After breakfast, Turing went for a morning exercise while Merka went somewhere unknown.

After a while of exercise, Turing found it boring and decided to read some books. As usual, he reviewed some human geography. What used to be a routine exercise now felt very unsatisfying and suffocating.

However, despite the mundane physical training, Turing gained some new understanding about the female body.

The legs were too skinny and there was a gap between them. And the body itself seemed to be afraid of intense movements, always tensing up when performing large-scale actions.

Turing discovered the differences between a girl's body and a boy's.

The shoulders were too narrow, and the fat was distributed evenly, making it difficult to see the muscles.

The body structure seemed to give a sense of insecurity.

"No wonder girls are naturally good at magic."

"Otherwise, being so fragile would be dangerous."

But this physical distinctiveness was not a challenge for Turing, who prided himself on the skill of "pushing oneself". A small body structure issue was nothing to Turing.

Turing only wore a pair of underwear, considering it as swimwear. He ran a few laps around the lake and swam around the entire lake island for half an hour before feeling a bit more active. Slowly, he emerged from the water.

On the shore, Turing saw Merka wearing a deep blue bishop's robe. He quietly set up an easel and sat by the lake, painting.

Although he was wearing a bishop's robe, Merka had made some modifications to make it less conservative and serious, even a bit fashionable.

Wearing the bishop's robe, he looked like a blue-black rose carved by the most experienced artist on the lapel of noble clothing.

Silence, swaying, without a deadline.

"Are you tired? Would you like some hot water?"

Merka noticed Turing's arrival and took out the prepared hot water and towel from a small bucket beside him, giving them to Turing.

Turing simply wiped his damp, fruity-scented red hair, draped the towel over his shoulders, drank some hot water, and turned to see what Merka had been painting.

"A sketch."

"Are you painting me?"

Merka smiled awkwardly, shaking his head slightly.

"I'm painting the scenery, what Mammon taught me in Erisburg."

"It seems quite interesting."

"But unfortunately, I didn't study it well back then."

Turing raised an eyebrow with interest, looking at Merka's focused side profile and the simple lake on the canvas.

Under Turing's gaze, Merka felt that the brush in his hand became significantly heavier.

"The outline is too vague. The more three-dimensional something is, the more abstract the lines should be."

"Don't always try to be precise with a single stroke. The contour of an object is formed by the turning of the surfaces, and the form is depicted through light and shadow contrast."

"And the form you're creating is a bit crooked, clearly lacking stability. Look at this tree, Merka..."

Turing carefully pointed out the areas that needed improvement and soon realized that verbal instruction alone wasn't enough. So, he affectionately held Merka's hand and made a few crucial changes.

To their surprise, just a few adjustments made the lakeside picture in Merka's hand much more pleasing.

"Haha... You did such an amazing job with just a few strokes," Turing exclaimed, as he seemed to be seeking praise. Merka pouted and playfully kissed Turing's cheek.

As Merka slowly moved away and looked at Turing again, they expected to see a shy or happy expression. However, Turing wore a serious face.

"Mammon... Who is that?" Turing asked.

"That name sounds familiar," Merka's heart sank, realizing they had let it slip.

When Merka told Turing about their trip to Erisburg, they had only mentioned Samael and omitted Mammon. Merka believed subjecting Turing to the death of yet another sister-like figure would be too cruel.

"..."

As Turing stared at them, serious and puzzled, slowly turning towards their own face, Merka, even without seeing colors, knew that questioning look was glimmering in Turing's eyes.

"Um... Well," Merka hesitated. "Turing, what do you think? When you hear this name, what does it remind you of?"

A cold sweat trickled down Merka's forehead as they decided to throw the question back at Turing.

"This name gives me a... sisterly feeling," Turing replied, rubbing his temple, as if his headache was returning.

Merka quickly stood up and gently ruffled Turing's hair.

"It's alright, no need to overthink it. Let's go back and rest," Merka reassured. "We have plenty of time, and eventually, everything will come back to us."