The lakeside rested in a quiet stillness, far removed from the noise and movent of the academy grounds.
Soft ripples spread across the surface of the water, reflecting the pale blue sky above, while a gentle breeze carried the faint scent of damp earth and leaves through the air. The tall trees surrounding the lake swayed lightly, their shadows stretching across the grass in long, wavering patterns, creating a place that felt untouched by the rush of the outside world.
At the edge of the lake, seated on a smooth stone near the water, was a familiar purple-haired woman.
Her long hair fell loosely over her shoulders, strands occasionally lifted by the breeze as she sat with her legs dipped into the cool water, the surface breaking gently around her ankles. Her gaze was distant, unfocused, as though her thoughts were far away from the quiet beauty surrounding her.
She didn’t move, nor did she react.
Simply sat there, lost in whatever weighed on her mind.
From behind her, Luca approached.
His steps were quiet, almost instinctive, as though he didn’t want to disturb the fragile calm of the place. When he reached her, he didn’t speak imdiately. Instead, he lowered himself and sat beside her, leaving just enough distance so as not to intrude, yet close enough to share the silence.
The mont his presence settled beside her—
She noticed.
Her head turned quickly toward him, eyes widening just a fraction in surprise.
For a brief second, their gazes t.
Then—
She turned away just as quickly.
Luca blinked.
Then tilted his head slightly.
"Hm?" he said, his tone light, almost teasing. "Aren’t you happy to see ?"
No response ca.
The woman remained silent, her gaze fixed firmly on the opposite side of the lake as though he didn’t exist at all.
Luca raised a brow.
Then, without hesitation, he stood up.
Circling around, he moved to the other side and sat again—this ti directly within her line of sight.
The mont he settled—
She turned her head the other way.
Luca stared at her for a second.
Then leaned slightly forward.
"Are you really not going to look at ?"
A pause followed.
Then finally—
She spoke.
"Hmph..."
Her voice carried a soft edge of annoyance.
"Who are you? I don’t know you."
Another pause.
"Go away."
Luca froze for a brief mont, clearly caught off guard.
Then—
Realization slowly dawned on him.
Ah...
So that’s what this is about.
A faint, knowing smile tugged at his lips as he leaned back slightly, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I’m sorry..."
That made her react.
She turned her head again, this ti looking at him properly, her lips slightly puffed in a clear pout as her eyes carried a mix of irritation and sothing far softer beneath it.
Luca saw it—
And had to hold back a laugh.
Barely.
"You—!" she said, her voice rising slightly as she noticed his expression. "You’re already a whole week late..."
Her brows furrowed as she looked at him.
"And now you’re even laughing at ...!"
She turned away again sharply.
"Hmph. I’m not talking to you."
This ti, Luca couldn’t help it.
A soft chuckle escaped him.
But before she could move further away, he reached out and gently took her hand.
"I’m sorry, I’m sorry," he said quickly, his tone softer now, the amusent fading into sothing more genuine. "I won’t laugh, okay?"
She flinched slightly at the sudden contact, her body stiffening for a brief mont.
Then—
Slowly—
She looked at him again.
The mont Luca’s fingers wrapped gently around her hand, the woman’s composure shattered.
Her eyes widened, a faint flush rising instantly to her cheeks as she stiffened, clearly caught off guard by the sudden contact. For a heartbeat, she simply stared at him—
Then, almost as if the realization struck all at once, she quickly pulled her hand back, turning her face slightly away in embarrassnt.
"F-first tell ..." she stamred, her voice losing its earlier edge and becoming uneven, "...why are you so late?"
Her fingers curled lightly into her palm as she tried to steady herself.
"I was waiting for you..."
The softness in her voice lingered longer than she intended.
Luca, who had been watching her reaction, instinctively looked away the mont their eyes could have t again, his expression shifting into sothing far more conflicted.
He hesitated.
"...Ahh... well..."
His hand rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck.
"I was injured—"
He didn’t even get to finish.
The woman imdiately leaned toward him, all traces of embarrassnt vanishing in an instant, replaced by pure, unfiltered concern.
Her eyes widened as she looked him over quickly, her gaze scanning him from head to toe as if trying to find the injury he had just ntioned.
"You—!" she started, her voice rising with urgency. "And you’re telling this only now?!"
Her hands hovered uncertainly near him, as though she wanted to check for wounds but didn’t know where to begin.
"How did you get injured?" she asked rapidly. "Where were you hurt? Are you okay?"
The questions ca one after another without pause, her earlier pout completely forgotten as worry took over.
Luca blinked.
Then looked at her.
And for a brief mont—
Guilt hit him harder than expected.
