After weeks on the road, the capital's skyline shimmered like an old dream. The carriage rolled past the gate, and soon the city air was thick with spice and the chatter of merchants.

  "Feels nice to be back," I murmured.

  Seraphine gave a half-snort, half-sigh. "Until they remember I owe them the better part of a month's reports."

  Her voice was thinner than usual, stretched at the edges.

  "Right. The Tower." I smiled faintly, remembering how much she'd compined st time.

  The pale glow of its spires flickered faintly above the city walls. Her retive freedom came at a price—weekly check-ins at the Tower, suspended only when she was deployed.

  "Need company?" I offered.

  She blinked, surprised. "You'd go there voluntarily?"

  "I'll have to, sooner or ter." I lit a small fme at my fingertip. "They'll want me registered now that I've learned magic."

  Seraphine scoffed. "That? Please. I'd die of shame before showing my face there."

  The Tower's lobby was a cathedral of gss. Mana hung in the air like translucent fish, swimming through the vaulted light. Apprentices in pale robes darted between counters, carrying stacks of forms that pulsed faintly with enchantments. A single floating orb drifted above the reception desk, murmuring the names of those whose appointments were due.

  Seraphine tugged at her colr. "I'll drop my report upstairs. Meet you back at the lobby?"

  Her movement was nervous, almost fidgeting—unlike her usual composure.

  I nodded. "Goddess be with you. Last one back buys the other lunch?"

  "You're on," she said, vanishing into the lift.

  A clerk guided me to a spacious room on the eastern wing.

  At the heart of it stood the mana-measuring apparatus—a ring of silver coils surrounding a shallow basin of liquid crystal. The air around it hummed faintly, as though aware of every breath.

  "Pce your hand over the surface and focus," she said, bored. "The color and shape will be recorded automatically."

  I did as told. The crystal rippled once—then dimmed to a tired amber hue, barely wider than a coin.

  The smear dissolved almost before I even registered it. And that was it—no hidden spark, no twist of fate, nothing special waiting beneath my skin.

  The clerk raised an eyebrow, then cleared her throat politely.

  "...Ah. I see. If you're interested, there are csses you can take."

  I smiled wryly. "Thank you for the offer, Miss Penwick."

  It had come as a complete surprise that this body was capable of magic, so I was nursing a small hope that I had some hidden potential, just waiting to be unlocked. But of course, that only ever happened in storybooks.

  She wrote something on a parchment and stamped it with a faint thud of finality.

  I stared at the ripples in the basin, hoping for more—they cast only a smattering of weak light before fading away.

  I sighed, my shoulders slumping against the bench.

  "Disappointing result?"

  Seraphine's voice made me jump. She stood behind me, arms crossed, a stack of papers tucked beneath one elbow. Her hair was slightly disheveled, a quill stuck in it like a forgotten ornament.

  "Expected, more like." I shrugged. "Maybe I'm a te bloomer."

  She gnced at the amber smear on my recording, then at me. She seemed split on whether she should tease or comfort me.

  "Amber's not bad. It means stable mana flow. You're less likely to explode by accident. That's better than most apprentices."

  "Well, that's reassuring."

  We walked out together through the echoing lobby. Outside, the air hit like freedom—the bustle of vendors, the heat of roasted chestnuts, the hum of a city alive with noise.

  "Lunch?" she asked, as if sensing my mood.

  "Mm. Your treat, remember?"

  She rolled her eyes. "Fine. But only if we go somewhere quiet. I've had enough bureaucracy for a lifetime."

  We settled into a café beneath an ivy-covered awning. The aroma of brewed tea filled the air—bitter, metallic, grounding. I watched the Tower's reflection shimmer in my cup, its white spires warping in the liquid surface.

  Seraphine blew on her tea and took a careful sip. The faintest crease formed between her brows. "Still too hot."

  "Tragic," I murmured. "For all your power, you can't cool a drink."

  "I could," she said dryly, "but I might end up freezing the cup to the table. Then where would we be?"

  I smiled. "If you teach me your ice magic next, I could probably manage an ice cube or two."

  For a while, neither of us spoke. The crowd thinned, and the city's noise softened into a pleasant hum—just the clink of porcein and the faint chatter of passersby.

  It struck me how ordinary it all felt. No guilds, no duels, no intrigue. Just a quiet lunch with a friend. The kind of peace that never sted long in this world.

  I stirred my cup absently. "Hey," I said after a moment, "what are your pns for Courtship Moon?"

  She looked up, a second slower than usual. "Courtship Moon?"

  "You know—it's in a few days. The week where girls give gifts and confessions?"

  Her expression soured immediately. "Ah. That again."

  I grinned. "Don't tell me you're not into romance."

  "I don't hate it," she said, setting her cup down a touch too sharply. "I hate being cornered by overeager apprentices with bad handwriting and worse timing. Last year, I got three letters in one morning. Two were copied straight from the same sappy py."

  I ughed. "Those girls are trying their best, you know?"

  "It's annoying." She sighed and leaned back. "I had to hole up in my room the rest of the day."

  I sipped my tea to hide my smile.

