"Good, right?"
"Yea. You did it perfectly."
Inside the private lounge, where warm steam still drifted like the fading breath of a satisfied dragon, Noa stood before a polished bronze mirror and adjusted his hair—the strands Vionette had so carefully fixed moments ago. The reflection staring back at him was once again the familiar one: middle-parted, undercut sharp and clean, the style that made him look more composed than he actually was.
He ran his fingers through it once more, as if confirming that reality had indeed settled back into place.
"Let's go then."
Both had returned to their usual clothes, the silks and fabrics of their stations settling over them like armor after indulgence. The bamboo door slid open slowly, its hinges whispering secrets to the corridor beyond. Guards and attendants bowed in synchronized motion, their movements precise as falling dominoes.
"So, was it worth it?" Vionette leaned toward Noa's face with a slight smile, her voice light but edged with curiosity that shimmered like a blade beneath velvet.
"Hell yea. What did you expect for a man to say after taking a bath with the most beautiful woman?"
He spoke quickly—too quickly—like a man pretending irritation to conceal sincerity.
Vionette looked down at once.
Her fingers met each other shyly, brushing and weaving together, forming small, nervous patterns as though they were embroidering invisible flowers in the air. A delicate blush bloomed across her cheeks, pink as the first dawn over snow.
The most beautiful? The most beautiful? The most beautiful? The most beautiful?
The words echoed inside her mind like a temple bell struck over and over, refusing to fade.
Noa didn't care whether it was Vionette's body or Han Seoyeon's body. They were almost the same person—same memories, same ego, same feelings. Two mirrors facing each other across different worlds, reflecting endlessly into infinity. And from the first day they met, he had already told her that half of it was because of her personality.
This was not love born from battlefield desperation nor gratitude mistaken for affection. It was not a spark ignited by bloodshed or shared danger.
It was quieter than that.
More stubborn.
Like two lonely constellations drifting for centuries before finally aligning, their gravity pulling threads from each other's existence until neither star could remember where its light ended and the other's began.
They were not blazing.
They were weaving.
They were simply… compatible.
They walked down the lantern-lit hallway until they reached a crossroad. Steam lingered behind them like a curtain reluctant to fall. To the right lay other baths, humming faintly with distant laughter. To the left was the exit, where night air waited patiently.
Both turned left without discussion.
"Mmm…" Vionette stretched her hands above her head and interlocked her fingers, a soft screech escaping her lips. "That was refreshing."
"I know right?"
Hmm?
The reply did not come from Noa.
Nor was it a man's voice.
Vionette's steps faltered.
She slowly turned her head to the right, as if fearing that reality had decided to play a prank on her.
There stood Rose.
Behind her were Kaelen and Lucien.
"What the hell?"
"Eeeh? P-princess?"
Both Noa and Vionette leaned back in perfect synchronization, mouths open, eyes widened as if they had just seen a ghost rise from the bathwater.
Noa's fingers pointed accusingly at Kaelen and Lucien.
"Why are you guys here?"
He asked it like a betrayed husband catching friends at the wrong party.
…
Apparently, after drinking at the gambling house, Rose, Kaelen, and Lucien had decided that since fate had already gifted them coin and time, they might as well surrender to indulgence properly. So they came to the hot springs to relax before returning home.
"…that's it."
Rose explained calmly, already back in her usual composed head maid demeanor, as though she hadn't just walked into a scandal shaped like her princess and a certain commoner.
Kaelen stood straight as a spear planted in ceremonial ground. Lucien had his arms crossed behind his back, expression unreadable. They hadn't spent much time with Noa and Vionette outside duty, so politeness wrapped around them like invisible armor.
Noa waved his hand lazily.
"Just relax, dude. We're not on duty. Even if we were, it's fine, because I don't like it."
Kaelen and Lucien exchanged a glance—one of those silent soldier-to-soldier communications—before nodding slightly and relaxing their shoulders.
"Anyways, let's go home now. It's getting late."
As Noa and Vionette turned to leave, Rose's voice rose gently behind them.
"Umm… did you two go in alone?"
The question hung in the corridor like incense smoke.
Rose and the others had used gender-separated baths.
But from her angle… it didn't look like that was the case for these two.
After the question was asked, both Noa and Vionette twitched and froze mid-step.
"W-what if we did?"
"Y-yea… is that a problem?"
Their voices overlapped awkwardly, betraying guilt far louder than confession.
Rose crossed her arms and leaned forward slightly, giving them a look that could peel paint.
So they did go to the same one.
She sighed inwardly.
I don't know what the princess is even doing with a commoner as her partner. Well… he is capable though. I guess it's alright?
Though she was irritated by Noa's behavior, she didn't hate him. She had seen what he was capable of. And more importantly, she had seen the way Vionette smiled around him—the kind of smile that loosened the rigid posture of royalty.
So she accepted it.
Rose began walking after them just as Noa and Vionette suddenly started sprinting down the hallway like fugitives escaping divine judgment.
Kaelen and Lucien followed, glancing at each other with identical side-eyes, rolling their shoulders as if silently asking: What in the world did we walk into?
***
"Haaah~"
Morning arrived like a lazy cat stretching across marble floors.
