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The humiliation, the helplessness, the sheer frustration of being rendered powerless against the Dark Guild’s ambush.

Her shaful performance replayed like a cruel echo.

And now—now of all tis—she would have to be in the sa team as Harry.

Her chest rose and fell a little quicker, her breath uneven. She exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself, and muttered inwardly, ’Why am I getting so worked up over this anyway...?’

She told herself firmly that this didn’t an anything. That it was just another guild arrangent, nothing more. That Harry was simply another Elentalist—strong, yes, unusual, yes, but nothing beyond that.

And yet, her heart refused to listen.

It beat faster, louder, as if mocking her reasoning.

Her nails dug lightly into her palms.

Then Seraphina’s voice broke the silence again, calm but carrying an odd note, almost teasing.

"He’s still in the guild," she said evenly. "You can et him... if you want."

For so reason, a rather cheeky smile tugged at her lips as she said it.

Miranda’s eyes widened slightly at the words. She froze, her chest tightening again, and the thought ford in her mind, sharp and clear—

’He’s... here in the guild?’

Miranda’s lips parted, the words almost tripping over themselves as they left her mouth.

"Ohh... o-okay," she stuttered, her usually steady voice breaking in a way that embarrassed her even further.

Her cheeks betrayed her instantly. A faint heat spread across her face, a subtle tinge of red creeping upward.

She quickly averted her gaze, hoping Seraphina hadn’t noticed the change in her expression, though deep down she knew her older sister missed nothing.

She gave a short, polite nod, more to cover her fluster than anything else, and turned around stiffly.

Without another word, she walked towards the door and stepped out of the office. The mont the heavy wooden door closed behind her with a soft thud, she pressed her palm against her chest.

Her heart was racing.

Thump!

Thump!

Thump!

It wasn’t loud enough for anyone else to hear, but to her, it echoed through her ears, resounding like a drum.

’You did sothing embarrassing... but that’s all that happened,’ she told herself, exhaling slowly.

The words were ant as reassurance, but they only made her cheeks feel hotter.

She bit her lip, forcing herself to breathe evenly, and began walking briskly down the quiet corridor.

Minutes ticked by, and soon she reached the end of the hallway. A faint ding rang out, followed by the smooth shhhk sound of tal sliding against tal.

The elevator doors opened.

Miranda stepped inside, her reflection staring back at her from the polished interior.

She avoided her own gaze, fixing her eyes on the glowing panel above. The ride was brief, but her chest still felt unsteady, her mind tangled with thoughts she couldn’t shake off.

Another faint ding echoed, and the doors slid open again.

She stepped out, her heels clicking lightly against the marble-tiled floor.

And then—

Her breath caught in her throat.

Standing a short distance away, frad by the busy guild hall’s lighting, was a figure she imdiately recognized.

A handso youth, tall and straight-backed, with neatly kept brown hair that fell just enough to fra his face.

His eyes, deep pitch-black and sharp like polished obsidian, seed to carry a weight that was difficult to describe.

Harry Ainsworth!

The na burst into her thoughts before she could stop it, and her body reacted before her mind had fully processed the sight. Her heart skipped a beat.

Her steps faltered. For a fraction of a second, she froze, as though rooted to the spot.

Harry hadn’t noticed her.

He was walking alongside one of the guild staff mbers, a woman who appeared to be guiding him through the expansive guild building.

The staff was pointing things out as they went, his hand gesturing toward various corridors, staircases, and training facilities.

Harry, for his part, seed more absorbed in his surroundings than anything else.

His eyes flickered across the guild’s architecture, the layout, the faint glint of guild insignias etched into the walls. His gaze held that usual intensity, calm but unyielding, sharp but never hurried.

To Miranda, though, the fact that he hadn’t yet looked her way was both a blessing and a curse.

She drew in a shallow breath, her fingers curling slightly against her sides.

Her fists clenched—lightly, almost subconsciously.

Her chest rose and fell faster than before. She told herself it was just nerves, just surprise at the sudden encounter. Nothing more. But her body wasn’t listening.

Her heart kept pounding, loud and relentless, like a storm pressing against the edges of her composure.

She exhaled, her lips parting just slightly, and forced herself to turn away.

’I have... sothing to do anyway,’ she told herself, grasping at the excuse, her steps quickening.

Without another glance, she moved in the opposite direction, though her ears strained against her will, catching the faint rhythm of Harry’s steady footsteps as he continued deeper into the guild.

Without even realizing it, her feet slowed just slightly, and her head tilted ever so faintly to the side. Almost as if drawn by sothing beyond her control, her eyes strayed once more toward him.

A subconscious act—quick, fleeting, and yet so deliberate it felt as though her very heart had commanded it.

And then it happened.

Harry turned.

As though guided by so unseen string, his head shifted in her direction at that exact mont.

Their gazes collided, sharp and sudden, locking in place as though neither of them had prepared for it.

Her breath stilled in her throat instantly, and for a fraction of a second, she forgot the world around her existed.

She froze.

Those eyes—pitch black, yet not entirely. For in that single heartbeat, she could have sworn she saw sothing within them.

A faint glow. A ripple of blue that flickered within the darkness, subtle and fleeting, yet vivid enough to make her question her own vision.

It was like staring into a calm lake under a midnight sky, only to catch a spark of lightning flashing beneath the surface.

It was a strange sight, but sohow, it was srizing even if it was just a glance.

Her lips parted softly, almost as though to ask herself, ’Did I... really see that?’

But before she could be certain, she blinked.

And it was gone.

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