  In the game, this was one of the scripted seasonal events—Courtship Moon: Affection Point Bonus. Each heroine had her own short scene with the Hero, tailored to their personality and retionship progress. It was sweet, light-hearted, a welcome break between major quests. I remembered resetting for days just to unlock every CG.

  And now here I was, living through it again. Only this time, there was no cheerful music cue. Just the faint hum of the street and the ctter of dishes.

  "Don't tell me you're participating," Seraphine said.

  "Maybe. I thought I'd get something small for everyone. Evelyn would appreciate some fine vintage, right?"

  "She would," Seraphine said, narrowing her eyes. "And Rocher?"

  I hesitated. "...He'll probably be swamped in gifts already. Which, of course, makes it harder."

  Seraphine's lips curved faintly. "But you're going to get him something anyway."

  "There is something small I'm working on," I said, twirling my spoon. "I can give that to him if I ever work up the courage."

  She took a small sip. "Sounds like trouble."

  "Well, if there's ever a day to make trouble…"

  "Then it might as well be under the Courtship Moon," she finished, smiling despite herself.

  It was the one week girls could act out without getting scolded for immodesty. So people got really silly with it, staging eborate confessions.

  I wasn't pnning anything that crazy, though. Lumiere and I spent the next few days crafting our "care" packages.

  Lumiere had taken over the sitting room, sunlight spilling across her worktable like honey. She wove each basket with deliberate care—ribbons of pale blue winding through wicker, her fingers moving in a rhythm both methodical and graceful.

  Across from her, I was elbow-deep in potion ingredients. Rows of little vials lined the counter, each beled in neat handwriting: soothing balm, skin revitalizer, facial toner, sleep draught.

  "You're enjoying this way too much," I said as she tied another bow.

  "It's fun," she replied simply. "Making something with your hands… giving it to someone you care about."

  I smiled faintly and poured a careful measure of rosewater into a fsk, adding a few drops of aether. The liquid shimmered faintly, turning the color of sunrise.

  By noon, the table was a battlefield of ribbon scraps, bottle stoppers, and half-tied tags. Lumiere's baskets gleamed like works of art—mine looked more like the contents of a pantry, disguised as gifts.

  "Everyone gets the same set?" she asked, aligning the baskets in a neat row.

  "Roughly," I said. "A few adjustments here and there."

  "Adjustments?"

  "Rocher's getting an extra-strong sleeping draught. Seraphine needs mana restoratives."

  I hoped she would like the new formu; I did my best to make it go down easier.

  Lumiere's eyes flicked to the small bottle I'd just tucked away. "And that one?"

  "Just a special blend," I said lightly, corking it and carefully applying a bel.

  She didn't press.

  The next morning, we found Evelyn and Rocher in the dining hall, poking through the baskets like children caught rifling through presents. Half the ptters at their table had already been picked cleaned, scraped down to crumbs as if they hadn't eaten in days.

  Evelyn had one basket perched on her knee, untying ribbons with delicate fingers; Rocher was turning bottles over, brow furrowed in concentration.

  "Cire made these?" Evelyn said. "Didn't know she had a domestic streak."

  "I helped," Lumiere chimed in proudly from behind me. "She brewed the potions, and I did the wrapping."

  "Teamwork," I quipped, piling breakfast onto my own tray. I was starving today.

  "They look great," Rocher said. "Smell nice, too."

  I was gd he still seemed to enjoy it. I had passed by his room earlier and it was wall-to-wall already with gifts he'd courteously accepted, each one a confession he'd gently rejected.

  Suddenly his back stiffened. "Wait… why do you all have five bottles?"

  His eyes darted between his basket and Evelyn's.

  Evelyn blinked, then started counting. "One, two, three, four, five. Huh. You only got four?"

  "Apparently," he said, holding them up for comparison. "Soothing balm, revitalizer, facial toner, sleep draught. What's the pink one?"

  "That's the rosewater blend," Lumiere said. "It's for cramping."

  Rocher nodded. "Sounds useful. Did you forget mine, Cire?"

  "No," I said, pouring myself tea.

  He arched a brow. "Then why am I missing that one?"

  "Because." I set my cup down carefully. "You don't have a uterus."

  There was a moment of silence—long enough for the words to properly register. Then Evelyn nearly spat out her drink ughing. Lumiere covered her mouth and turned away, shoulders shaking.

  Rocher just stared, utterly lost for a moment before his ears turned pink. "You could have just led with that."

  I stuck my tongue out at him. Despite having received so much attention already, he had the audacity to look a little hurt.

  Well, I'd already pnned to make it up to him ter. Somehow, telling him now felt like spoiling the moment.

  "By the way," I said, standing to return my tray. "Seraphine hasn't come down yet?"

  "She was up te st night," Lumiere said gently. "She's probably still asleep."

  I nodded. "Then I'll bring her basket up to her room."

  I knocked once or twice, but there was no answer. She must be exhausted. Unlike Rocher, she tended to sleep like a log.

  "Sweet dreams," I murmured, setting the basket where she'd see it when she woke.

  As I turned to leave, a strange unease tugged at me—an instinct I couldn't name. The corridor felt oddly still, as if the air itself were holding its breath.