.
Already planning.
—
We have to fix this.
Before it becomes permanent.
Before I lose him forever.
—
She ran through the base, shouting for Vanessa, for Finral, for anyone.
She didn't care if she looked crazy.
Didn't care if the others stared.
She only knew one thing.
I still love him.
And I'm not giving up.
Not again.
—
It started with a debate.
One of Clover Kingdom's top magic theorists challenged Asta to a public forum.
Asta didn't just win.
He annihilated him.
Line by line.
Theory by theory.
He didn't raise his voice once.
Didn't even look smug.
Just calmly, clinically dismantled twenty years of published research.
And walked off the stage before the man finished stammering his rebuttal.
—
The next day, Asta rewrote three pages of Clover's constitution.
By lunch, the nobles were protesting.
By dinner, they were begging Julius to rein him in.
—
Julius, for once, was speechless.
He'd been studying a particular grimoire anomaly for a decade.
Asta solved it in ten minutes.
No reaction.
Just, "Your system miscategorized cross-elemental affinities. Here's the corrected chart."
He even apologized for not pointing it out sooner.
Julius looked like someone had stolen his birthday.
—
The Magic Parliament asked Asta for a report.
He sent them a sixty-page thesis.
In footnotes.
The main document was over two hundred pages.
He CC'd it to Damnatio just to watch him squirm.
—
The nobles called him a menace.
The scholars called him a miracle.
The peasants weren't sure what to call him—but they all agreed it was getting weird.
—
He redesigned the magic transportation network to reduce mana waste by 84%.
He discovered an ancient war tactic that made even Yami blink.
He debunked Star Magic as "inefficient light-based refraction."
Yuno blanked.
Mereoleona tried to punch him.
He dodged without looking up from his scroll.
Said, "You're leading with your shoulder again."
She roared so loud, the birds fled the forest.
—
The Black Bulls were falling apart.
Finral couldn't teleport in peace—Asta kept rerouting his spatial magic mid-cast "for optimal momentum."
Luck's magic output dropped because Asta "recalibrated" his lightning gloves to reduce excess charge.
Gauche locked himself in a room after Asta pointed out a 97% chance that Marie would grow fed up with his sister complex in three years.
He graphed it.
—
Charmy cried.
Vanessa drank more.
Henry actually left the base.
Noelle?
Noelle was unraveling.
—
They tried everything.
Magna slapped him.
Didn't work.
Luck zapped him.
Only made Asta comment on electromagnetic feedback.
Vanessa tangled him in Thread Magic and spun him in a chair until he puked.
He thanked her—for revealing that vertigo altered his short-term spell recall.
He took notes while throwing up.
—
"Just jump him in a back alley!" Magna said.
"WHAT GOOD WOULD THAT DO?!" Noelle shrieked.
He wasn't a brute.
He wasn't a monster.
He was still Asta.
Just… not the one they knew.
—
She found him on the roof one evening.
Staring at the sky.
Same spot they used to train.
Same stars.
Same breeze.
But he didn't turn when she landed beside him.
Just said, "The constellation Vega shifted point-two degrees. Atmospheric magic must be influencing spatial tilt."
Her throat clenched.
"You used to say it looked like a sword."
He blinked slowly.
"I must have been mistaken."
Her fists curled.
"You weren't."
—
"I've been calculating your behavior," he said suddenly. "You're angry with me."
She stared.
"I estimate a 93.4% probability that you regret giving me the potion. I suspect emotional longing. Possibly romantic in nature."
Her heart stopped.
He figured it out.
But then he said, "I advise against it. Such feelings would compromise your decision-making abilities."
Her heart shattered.
He wasn't cruel.
He wasn't mocking.
He was just… gone.
—
"You think I'm illogical?" she snapped.
He nodded. "Emotion, by nature, is irrational. It clouds clarity."
"…So what am I to you now? A variable? A genetic asset?"
"I believe we've already discussed reproductive compatibility. Your mana potential—"
She slapped him.
Hard.
His head snapped to the side.
He blinked.
Touched his cheek.
"…That was inefficient."
She stormed off before she screamed.
—
Back at the hideout, the squad was already planning.
They cornered Sally. Just like she had done.
Made her spill everything.
The potion suppressed limbic activity to expand cortical focus.
Asta's brain had been rewired.
His feelings shoved into a locked room while his mind raced ahead.
Sally shrugged. "I thought he was acting too calm. Guess I overdid it."
Magna almost threw her out the window.
—
They needed a cure.
But Sally hadn't made one.
She didn't think it would work the first time.
No one was surprised.
Noelle was furious.
—
She paced the lab like a caged lion.
Watched as Sally mixed chemicals, muttering about neural synapses and "emotional memory retention."
