The soft clink of porcelain and muted conversations filled the elegant café on Valon’s main street. A faint aroma of roasted beans and honeyed bread floated through the air, blending with the warmth of late-morning sun filtering through tall crystal windows. Outside, the city stirred—rchants, students, and carriages moving across cobblestones in a dance of mundane purpose.
Noel sat near the window, dressed in a dark winter coat with silver trim, the collar raised just enough to brush his jawline. A half-finished cup of tea sat in front of him, untouched for the last ten minutes.
His eyes tracked the passersby, but his thoughts were elsewhere.
’The ssage said at noon. The courier dropped it off yesterday—this place, at this exact hour. Of course, little Noel’s opinion doesn’t matter.’
He glanced at the pocket watch on the table. Noel arrived early, as always.
The café was tastefully decorated—subtle floral arrangents rested in ceramic vases on each table, and fine latticework frad the windows like art. It wasn’t a place he would choose for comfort, but it fit her perfectly: polished, controlled, ornantal.
Then, he saw it.
A navy-blue carriage pulled by four white-bred horses rolled to a stop in front of the entrance. Its crest—House Thorne—glistened on the side in silver relief. It was the kind of display only his family would consider "modest."
’Right on ti.’
The door opened. A tall young woman stepped out, cloaked in a flowing winter mantle lined with silver thread. Her dark hair was twisted into a formal updo, and not a strand dared rebel. Every movent she made was precise, rehearsed—like she was always on a stage she never stepped down from.
Livia Thorne.
She entered without hesitation, heels clicking softly against the tiled floor.
When her eyes found Noel seated by the window, she didn’t smile. Noel, in turn, made no effort to rise, wave, or greet her with warmth. They didn’t have that kind of relationship.
He simply sat there, watching as she approached—like a soldier waiting for an old enemy across a chessboard.
’Let’s see how this plays out.’
Livia sat across from him, crossing her legs and brushing a nonexistent wrinkle from her gloves.
"Hello, dear sister," Noel said, tone dry.
"Spare the dear part. I’m not here of my own will," she replied coldly.
’As expected.’
"Then why are you here?" he asked, voice flat.
"Father sent ," she said, retrieving a letter from her elegant purse. The envelope was embossed with the sigils of House Thorne and House Lestaria. "He wanted to deliver the wedding invitation personally. Here."
Noel took the letter but didn’t open it. He didn’t thank her either.
"I see."
A beat of silence passed before he added, "So. How’s your future husband?"
Her lips curled in a faint, unreadable smile. "Oh? Is my little brother showing interest—or perhaps concern?"
Noel didn’t answer, just waited.
"He has blond hair and soft blue eyes," she continued. "He’s kind, considerate. Helps everyone. A true gentleman."
"Interesting," Noel murmured. "I read sowhere that the best relationships are built on contrast. I think Father nailed it—pairing soone like that with a snake."
Livia’s eyes narrowed, but her smile never wavered. "My, little brother has learned to joke?"
"No joke. I genuinely think soone like him might actually be good for you."
Before Livia could respond, a waitress approached their table.
"Would the lady like to order sothing?"
Livia gave a dismissive glance. "No need. I was just leaving."
She turned back to Noel. "Don’t play with fire, little brother. Father says your attendance is mandatory. You won’t be able to slip away."
Noel leaned back. "Duly noted. I love you too, sister."
She didn’t respond. She stood, turned, and walked away without a backward glance.
The waitress blinked. "Uh... would you like anything?"
"A coffee. And juice, please. For ."
She nodded and left.
Noel looked out the window again as the carriage disappeared down the street.
’Well, one less thing to worry about. Now... the exams.’
Noel walked down the street with his hands in his coat pockets, the warm aftertaste of coffee and citrus lingering on his tongue.
’Ever since I mixed the antidote with the coffee... the flavor’s been weirdly good. Maybe I’m just broken.’
The sun was beginning to set, casting golden hues along the cobbled roads of Valon. He turned a corner, already thinking ahead.
’I’ll incubate the egg once I’m back. That stupid pose again. Study while I—’
BAM!
Sothing hit him.
Or rather, soone.
A figure smaller than him had rounded the corner at speed, and crashed straight into his chest. Noel barely managed to keep his footing as the person stumbled back and landed on the ground.
Her hood slipped off.
Pink hair spilled out over her shoulders like cherry blossoms on snow.
Noel froze.
"...The Saint?"
Wide, gentle eyes blinked up at him in surprise—pure, almost glowing. There was sothing... calming about her gaze, like a warm spring breeze brushing against cold skin.
Before he could say anything else, she shot to her feet and grabbed his hand.
"Co with ."
"What—?"
He barely had ti to protest. She pulled with surprising strength, leading him towards an alley without looking back.
Noel stared at their joined hands, confused.
’What the hell is happening now?’
The Saint didn’t stop until she abruptly turned down a narrow alleyway between two stone buildings. The air slled of damp and spices—leftovers from so nearby shop. Noel, still confused, followed more out of instinct than intent.
Suddenly, she halted.
And gently pushed him against the wall.
Noel frowned, pinned between the cold stone and the intense gaze of the pink-haired girl. She stared at him with unusual focus, as if trying to see sothing beyond the physical—sothing within him.
They were less than a ter apart.
Too close.
’What the hell? Is she about to exorcise or kiss ? One of the two.’
Her eyes shimred with a mystical light—empathetic yet unwavering. Noel swallowed hard. Neither of them spoke for several seconds.
Until he raised an eyebrow, clearly uncomfortable.
"...Hello? Can I help you with sothing?"
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