They stood in that silence—an unlikely stillness between two people who had always filled space with sharp edges and challenge.
The ballroom hummed softly around them, distant, muffled. The voices of nobles faded into meaningless static. Here, in this narrow corner, time seemed to stretch.
Valeria watched him—watched not the man who had turned a ballroom inside out, but the one who had once trained beside her under the burning light of Vendor's standards.
And maybe she was about to say something—something real, something honest—
But of course…
Lucavion ruined it.
"Careful, Pink Knight," he drawled, lips curling just slightly. "You keep staring like that and people might think you've finally decided to abandon the sword and fall madly in love with a dangerous man."
Her expression didn't flinch. But her eyes narrowed—a sharp, unamused sliver.
"Don't flatter yourself," Valeria said coolly, not missing a beat.
Lucavion's smirk deepened, as if he'd been waiting for the jab.
