Luna froze. Her breath came in quick bursts. The darkness beneath the blindfold felt heavier now — like a mirror reflecting her own doubt.
After a long silence, Orpheus withdrew his blade. "Pick it up."
She retrieved her sword, breathing hard.
"You could've ended that easily."
"I could've. But that's not the point."
"Then what is the point?"
He looked at her, expression unreadable.
"That you need to trust. Not your eyes, not your fear — but your own instincts. And me."
Luna was quiet for a moment. "…Trust you, huh?"
"Yes."
She hesitated. The word "trust" lingered on her tongue like something fragile. But she nodded. "Then show me again."
The wind shifted, colder now. Orpheus closed his eyes, suppressing his aura until it vanished completely. He was gone — not in body, but in presence.
Luna stood still, her sword at the ready. The silence pressed in. There was no sound, no warmth, nothing to detect. It was as if the world itself held its breath.
Then—
