Luca noticed it then.
The somber cast that had fallen over Leona’s expression. The way her shoulders had dropped slightly, her fingers still fidgeting with the arrow, her gaze fixed sowhere far away.
He had pushed too hard and it was ti to pull back.
He cleared his throat and glanced down at the arrow still clutched in her hands, then at the gun resting on the table between them.
"Well." He said, his tone deliberately light. "Luckily for you, Leona, I don’t actually need your arrow. So, you can keep your family heirloom to yourself."
Saying this, he expected relief from Leona. A small smile, perhaps. Maybe even a quiet exhale of tension released.
But what he got instead was an imdiate frown.
"Excuse ?"
"I said I don’t need—"
"I heard what you said."
She pulled the arrow closer to her chest, her expression shifting into sothing thoroughly offended.
"And what exactly is that supposed to an? Do you think it isn’t valuable? Is that what you’re saying?"
"Leona—"
"Because I’ll have you know..." She pressed on, voice rising with indignation. "...that if I were to walk over there right now and offer this arrow to any villager in this settlent, they would fall to their knees."
"They would thank . They would consider themselves blessed beyond asure."
She held the arrow up as if presenting evidence in a court of law as she said,
"You are looking down on it unnecessarily."
Luca blinked, caught off guard by the sudden defensiveness.
"No, no—that’s not what I ant at all!"
He held up his hands placatingly.
"What I’m saying is, you don’t need to give your arrow because you never actually broke the gun in the first place."
Leona’s indignation faltered, replaced by confusion.
"What?"
Without another word, Luca took the two pieces from her—the rifle and the detached scope—and carried them to the table.
Under her watchful gaze, he simply slid the scope back into its mounting. A soft click, and it was firmly attached once more.
"See?" He stepped back, gesturing at the fully assembled weapon. "Good as new. No harm done. No compensation needed."
Leona’s mouth opened, then closed. She stared at the rifle, then at Luca, then back at the rifle.
"But...how?" She moved closer, examining the spot where scope t gun. "Did you make this? Is that why you could fix it so easily?"
Luca chuckled. "Not at all. Watch this."
He picked up the rifle again, and to Leona’s horror, he began to disassemble it right in front of her eyes.
The scope ca off.
The bipod detached.
The stock separated from the receiver.
Piece by piece, the magnificent weapon broke down into a collection of components.
For a terrifying mont, Leona thought he was destroying it.
But then she realized—these parts were ant to co apart.
They slid and clicked with precision, designed for exactly this purpose.
"Incredible."
She breathed, genuine awe in her voice.
"With a bow, the most you can do is remove the string. But this...every single piece cos apart. It makes the gun even more of a masterpiece than I realized."
She looked up at him, curiosity burning in her eyes once more.
"Why? Is it for maintenance? So you can clean each part properly?"
Luca nodded as he began reassembling the rifle.
"Maintenance is one reason, yes. But the main purpose is transport."
He held up the long barrel.
"Guns like this are long. Very long. To transport one in one piece, you need an equally long case—like the one it ca in."
He glanced back at its box before looking at her and continuing,
"And a long case like that? It’s obvious. It screams ’there’s sothing suspicious in here.’ Anyone who sees it knows sothing’s up."
Leona nodded slowly. "Not many things co in boxes that long."
"Exactly." Luca continued assembling, his movents practiced and sure. "But if you can break it down into smaller pieces, you can carry it in an ordinary bag."
"A backpack. A suitcase. No one suspects a thing."
He attached the stock, then the scope, working thodically.
"And this particular model?"
He picked up the now-complete rifle, holding it for her to see.
"It’s designed specifically for people who need to be...inconspicuous. Who need their tools to blend in, to go unnoticed, to pass through checkpoints and crowds without raising suspicion."
He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a whisper.
"Assassins, Leona. People who do the kind of dirty work that requires no one to know they’re coming."
Leona’s eyes trembled. She looked at the rifle with new understanding—and new trepidation.
She had been touching this weapon.
Holding it.
Admiring its craftsmanship.
But now, in her mind’s eye, she saw it in different hands.
Hands belonging to soone hidden in shadows, soone waiting patiently for a target to appear, soone who would squeeze that trigger and end a life from so far away the victim would never know what hit them.
The thought made her stomach twist. She swallowed hard, then asked the question that had ford in her mind.
"Luca...has this gun killed people? Does it have blood on it?"
She looked at the rifle with a mixture of fascination and dread.
"I’ve been touching it all over, admiring it like a work of art. But if it’s actually been used to take lives—if soone aid this at another person and ended everything for them..."