Noelle didn't understand most of it.
Didn't care.
She just wanted him back.
—
"I'm not doing this to make him fall for me," she said quietly.
Sally glanced up.
"I'm doing this because… I miss him."
Sally blinked.
"…That's actually kind of sweet."
"Shut up."
—
The Bulls pooled every resource.
Luck hunted rare herbs at lightning speed.
Charmy cooked stabilizing reagents.
Vanessa spun protective spells in case the antidote backfired.
Finral scouted magic shops across the kingdom.
Even Gordon contributed—his creepy mutterings somehow made a formula work.
It was chaos.
It was loud.
It was messy.
It was them.
—
Noelle looked around at her squad.
Her family.
And realized something else.
They were trying to save her, too.
—
As the antidote neared completion, Noelle made a decision.
She wouldn't hide anymore.
No more hints.
No more outbursts.
No more waiting for him to figure it out.
If this worked—if she got him back—
She'd tell him everything.
—
No metaphors.
No sarcasm.
No games.
Just the truth.
I love you, Asta.
—
And this time, she wouldn't wait for him to connect the dots.
She'd draw them for him herself.
—
The antidote exploded twice before Sally got the mixture stable.
Once because Luck sneezed on it.
Once because Gordon whispered something too creepy and the magic flinched.
Sally threatened to quit.
Vanessa bribed her with enchanted gloves.
Charmy made soup.
It helped.
Sort of.
—
They worked for three straight days.
Noelle barely slept.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face.
Not the cold one buried in formulas.
The real Asta.
Laughing.
Shouting.
Training shirtless in the sun like an idiot.
She missed him so much it made her chest ache.
—
The base was quieter without him.
Not in volume—Luck and Magna were still disasters.
But in spirit.
Without Asta's wild energy, the Bulls felt off-balance.
Like a wheel missing a spoke.
—
On the fourth night, Sally called her into the lab.
The antidote was done.
It shimmered silver-blue in the flask, pulsing softly like a heartbeat.
"Administer it orally," Sally said, yawning. "Preferably in one go."
Noelle stared at the bottle.
She nodded once.
And held it like it might break her if she squeezed too hard.
—
Finding Asta wasn't hard.
He was in the library again.
He'd taken over the entire east wing.
Books floated around him in a perfect orbit, flipping pages on their own.
He scribbled furiously, muttering calculations about "mana inheritance vectors."
Noelle hovered in the doorway.
He didn't look up.
Didn't sense her mana.
Didn't smile.
—
She took a breath.
Walked in.
"Hey."
He glanced at her.
Frowned. "You're three minutes early."
"Sorry I didn't schedule an appointment," she snapped.
He blinked. "That was sarcasm. An inefficient form of communication."
Her hands clenched around the flask.
—
"You know what this is?"
He looked at it. "Chemical. Unknown base. Likely alchemical in origin."
"It's the antidote."
He blinked again.
No surprise.
Just calculation.
"…You made one."
"We all made one," she said tightly.
He nodded. "That explains the reduced squad presence. I assumed a side mission."
Her heart squeezed.
He didn't notice their absence because he didn't care.
Not the way he used to.
—
"Drink it."
Asta tilted his head. "Why?"
Her voice cracked.
"Because I want you back."
He stared at her.
Blank.
Mechanical.
"I am still me."
"No," she whispered. "You're not."
—
"You stopped talking about your dreams."
He blinked.
"You stopped yelling in training. You stopped chasing after Sister Lily. You stopped caring."
His jaw tightened.
Not in anger.
In confusion.
—
"You think you're better like this," she said. "Smarter. Sharper. Stronger."
She stepped closer.
"But you're not."
He opened his mouth.
She held up a hand.
"I'm not done."
—
"You lost your heart, Asta."
Her eyes burned.
"You lost the part of you that fights even when it's hopeless. The part that screams at the sky when people suffer. The part that—"
She choked.
"The part that makes you you."
—
He stared.
For once, he had no words.
Just silence.
—
"You're the one who taught me to fight."
"To believe."
"To love."
She met his eyes.
"So I'm fighting for you now."
—
She raised the flask.
He didn't move.
"Please."
Still nothing.
Her hand trembled.
—
Then—
His fingers brushed hers.
Took the bottle.
And for the first time in weeks—
He hesitated.
—
"It's illogical," he murmured.
His eyes met hers.
"But I… want to understand."
She held her breath.
He drank.
—
The change wasn't dramatic.
No bright lights.
No magical shockwave.
Just… stillness.
—
Then the books dropped.
All at once.
Papers scattered.
Quills snapped.
The room was quiet.
So quiet.
—
He slumped forward.
Noelle caught him.
