Irritatingly, it wandered back to him.
"Nero..." she whispered, the na barely audible as the word dissolved into the night air. She scowled softly at herself. It was ridiculous, how often his image surfaced when she was alone like this. His voice. His sharp, unreadable eyes. His calmness that sohow chipped at her walls. She clenched her fists beneath the water.
Yet... she didn’t hate it.
With a frustrated sigh, she kicked off the wall and glided across the pool again, this ti faster. Stroke after stroke, she pushed her body harder, each motion sharp and forceful. Splashes echoed under the villa’s arches, her pale figure darting through the water like a ghostly arrow. Training—movent—was the only way she knew to drown out emotions.
After several relentless laps, she stopped and steadied her breathing. Water stread down her skin in shining rivulets. She raised a hand, focusing her prana. Frost danced at her fingertips, crackling with a faint crystalline glow. Slowly, she guided it outward, weaving icy patterns across the pool’s surface. The water at the edges solidified into thin plates of glassy ice, spreading outward in elegant designs.
It was an exercise in control—maintaining balance between water and frost, shaping beauty without overfreezing the pool. Every delicate movent reflected her nature: cold, ticulous, unyielding. She traced circles, spirals, fragile patterns that sparkled under the moonlight before she let them lt and vanish. Again and again, she repeated the process, refining her technique.
The pool beca her training ground, her sanctuary.
Ti slipped away unnoticed. She alternated between laps of raw speed, her muscles burning with exertion, and slow, controlled ice manipulation, testing the limits of her Law. Her breathing grew heavy, but her expression never broke. To anyone watching, she would look like a goddess of frost playing with water, tireless and untouchable.
Finally, she pulled herself out of the pool, droplets clinging to her like pearls in the moonlight. She sat on the edge, legs dangling in the water, her back straight, hair plastered wet against her shoulders. She reached for a towel set neatly nearby, drying her face, but her gaze remained fixed on the shimring surface.
Her thoughts circled back to Nero once more, unbidden. She recalled his smirk back in the pocket world, his words, even the way he looked at her like she was soone worth paying attention to—not just the cold heir of an ice-bound legacy. That warmth stirred again, the restlessness returning. She clicked her tongue softly.
"I must be losing my mind..." she murmured.
And yet, her lips curved faintly.
The Ice Queen sat there in silence, hair glistening under moonlight, wrapped in her quiet thoughts. Behind her, faint bursts of laughter from Elreth and Azalea still echoed from inside the villa, but Khione ignored them entirely. Tonight belonged to her and her restless heart.
After a long mont, she finally stood, wrapping herself in a towel. Her figure was slender, elegant, her ice blue eyes reflecting the starlight with quiet determination. She cast one last glance at the pool, its surface calm once more, the faint traces of her frost already gone.
"Tomorrow," she whispered, her voice calm yet touched by sothing softer, almost hopeful.
With that, Khione turned away from the moonlit pool, droplets still trailing down her pale hair and shoulders as she walked back toward her room. The Ice Queen retreated into the stillness of the night—yet her heart, unbeknownst even to herself, was not as frozen as she believed. Slowly, imperceptibly, sothing was thawing inside her. The image of a certain boy was taking root, etched deeper and deeper with every passing mont.
It was precisely because of this that she could not allow that annoying redhead to have her way. He belongs to .
She blinked, startled at her own thought. Huh? Why am I thinking like this? Perhaps I’m just... too tired. Shaking her head as though to scatter those strange feelings, she slipped into her room, her expression returning to its usual composed mask.
anwhile, elsewhere in the villa, the atmosphere was anything but calm. Elreth and Azalea were completely absorbed in their ga, locked in a virtual duel. The dwarves’ latest invention, refined with human innovation, allowed players to project avatars that were exact scans of their own figures—down to their weapons, combat style, and even the Laws they wielded.
Suddenly, the lights dimd slightly, reflecting off the transparent glass walls and the soft glow of the waterfalls outside. Yet none of that beauty reached Elreth or Azalea’s eyes—both were utterly locked onto the large holographic screen hovering above the console.
The virtual battlefield shimred into existence: a vast coliseum of stone and steel, its sky painted in stormy grays, lightning flickering along the horizon. The dwarves had designed it to be as imrsive as possible, every detail alive with magic-infused realism. The avatars of the two princesses materialized in the arena, both radiating overwhelming presence.
Elreth’s avatar stood first, tall and proud, red hair blazing like fire under the storm sky. She wielded a long crimson spear wrapped in flas, its heat distorting the very air around it. Her Law of Fire pulsated vividly, each heartbeat releasing sparks that scattered along the arena floor.
Opposite her, Azalea’s avatar appeared—a vision of elven grace. Long blonde hair cascaded like golden silk, erald eyes sharp and calculating. She raised her longbow, green winds gathering at her fingertips, the Law of Wind sharpening every motion. Her presence was calr, colder—a silent storm preparing to be unleashed.
The countdown echoed.
3... 2... 1... Fight!
Elreth charged first, her spear igniting into a pillar of fla as she thrust forward with explosive speed. The ground cracked beneath her montum, flas spiraling outward. Azalea’s bow glead, and in the blink of an eye, three arrows of condensed wind whistled through the air, each sharp enough to split steel.
The first arrow cut through the fla spiral, dissipating it with sheer force of air. The second arrow was deflected by Elreth’s sweeping spear. The third grazed her shoulder, leaving behind a glowing mark across the avatar’s skin.
This round was going to be fun.
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