She shivered.
"I don’t know how to feel about that."
Luca looked at her for a mont, then waved his hand dismissively.
"You don’t need to worry about that. This particular gun has probably only ever been used for practice. Target shooting, maybe so training exercises."
He patted the stock before adding knowledgeably,
"And guns that have actually been used for assassinations? The ones that have racked up real kills?..."
"...You don’t find those on the open market."
Leona tilted her head questioningly.
"Think about it." Luca continued. "If you were an assassin, and you had a gun that was perfectly reliable, perfectly accurate, that had helped you complete mission after mission without fail—would you ever sell it? Would you ever get rid of it?"
Leona considered this before saying,
"No. I wouldn’t."
"Exactly. You’d keep it. Treasure it. It would beco your partner, in a way." He smiled. "The long-range guns that have truly seen combat, that have truly taken lives—they stay with the people who used them. Forever."
Leona nodded slowly, understanding dawning.
Then a thought occurred to her, and she pulled out her lucky arrow again.
"It’s just like my arrow. I would never sell this to anyone, no matter what. It’s too precious, too reliable, too..."
She trailed off as she noticed Luca’s expression.
He was looking at her with that strange, knowing gaze again.
"What?" She asked defensively.
And to this he chuckled and said,
"You say that, but didn’t you just try to give it to ? Like, five minutes ago?"
Leona froze.
Her face cycled through several expressions—confusion, realization, embarrassnt—before settling on a deep, mortified red.
"That was—I—well, you see—" She stamred, flustered. "I was desperate, okay? I didn’t know what else to do! It was an ergency!"
Hearing this, Luca couldn’t help want to tease her a bit so he leaned in closer.
So close that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body, could see the teasing glint in his eyes.
"So desperate that you’d give away your most precious possession?"
His voice dropped slightly.
"That makes wonder, Leona..."
She swallowed. "Wonder what?"
"If you were in a truly desperate situation—if your daughters lives were on the line, and the only way to save them was to offer sothing even more valuable than an arrow..."
His gaze flickered down, just for a mont, then back to her eyes.
"Would you do it?"
Leona stared at him blankly.
"Offer what? I don’t have anything more valuable than—"
She stopped.
His aning clicked into place.
Her face exploded with color—deep, burning crimson that spread from her cheeks to her ears to her neck.
Her entire body went rigid.
"L-Luca!"
She stumbled backward, nearly tripping over her own feet.
"How could you—there’s no way I would ever—if you’re having thoughts like that, don’t! Don’t even think about it! I have my arrow!"
She brandished it threateningly, though her shaking hand sowhat undermined the effect.
"I’ll poke you with it! I will! Don’t think I won’t!"
And seeing her reaction, Luca couldn’t help it.
He burst out laughing.
"I’m joking, Leona! I’m joking!"
He held up his hands in surrender, still chuckling.
"I just wanted to see your reaction. And you did not disappoint."
He gave her a thumbs up, grin wide and genuine.
"You’re actually kind of cute when you’re flustered, you know?"
But this only made her embarrassnt deepen even further to impossible depths.
"Don’t—don’t make fun of !"
She stepped forward and punched his arm to assert so dominance. Not hard, but firmly.
"Ow!"
And seeing that he was actually reacting like it hurt, she couldn’t help but want to do it again for so reason.
"Stop teasing !"
"Ow! Sorry, sorry!"
"You’re a bully!" She punched him again.
"I said sorry!"
"A big bully!" Another punch.
"I’m really sorry!"
"an bully!"
Luca rubbed his arm, still grinning as he said,
"Okay, okay, truce? Please?"
Leona stopped, arms crossed, face still pink but a small, unwilling smile tugging at her lips.
"Only because you apologized."
And at that mont she couldn’t help the satisfied smile that tugged at her lips.
Here she was, hitting around the great Hero—the man whose na alone could make the human continent tremble, the warrior who supposedly had rivers of blood flowing behind him—and he was actually cowering from her playful attacks.
Well cowering might be an exaggeration.
She knew he was simply humoring her, letting her push him around, accommodating her outburst.
But knowing that didn’t diminish the satisfaction.
If anything, it made it better.
He could have shut her down with a word.
He could have reminded her of her place, of the power dynamic between them just like Julius always did when she overstepped.
Instead, he dodged and weaved and yelped dramatically every ti her fist connected with his arm, playing the part of the victim with theatrical flair.
It was satisfying.
It was funny.
It was...nice.
