"That damn bastard..."
I was already dying of embarrassment, but I didn't think he would say something like that there. Alex crouched down, clutched his head, and blamed himself. Once the frustration of defeat faded and his composure returned, the first emotion he recognized was embarrassment.
"Damn it, how am I supposed to face my juniors now?"
Still, the others at least pretended not to see, but I never thought Patrick, that wicked demon, would hit the nail right on the head like that.
"That damn brat, he has no tact at all."
No, well, I guess I should be thankful that, thanks to him, the fighting spirit that was dying in my heart has been rekindled. I am thankful, but...
"It's so embarrassing... Aaargh!"
As Alex was tearing his hair out and blaming himself, someone approached and spoke.
"What does it matter? Such things happen in one's youth."
Alex raised his head and looked up at the person who had spoken to him. There stood an old man with a benevolent impression. He was dressed in plain clothes, an old man of utterly average build with a short beard.
"Ahem, who might you be?"
Alex stopped tearing at his hair for a moment, stood up, and spoke politely. The old man maintained his benevolent smile and said.
"I saw your match. It was impressive."
"Was it?"