His gaze softened as his thoughts turned inward.
...You jerk.
The words echoed faintly in his mind.
I couldn’t even tell her the truth...
I just said I was injured because I couldn’t admit I forgot the way.
His lips pressed together slightly.
...Idiot.
He exhaled quietly, then reached out again—this ti more gently—placing his hand lightly over hers to stop her restless movent.
"I’m fine now," he said, his voice calm, steady, deliberately reassuring.
"You don’t need to worry."
She didn’t look convinced.
Her brows remained furrowed as her eyes searched his face, as though trying to find any hint that he might be hiding sothing.
"I’m really fine," he repeated, this ti with a faint, reassuring smile.
It took ti.
More than he expected.
She questioned him again.
Looked at him again.
Hesitated again.
Until slowly—
Reluctantly—
Her shoulders began to relax.
The tension in her expression eased, though the concern didn’t completely leave her eyes.
Only after a long mont did she finally let out a small breath, as if convincing herself to believe him.
"...You better be," she muttered softly, her voice quieter now, though still carrying a trace of lingering worry.
For a brief mont, the quiet between them settled again, softer this ti, no longer weighed down by awkwardness or worry.
Then—
The woman suddenly straightened, the earlier embarrassnt and concern lting away as sothing else replaced it.
Curiosity.
Bright. Eager.
Her eyes lit up as she leaned slightly closer, her tone shifting completely.
"Now tell ," she said, almost impatiently, "what did you do in the last two months?"
Her gaze locked onto him, leaving no room for escape.
"Tell everything."
A small pause.
"Don’t miss a single detail."
Luca blinked once.
Then a faint smile spread across his face as he looked at her, seeing the familiar spark return to her expression.
"Everything, huh..."
He leaned back slightly, resting his weight on his hands as he turned his gaze toward the lake for a mont, gathering his thoughts.
Then he began.
He spoke first of the Elven Forest.
Of how what once seed like a simple journey had unfolded into sothing far deeper, far darker than expected. He described the hidden truths buried beneath centuries of silence—the past of the dark elves, long forgotten and deliberately concealed, finally brought into the light.
He spoke of betrayal.
Of suffering.
Of truths that had never been ant to surface.
As he continued, his tone grew quieter.
Then ca the part that shifted everything.
The appearance of the Fifth Demon General.
The way the very atmosphere of the forest had changed the mont that being stepped onto the battlefield. The suffocating pressure. The overwhelming difference in power.
The fight that followed.
Not glorious.
Not heroic.
But desperate.
He did not exaggerate.
Did not dramatize.
He simply told it as it was.
And then—
The sacrifice of the Elven Queen.
At that, the woman’s expression changed.
Her earlier curiosity faded, replaced by sothing far more serious as her eyes sharpened, her gaze fixed on him with quiet intensity. The weight of what he was describing settled between them, unspoken yet deeply understood.
She didn’t interrupt.
Didn’t question.
She simply listened.
Luca moved on.
To the Dwarven Lands.
To the Forgeheart Crucible.
He spoke of the trials, of the challenges that tested not only strength but will, of the ancient forge and the legacy it carried. He did not go into unnecessary detail, especially not the harsher aspects, but even without that, the difficulty of what he had faced was clear.
The woman’s expression shifted again.
Less tense.
More thoughtful.
As though piecing together the journey in her mind.
Then ca the Holy Kingdom.
Luca’s voice slowed slightly as he recounted the events there.
The corruption hidden beneath faith.
The bishop.
The truth behind the Saintess.
The chains.
The injustice.
The breaking—and rebuilding—of belief.
He spoke of the confrontation, of the unraveling of lies, of the mont everything was brought into the open.
As he spoke, the woman’s reactions changed subtly with each part of the story.
At tis, her brows furrowed.
At tis, her lips pressed into a thin line.
At tis, her gaze softened.
And at tis—
There was anger.
Quiet.
Controlled.
But unmistakable.
Through it all, she never interrupted him.
She let him speak.
Let him finish.
And then—
Luca stopped.
The story ended.
Silence returned.
The two of them sat there, side by side, their gazes drifting naturally toward the lake as the ripples moved endlessly across its surface.
The wind brushed past them softly.
Neither of them spoke for a mont.
There was no need.
Everything that had been said lingered in the air between them.
Then—
She moved.
Her hand lifted slowly, reaching toward him.
Before he could react, her fingers gently cupped his cheeks, turning his face slightly toward her.
Her touch was soft.
But firm enough to hold his attention.
Her eyes t his.
Steady.
Knowing.
"You didn’t tell everything, did you?"
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