The twilight shone through the carved glass windows of the strategy room, casting a coppery sheen on the map spread out on the round table. Behind a pile of documents, Akira stood stiffly, his fingers moving quickly over a supply chart, as if he could move a battalion with the stroke of a pen. His black hair was neatly tied back, his eyes fixed on the lines of the borders he had drawn himself—there was no room for breath, let alone a smile.
On the other side of the room, Selene leaned against a bookshelf, arms crossed to ward off the sudden chill. She had been waiting since the sun had set, carrying a piece of defensive magic treatise she wanted to discuss with them. But every time she opened her mouth, Akira would only give a curt nod—or more often, not respond at all.
"The mana-core ratio has decreased by ten percent," Selene said, trying to get their attention. "If we force the mages to attack in unison, they will be exhausted before they reach the enemy gate."
Akira answered without turning around, his voice flat, "We'll add twenty reserve alchemists. As long as the ether supply is sufficient, the level of exhaustion is negligible." The pen danced again, as if Selene's words were just another statistic.
The silence was heavy. Selene crumpled the scroll of paper in her hand. Her usually bluish cheeks flushed with annoyance, but she held herself back. This is war, Selene. Focus on Akira for everyone's sake, she scolded herself. But her inner voice replied, Then who's watching you?
In the grand library lit only by blue crystals, Ren sorted through old scrolls of reports. He knew Akira's schedule—and knew Selene would be out soon, disappointed even if she wouldn't admit it. When light footsteps sounded from the strategy corridor, he stood, feigning surprise to see Selene enter the deserted hall.
"Lady Selene? It's already dark. I thought you were still busy with Akira."
Selene held her breath, squaring her shoulders. "Done," she replied simply. But the fragility in her tone was hard to hide.
Ren leaned forward, taking the scroll in her hand. "Let me keep this. It looks heavy."
Selene let go without resistance. Their fingers brushed—a brief contact, but enough to send a soft pulse racing across her skin. Ren turned to the catalog table, spread out the scrolls, and flicked on an additional crystal lamp. Soft purple light kissed the corners of Selene's tired face.
"You look pale," Ren whispered, "Have you rested today?"
"I'm fine," Selene said quickly, then looked down when her voice sounded more bitter than firm. "Akira needs my help, that's all."
"And who needs you now?" Ren asked, his voice soft but penetrating. "When you've been standing in a cold room for hours, has anyone offered you a robe or hot tea?"
Selene paused. The simple words fell like the first rain after a dry spell. Her chest tightened, her silver eyes twinkling. "No need… I'm used to it."
Ren took a deep breath, then walked to the beverage rack at the side of the hall. He prepared a small teapot of purple mint—a simple, mentally calming concoction. Without another word, he poured two cups, fragrant steam dancing in the air.
"Back then," Ren broke the silence as he handed her the cup, "my mother used to say, 'When the world is silent, listen to your heartbeat, and you know you're still alive.' But sometimes that heartbeat is so soft, it takes someone else to remind you."
Selene took the cup. Her fingers felt cold against the warm ceramic, and something in her chest cracked a little—a crack that wasn't fatal, but made room for a new breath. "You always have folktales, huh?" she murmured, half-smiling.
Ren smiled back. "Stories to keep those who feel alone company." He lifted his own cup, taking a slow sip. "You want to talk about anything—or just stay silent. I'm here."
Selene stared at the purple-glowing surface of the tea, as if seeing her reflection. She said nothing for a long time, until her shoulders finally relaxed slowly. "Akira… is amazing. He sees ten steps ahead. But sometimes, I lag behind. It feels like I'm just… a tool."
Ren lowered his head, hiding the small glimmer of triumph in his eyes. "What I see," he said softly, "is that you are a tower of light. Without you, his 'ten steps' are just numbers on a piece of paper."
The sentence crept softly into Selene's mind, lighting a small ember behind the coldness. He turned, their eyes met. Ren didn't shy away; he looked through it as if it were clear glass—no demands, just acceptance. And in that reflection, Selene sees herself not as a weapon, but as a woman who has the right to feel tired, angry, and—more dangerously—longing.
The cup hit the table, Selene's fingers trembled. "Why… do you care?"
Ren considered for a moment, choosing the right words. "Because no one deserves to stand alone on the battlefield. Not even the great wizard."
Selene laughed softly—a fragile but relieved sound. "You're good at breaking down walls."
Ren grinned a little. "I just knocked. You opened it." He took a step closer, enough so that the warm mint scent enveloped them both. "If your walls come down—and the night winds are cold—I can be your coat. Nothing more, nothing less, until you're ready to build again."
That statement—ambiguous, safe, but full of promise—made Selene's heart pound. she nodded once, looking down to suppress a faint smile. "Then… stay here… just for a little while."
A few hours later, the candles were almost gone. Selene was asleep, leaning against the reading couch, a scroll of defense treatises on her lap, her chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm. Ren sat on the carpet beside her, re-copying his magic chart to make it neater—a sign of the 'protection' working silently.
He glanced at Selene's calm face, adjusting the blanket on her shoulders. A strand of silver hair fell to her cheek; Ren brushed it away gently, fingertips stopping at her temple—a brief touch enough to channel a gentle flow of mana, giving her peaceful dreams.
Outside the hall, footsteps echoed. Ren immediately withdrew his hand, stood up, and turned—Akira appeared in the doorway, his black eyes narrowed at the sight before him: Selene was asleep, Ren standing too close.
"You…" Akira held back his voice, "what are you doing here?"
Ren bowed respectfully, hiding a sly calmness behind politeness. "Lady Selene is overwhelmed after finishing the mana schematics. I think she should rest before tomorrow."
Akira's eyes moved to Selene, then to the chart paper Ren had copied. There was a faint admiration—but also a slight flicker of suspicion. "You… helped copy the strategic data?"
"Just rearranging the lines," Ren said simply. "So that Lady Selene wouldn't wake up with sore arms."
Akira didn't respond right away. He walked over to the couch, examining Selene; his tone of concern was flat, professional. "She always pushes herself." Then he turned to Ren. "Thank you."
But the thanks felt heavy, as if his tongue was reluctant to give it to a servant. Ren bowed his head deeper. "My duty, sir."
Akira nodded stiffly and told Ren to return to the dormitory because it was getting late. Ren obeyed, but before he disappeared down the corridor, he glanced back—catching the image of Akira draping his cloak over Selene's shoulders. The gesture was full of chivalrous charisma, but awkward, like an obligatory duty, not genuine concern.
Ren smiled thinly at the dark corridor. His steps were soft, their echoes dancing on the stone walls.
Physical protection… maybe still Akira. But protection of the heart? she thought. That was the seed I had 'accidentally' planted tonight.
In the dark library, Selene woke up a few hours later. The room was empty, but the blanket around her shoulders was warm—the smell of Akira's robe mixed with Ren's mint concoction. She pressed her chest, confused: Who really cared?
And on the other side of the fortress, Akira checked the guard's report: Ren's name was listed as wandering around at night again. His brow furrowed; for the first time, he put the sheet in his pocket—rather than throwing it away.
Tomorrow, he would call Ren personally.