Chapter 1709: with translation of chapter title

Title: NO. 324: But it cannot be denied that this is also a particularly hassle‑free method.

It is well known that different trainers always have different training styles.

Thus, the reasons those trainers sign bilateral contracts with the horse girls vary—sometimes for the brilliance they bring each other, sometimes for the tolerance they share—but many more categories are so diverse they can't be summed up in a few words.

Indeed, to put it frankly, the essence of that bilateral contract can be clarified in just one word:

Trust.

Trust your trainer, trust your horse girl; the reason for trusting isn't important—what matters is that possessing that trust brings their contract to fruition.

And maintaining that contract requires nurturing it with even more trust.

Naturally, the horse girls under Oliver Linton's command trust him completely. Yet when it comes to all‑encompassing trust, it is still unavoidable to be called extreme.

After all, not only trainers and horse girls, even blood relatives may not achieve mutual all‑encompassing trust; this is practically impossible.

Even those lovers who claim to love each other more than any other friends or family often place extreme trust only in a few aspects of their relationship.

The trust people speak of is usually limited to certain topics—a one‑sided confidence—not merely empty praise; it must be sought from unusually extreme and heavy emotions.

Such a situation is rare even among Oliver's various girlfriends who each possess extraordinary skills.

Love is emotional, but pure emotion often means extreme fiery love‑hate; such a gravitational black hole is an extreme rarity among people—unless you're a fallen noble silver‑haired lady who refuses to go home and inherit the company, you could never gather such god‑like individuals together.

Although Oliver has served as a deity's customer service and even received letters from his family, he is clearly not a fallen noble's spoiled son, nor does he expect to inherit a family company; even his hair has only a single white strand.

But if you think the argument is about to collapse, you can flip cause and effect: discover that although he hasn't met the preconditions, he has already gathered enough to create a divine being capable of breaking the shattered war.

Though there are many such divine beings, each is unique and not at all homogenized.

This situation also leads to another inevitability: even if one feels an extraordinary affection for the trainer, the differences when broken down are still considerable.

For instance, that one only turns aggressive when its mental imbalance resonates; otherwise it is completely a peaceful Manchester tea seat.

Likewise, that one is blunt, yet steps back half a pace before the final kick, already seeing Narita Hakujin's present condition in each step along the way.

And the Miura Harbor arriving here undoubtedly represents the third type.

"Master, do you have any orders?"

"Go help Bichitsu wash the vegetables."

"Understood!"

Just like the concise and efficient communication when Narita Hakujin coaches the Manchester tea seat, and without mentioning the darkness encountered along the journey taken so far, as if this meeting were merely another part of everyday interaction—this is precisely the trust the horse girl Miura Harbor places in her trainer Oliver Linton.

An all‑encompassing trust.

Enough to make you wonder how their trust was built and what enables it to be so round, clear, and flawless.

Is it from the heartfelt words spoken before the interview? From patiently listening to their requests and then taking them to see the person in charge? Or from the time‑consuming, labor‑intensive, costly effort of finding ways to correct their speech, to correct their electric‑killer attribute?

Or perhaps it's the close bond formed when chatting with their father, almost as if being dragged to become sworn brothers?

Or maybe it's indulgence of their hobbies—not only helping with model assembly and carrying GBN, but also providing the opportunity to upgrade the King Kong Bridge monster card into a Gairatron monster card?

Regardless of the reason, neither party involved has ever harbored these doubts.

Just as Oliver's mirror is false, the moon is illusory, yet in truth it encompasses everything—he actually possesses many traits that many people have.

It lets Sunday Serenity think that Airy Speed is becoming more like him, and lets Mi Bath feel that he is completely the same type as Miura Harbor.

Who influences whom, and who first walked that path… this question is no longer important; what matters is being able to see familiarity in each other, feel familiarity, and thus overcome all the doubts in between, stepping directly into the final realm of "habit."

Here, there's no need to ask further.

Everything should be taken for granted.

Even if she first walked the narrow paths of the festival, even if she asked about something she didn't know the details of and could provide no information, Maruzen Suki still naturally steps onto the normal road and reaches the trainer's side.

She even arrives earlier than several others and secures second place.

Then, following the usual mindset of only caring about the top three, who would take third place?

While Hakujin watches in astonishment as Harbor, seeming like a carefree person, genuinely goes to help, Oliver looks toward the tea seat silently brewing new coffee.

New coffee?

"How many servings is that?"

He asks this suddenly because Harbor neither likes coffee nor loves tea, but instead prefers sports drinks, hot cocoa, and similar beverages due to her daily high‑intensity self‑disciplined training.

So, this newly served coffee…

"... six servings."

Although the tea seat had just been throwing a little tantrum, it ultimately remains a good child whose anger fades quickly; even though its glance at the trainer still carries a hint of unhappiness, it answers honestly.

Its honesty makes Oliver's expression turn subtle.

Six…

Counting the tea seat here, Hakujin, and Harbor, the extra person is most likely Karen.

But the point isn't who that extra person is; it's that these six individuals, even if not from the same batch, should be consecutively rapid—almost as if they could collide with one another.

"Shall we go help in the kitchen? Anyway, Millet isn't here this time."

Ling, peeking in just the right spot, may appear on the Precision II and other external art photos as about 1.7 m tall, but in reality she is only a subtle 166 cm, so Oliver can push her back with a single finger.

"Wait a bit—no matter what, I should finish the test I'm undertaking myself, but since Brother Chōyaku and Miss Seki aren't coming this time, I can just assume she gave up on the mountain‑climbing ordeal because it was too harsh, and why didn't Millet come?"

"She was taken away by the second brother, perhaps due to family matters back home," Ling says, not sure if she's truly indifferent or just doesn't want to elaborate, then turns to glance at the tea seat beside her: "Really not going? Or maybe a couple of drinks to bolster courage would also be good."

"All right, stop teasing me," Oliver says, pinching her cheek with his fingers turned into pincers.

"If I really wanted that, wouldn't you think I'm being embarrassing?"

"Well, there's nothing much—I also kind of miss little Oliver."

"You miss it only if you've experienced it, right?"

"That wasn't last time…"

"Cough cough cough…" Oliver, interrupting with a few coughs under the tea seat's puzzled gaze, waves at Holorhea, who immediately comes over and pulls Ling away.

Then that new red strip came over, approaching like a relay.

Little snake, soft and soft, oh; little shota dodges trouble easily, oh.

I refuse!