"Heard that? Go away! This boy's mother didn't spend hours making the sweets and walking just so someone could rob her precious son! I won't let you!"
Arca envied the Sweets Boy for a moment. Few children in the monastery had loving, living parents, not to mention people who were ready to stand up to them.
They didn't get a dessert every day, either—something about asceticism and moderation. Arca didn't understand it then and didn't understand it now. He'd want a contraband sweet, too, if he was in the bullies' place. But he'd also want to punch them, because they were robbers, and he wanted to fight for justice.
The bullies laughed at Romeo's statement. "What, you want to beat us two-on-three? That's more like one-on-three! Or are you going to use combat magic outside of a classroom? That will get you much into much worse trouble than we can give you!"
As I write this (and previous) chapter... I don't think it will make anyone reading it truly sad, but I think it gives more depth to everything that's going on. Or at least, that was my intent.
I'm still learning as I go.