Felt his weight in her arms.
Felt the heat of his skin.
He was breathing.
He was okay.
—
And then—
"Agh, my head," he groaned.
She froze.
He blinked up at her.
"Why do I know how to solve magical capitalism?"
She burst into tears.
—
"Uh—w-wait! Why are you crying?! Did I say something?! Is this about Sister Lily?! I swear I'm over her—kind of—okay maybe not over—"
She hugged him so hard he nearly tipped backward.
—
He flailed. "I-I'm sorry?! What did I do?! Are we fighting?!"
She just laughed into his shoulder.
And didn't let go.
—
His voice was small. "I was… weird, wasn't I?"
She nodded against him.
"Did I say smart stuff?"
"You were a jerk."
"Oh."
"…Did I still have abs?"
She smacked his chest.
—
He smiled.
Her heart caught.
Because it was him.
Really him.
Not a genius.
Not a machine.
Just her loud, stubborn, infuriating idiot.
—
And she wasn't going to waste this second chance.
—
Asta was back.
Not partially.
Not halfway.
All the way.
Loud. Grinning. Shirtless.
Inexplicably eating five eggs at once.
—
The base hadn't been this noisy in weeks.
Luck challenged him to spar within ten minutes.
Magna cried when he yelled "YAMI'S GONNA KILL ME IF I CAN'T DO 5,000 PUSH-UPS!"
Charmy baked a three-tier cake shaped like his head.
Gordon and Gauche said something emotional and unintelligible.
—
Asta laughed through it all.
Noelle watched from the stairs.
Arms folded.
Heart hammering.
—
She'd made a decision.
No more games.
No more half-truths.
No more tsundere cowardice.
If she could sneak him a potion, she could damn well say how she felt.
—
Now she just had to actually… do it.
Which was hard.
Because every time she walked toward him, he smiled like a puppy.
And every time he smiled, her resolve melted a little.
—
She cornered him in the training yard at sunset.
He was doing push-ups with a boulder on his back.
Counting loudly.
Sweating.
Shirtless again.
She stared too long.
Immediately hated herself.
—
He noticed her.
"Hey Noelle! You need to train? Wanna use the boulder next?!"
She ignored the heat in her face.
"No. I need to talk to you."
He froze mid-push-up.
Then sat up, blinking.
"Am I in trouble?"
"Not yet."
"…Should I be?"
"No."
"…Are you mad?"
"Asta."
"Sorry."
—
She took a breath.
Then another.
The wind rustled.
His eyes stayed on her, confused but soft.
—
"I love you."
He blinked.
Paused.
Tilted his head.
Like a puppy hearing a new sound.
—
"I'm not saying it twice."
Silence.
He scratched his head.
"…You mean like… like love love?"
She narrowed her eyes sarcastically. "No, Asta. I meant platonically love. Idiot."
"Oh! So like, romantic love."
"Yes!"
"Ohhhhh."
—
He went very still.
Face slowly turning red.
"…Wait. Wait wait wait. You—you love me?"
She looked away.
Ears burning.
"Yes."
—
He stood.
Wobbled slightly.
His mouth opened and closed like a fish.
Then—
"THAT'S AWESOME!"
—
He launched at her.
Wrapped her in a massive hug.
Lifted her right off the ground.
She shrieked.
"PUT ME DOWN!"
"Nope!"
"Asta—!"
"I KNEW you liked me a little but I didn't know know!"
Her heart was going to explode.
He was laughing.
Spinning her in a circle.
—
She finally shoved him away.
He set her down, grinning like the sun.
"Does this mean we're dating now?!"
Her brain short-circuited.
"Wha—no—maybe?!"
"COOL! So do I get to hold your hand and stuff?"
"I—stop asking so many questions!"
He nodded solemnly.
"Okay."
Then grabbed her hand anyway.
She didn't pull away.
—
They walked back to the base like that.
Quiet.
Blushing.
Her hand fit weirdly well in his.
—
The others noticed immediately.
Charmy gasped.
Luck cheered.
Vanessa grinned into her wine.
Magna dropped his drink.
Gordon whispered, "My ship has sailed."
—
Yami stared for three seconds.
Then walked away muttering, "About damn time."
—
Asta stayed glued to her side.
Literally.
He tried to "romance study" her using a borrowed book from the castle.
His first question was "Do you prefer roses or large slabs of protein?"
She screamed.
Then kissed his cheek.
—
He passed out from happiness.
—
That night, in her room, Noelle lay in bed.
Heart full.
Head spinning.
She didn't regret the potion.
Not really.
Not anymore.
Because it made her see what mattered.
—
Not his strength.
Not his brains.
Just him.
Her idiot.
Her heart.
—
And he was hers now.