For the first ti in years, Leona felt like she was just existing without the weight of her past crushing down on her.
No cold mask. No careful distance. Just...her.
But then—she noticed the silence.
It crept up on her slowly—the realization that the constant backdrop had completely stopped.
No more pops from the firing line.
No more giggles from the children’s range.
No more shouts of excitent or encouragent.
Nothing.
A bad feeling settled in her stomach.
Slowly, reluctantly, she turned around and she was shocked by the sight.
Every single elf in the clearing was staring at her.
The young girls with their BB guns frozen mid-shot.
The adults with pistols hanging forgotten at their sides.
The elders who had been watching from above.
Even the range safety officers had abandoned their posts.
All of them were looking directly at Leona.
Their faces wore identical expressions of absolute disbelief.
Mouths hung open. Eyes were wide, so blinking rapidly as if trying to clear an illusion.
Her own daughters were no exception.
Lulu was vigorously rubbing her eyes with both fists, then staring again, then rubbing them once more, like she couldn’t trust what she was seeing.
Luna stood frozen, her pistol dangling from one hand, her face a mask of pure shock.
Even Nyx, who never lost her composure, who always had a knowing smile or a teasing remark, had her lips parted in genuine surprise, her usual confident deanor completely absent.
And in that mont, Leona understood.
She had actually been playing around with Luca.
Chasing him. Hitting him. Laughing. Blushing. Showing more emotion in the past few minutes than she had shown in years.
To everyone watching, it must have looked like seeing a completely different person.
Realising this, her face, already flushed from exertion, burned even hotter. She turned away sharply, unable to et their eyes.
But that didn’t stop the whispers from starting.
"Oh my gods...is that really Leona? Our matriarch Leona?"
"I never thought I’d see her like this. I didn’t even know she could make those expressions."
"I thought she forgot how to smile. But she’s smiling. She’s actually smiling. And blushing!"
An older elf, one who had been around for centuries, spoke up with a nostalgic tone.
"You younger ones wouldn’t know this, but...this is how Leona used to be. A long, long ti ago. Before everything happened."
"Really? She was like this?"
"Oh yes. She was warm. Open. Full of life. But that version of her disappeared years ago."
The elder shook her head slowly before smiling,
"...I never thought I’d see it again."
"I think I’m dreaming." Another whispered. "The Leona from before...she’s back?"
Leona herself didn’t know what to do.
She had broken the rules. The rules that kept everyone safe.
She was supposed to control her emotions, always.
She was supposed to present a cold, unreadable mask to the world.
That was how she protected everyone.
That was how she maintained order.
But with Luca...
She glanced at him.
He was watching the scene with an amused expression, seemingly unbothered by the attention.
With him, she hadn’t been able to maintain that mask.
The sense of safety he radiated, the feeling that no matter what happened, he would handle it—that had stripped away her defenses once again without her even realizing it.
Her true self had simply...erged.
But she wasn’t happy at the mont—instead panic clawed at her chest.
After all this simple mistake of hers could turn into a disaster.
This was because when she showed emotion, when she let herself be vulnerable, when she dropped the facade—things happened.
Bad things. She had learned that lesson multiple tis, each lesson more painful than the last.
She had stopped smiling because every ti she smiled, the world found a way to wipe it off her face.
She had stopped laughing because every ti she laughed, sothing made her cry soon after.
She had stopped showing affection because every ti she reached out with love, the ones she loved suffered horrible pain.
And now, in one careless mont, she had broken every rule she had set for herself.
She had laughed. Blushed. Smiled. Showed her true self to the entire village.
What would happen now?
Would she punished for this mont of weakness?
Would it be Luna? Lulu? Soone else she cared about?
Her breath ca faster. Her hands trembled slightly.
But then—nothing happened.
Just...silence.
Leona blinked.
She waited another mont. Another.
Still nothing.
And this shocked her as normally, the repercussions were supposed occur.
Soone was supposed to be affected and screaming.
But nothing happened this ti.
Thinking that it was strange, she turned back to Luca, studying him with new eyes.
This man—this outsider from another world had sohow created a space where her emotions didn’t trigger consequences.
Where she could laugh and play and be herself without the universe extracting its cruel paynt.
Was it because he was from another world?
Did his presence sohow shield her from whatever force had been punishing her?
Or was it sothing else—sothing about him personally that made the rules different when he was near?
She didn’t have answers.
But as she stood there, surrounded by whispering villagers but untouched by catastrophe, she felt sothing she hadn’t felt in years:
Hope.
Maybe, just maybe, with Luca around, she could afford to be herself again.
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