Noa woke in his bed and stretched his arms upward, joints popping softly. His chamber was a marriage of royal luxury and quiet modern elegance. A large white bed draped in fine silk stood at the center like a throne disguised as comfort. Marble floors reflected pale morning light. Golden accents traced the edges of the room like restrained sunlight.
Crystal lights shimmered overhead, and sleek lamps stood watch in silence. The room was rich, yet minimal—like a king who didn't feel the need to shout.
Maybe I drank too much yesterday. Or… enjoyed yesterday?
He lay there for a moment longer, replaying Vionette's expressions in his mind.
The way she scrunched her face when eating something too spicy.
The way she blushed under a single towel.
The way her eyes sharpened when he teased her.
Each memory flickered like scenes from a private film only he was allowed to watch.
After brushing his teeth and washing his face, he looked into the mirror and fixed his hair again. Then he changed from pajamas into his usual black outfit—the color settling over him like a shadow reclaiming its shape.
The voice resonated inside his mind through their skill, [A Match Made in Hell].
This was the first time she had used it.
Noa blinked in surprise.
He had nearly forgotten they could see each other's perspective and speak anytime through it.
There was no reason.
And yet there was.
[Blink]
Noa vanished, teleporting to a location within sight. The world folded like paper and unfolded again elsewhere.
She is getting bold lately.
…
Creak.
The grand wooden doors of Vionette's office—each nearly twice Noa's height—opened slowly.
"There you are."
Her voice greeted him first, soft as silk brushing against skin.
The first sound in the morning. I love it.
He closed the door behind him and turned.
Then his body froze.
Again.
Vionette perched atop her work desk like a queen who had decided to entertain boredom instead of rule it.
Tight black long pants traced her legs like ink drawn deliberately across parchment. Black heels rested lightly against the polished wood. A tucked white long-sleeved shirt sharpened her silhouette, the contrast stark and commanding.
Her legs were crossed with deliberate ease.
One hand held a sheet of paper as the other steadied it against her thigh.
Round glasses framed her crimson eyes, catching faint light like twin embers behind crystal.
All of her white hair was gathered and twisted, drawn over her left shoulder, falling forward like a pale ribbon poured from moonlight.
Noa's gaze traveled up.
Then down.
Then up again.
A single drop of blood slipped from his nose.
"Heheh. I knew you would like it."
She smiled like a fox that had laid a trap days ago and finally heard it snap.
She had worn these clothes before. To others, it was nothing new.
But she knew.
She knew he liked seeing her in different designs ever since he gave her the earring.
"I like it a lot. But—" he wiped the blood with the back of his hand. "Why did you call for me?"
His tone didn't shift to seriousness.
For them, even work was a kind of amusement—a game played between two sharp minds lounging on a throne of responsibility.
"Well," she said lightly, "because war is going to happen."
She handed him the letter.
Noa sat on her chair. Vionette slid sideways onto the chair's armrest—manchette—leaning against him casually, placing her left hand on his right shoulder.
Why are we so close?
He read carefully.
…
To Her Majesty of Crimvane,
By decision of the Eryndor High Council, we hereby declare our formal alignment with the Crown of Crimvane in the coming conflict against Aurelyth.
Eryndor recognizes the sovereignty of Crimvane and shall provide diplomatic, economic, and logistical support for the duration of the war. Trade routes under our control will remain open to Crimvane supply caravans, and our intelligence networks will share strategic observations where permitted.
This decision was not made lightly. However, Aurelyth's recent mobilization along the eastern mountain passes indicates preparation for large-scale military action within approximately one month's time. Their supply caravans have increased in frequency, and mercenary contracts have been issued across three neutral city-states.
Eryndor submits this intelligence as proof of good faith and loyalty to the Crown of Crimvane.
May this alliance preserve stability across the continent.
Respectfully,
Representative of the Eryndor High Council.
…
When he finished, he looked up.
"Do they have the best survival instincts or what?"
He was genuinely surprised. Eryndor choosing Crimvane over Aurelyth—power over prosperity.
Vionette adjusted his collar gently, though it wasn't crooked.
She just wanted to touch him.
"I guess going to Eryndor castle that day was the right decision."
"You can say that, yea." He leaned back slightly, feeling her warmth against him. "So what now?"
She tilted her head upward, crimson eyes gleaming beneath the glasses.
"We have at least a month. As I said to Valric, we'll hold a meeting with the nobles in five days. After that…" she glanced at him sideways, "we'll be going to make your sword."
She paused.
"On that note, did you find any good material for it?"
Noa leaned back and smiled slowly.
"Yea. A gooood one~"
"Oho? Where is it?"
"Northern region."
She tapped a finger against her cheek thoughtfully, calculating distance and time.
"That should be more than enough."
Then—
Creak.
The office door opened quietly and Rose entered carrying a tray of food.
She stopped.
Blinked.
She scanned them again.
One sitting in the chair. One perched on the armrest, leaning onto him.
"You move quickly," Rose said flatly. "No, this is too quickly."
Noa looked up lazily.
Vionette didn't even move away.
Instead, she adjusted her glasses calmly and said with complete composure,
"We are discussing war."
Rose's eyelid twitched.
"Of course you are."
Behind her composed face, a silent prayer echoed:
May the kingdom survive both the external war… and whatever this is.