The summoning ritual had failed. Or perhaps, depending on who was asked, it had succeeded in the worst possible way. The kingdom had sought a legendary warrior—a hero clad in steel, blessed by the gods, destined to repel the monsters gathering beyond the northern frontier.

Instead... They summoned you. No sword. No divine blessing. No combat experience. Just an ordinary person from a world that had never known magic. The court called it a mistake. The scholars called it an anomaly.

The High Priest simply stared at you for a long while before quietly saying, "...Our spell reached beyond the veil. We brought back someone who was never meant to cross it."

No one realized the true problem until later. Your world had possessed no mana. Not a trace.

When you entered this one, the endless magic woven into the air rushed into your body all at once. To everyone else it was as natural as breathing.

To you... It was poison. The first sign was a headache. Then dizziness. Then your vision blurred.

You collapsed before anyone understood what was happening.

By the time healers reached you, your heartbeat had become frighteningly weak. Magic wasn't healing you.

It was overwhelming every part of your body.

One healer after another failed. None of their spells worked. Some even made it worse. Then someone arrived.

"...Move."

His voice wasn't loud.

It didn't need to be.

Everyone stepped aside. Tall.

Cotton-pink hair that caught the evening light.

Clear eyes that carried an unsettling calm. Hiro.

One of the strongest magic users on the continent.

People whispered his name with admiration... And a little fear.

He knelt beside you only once before his expression changed.

"...I see."

"What is it?"

"She isn't injured."

"...Then why—"

"Her body doesn't recognize mana."

Silence spread across the room.

"It thinks the world's magic is an illness."

No spell in any textbook could fix something like that.

So Hiro made one. Not overnight. Weeks of research. Ancient songs. Forgotten runes.

Healing circles that only he understood. A spell designed for one person. You.

"The goal isn't just healing," he explained after you finally woke.

"It's adaptation."

Your head felt heavy.

"Adaptation?"

"I'll slowly teach your body to recognize this world's magic."

"...Can... anyone do that?"

"No."

His answer was immediate.

"I've altered my own mana to become... compatible with yours."

He smiled faintly.

"It will take time."

"How long?"

He looked genuinely uncertain.

"Months."

"...Maybe years."

The treatment became part healing... Part training.

Every evening Hiro visited. Sometimes your condition was mild.

Just a headache. A little fatigue.

Sometimes you barely made it home before collapsing onto your couch.

Those were the difficult nights. The spell required precision.

Layer after layer of glowing runes unfolded beneath you while Hiro quietly sang words from a language long forgotten.

His voice never rose.

It was soft.

Steady.

Almost enough to lull you to sleep. Magic flowed from him into you, easing the ache in your chest.

"Better?"

"...A little."

"Good."

Then came the final part

Physical contact.

Mana traveled best through direct touch.

A hand around yours.

Your forehead against his.

Sometimes a gentle embrace if your condition was especially severe. On the rare occasions your mana had become dangerously unstable... He'd ask first.

"I need closer contact this time."

Your face immediately warmed.

"O-Okay..."

Only after you nodded would he lean in, pressing a brief kiss to your forehead or lips—whatever was necessary for the spell he'd carefully crafted. Warmth spread through your body almost instantly as the chaotic magic settled, and the trembling in your hands slowly stopped.

Every. Single. Time.

You still blushed.

"...Sorry," you'd mumble.

"For what?"

"It's embarrassing..."

His smile always carried the smallest hint of amusement.

"I noticed."

"...Hiro."

"What?"

"You don't have to tease me while saving my life."

"I know."

"...Then why?"

"Because your reactions are adorable."

"H-Hiro!"

Months passed.

Your body slowly improved.

Not cured.

Not yet.

But better.

You could spend longer outside.

Travel farther.

Even use the strange ability you'd unknowingly brought from your own world.

Animals.

Monsters.

Magical beasts.

Creatures others feared would calm the moment you approached.

Hostile wolves lay at your feet.

Dragons lowered their heads to your hand. Even beasts driven mad by corrupted mana became peaceful.

No one understood why.

Least of all you.

Hiro simply watched with thoughtful eyes.

"So..."

"What?"

"We summoned a beast whisperer instead of a hero."

You laughed.

"I guess so."

"I think the kingdom got the better deal."

Everyone noticed the famous mage's habits changing.

He always knew where you were. Always checked whether you'd eaten. Whether you looked tired. Whether today's exposure had been too much.

The stoic commander who terrified criminals with nothing more than a quiet sentence... Became impossibly gentle around you.

"You've overdone it again."

"...Maybe."

"I told you to rest."

"I wanted to help."

A sigh.

Then his hand found yours.

"...Come."

"Where?"

"Home."

"You mean your—"

"Our healing session."

"...Right."

His ears turned just slightly pink.

"You make it sound far more intimate than intended."

"...You literally kiss me sometimes."

"...Medical necessity."

"...Sure."

"...Mostly."

"...Mostly?"

"...Don't make me answer that."

On missions, Hiro remained exactly as legends described.

Calm.

Precise.

Terrifying.

He never shouted.

He simply spoke in a low voice that cut deeper than anger ever could.

"Stand down."

Enemies obeyed before realizing they had. His commands were brief.

Clear.

Perfectly timed.

He never lost focus.

Never hesitated.

Never looked away from the battlefield.

Until...

One day...

You stumbled.

Just for a second.

"Hiro—!"

His head snapped toward your voice. For the first time in years...

The legendary mage's concentration broke. Only because of you.