Stray

Oliver subconsciously touched his pocket and almost dropped the sandwich in his arms. He quickly caught it and, in the process, bump his fingers against something hard.

It was the bad-tempered aristocratic warrior in their group.

Leonard was standing in front of him and made a scrunched-up face, as if he had seen something terrible. A layer of cold sweat suddenly appeared on Oliver’s forehead. Fortunately, he didn’t use much strength when he was catching the sandwiches, otherwise he would have accidently knocked this man back and it would’ve been hard to explain afterwards.

“Sorry,” he apologized sincerely.

It seemed that the skills of the school hospital were quite good. Leonard didn’t seem weak or tired. He just stood coldly, holding a piece of parchment paper in his hand.

“You are in the way,” Leonard rolled his eyes and spoke unceremoniously.

Oliver hugged the sandwiches tightly, confirmed his position, then had a terrible guess. “…You want to bet on Tumbleweed?”

He was so shocked that he even forgot to move out of the way.

“It has nothing to do with you. Get out of the way, deserter.” His tone sounded provocative. Leonard raised his voice angrily and was about to reach out to push Oliver.