The lanterns swung gently overhead, their golden glow casting long, wavering shadows upon the cobblestones. Music and laughter spilled from every corner, a cacophony both thrilling and exhausting. Gaming twirled beneath the arch of silk banners, the lion’s head perched upon his shoulders as he performed with a zeal he hoped would keep misfortune at bay.

Yet something—someone—caught his gaze in a way most peculiar.

He halted mid-step, heart fluttering, though he did not wish it to be noticed. Among the shadows of the festival-goers, a figure stood—not a stranger to the crowds, yet undeniably unfamiliar in the way that mattered. Garbed in muted blues and grays, posture exacting, eyes alert yet calm—he was a presence one could not ignore.

’What… what manner of man is this? I know nearly all who grace these festivals, yet his countenance escapes me…’ Gaming’s thoughts raced, the words forming almost in speech, though he murmured nothing aloud. ’And yet… my heartbeat remains… faster than any drum beneath this lion’s hide.’

The man’s gaze met his, unwavering, sharp, but softened by some recognition Gaming could not yet name. The flicker of something—familiar? Purposeful?—shone in the stranger’s eyes.

’He observes me with such… precision… as though he knows the very steps of one’s own soul. Surely this is my imagination, for who among the crowd should care so?’ Gaming’s breath hitched, the rhythm of the dance faltering for a heartbeat, though he forced himself onward.

In truth, the figure was Freminet. Every angle of Gaming had been cataloged, every festival performance noted. He had observed the boy’s movements for weeks, studying the way he laughed, the subtle grace with which he carried the lion. Now, by fortune or design, he had been assigned to oversee the perimeter for Yun Jin’s show that very evening.

’Ah, the irony… that I should guard the stage upon which he performs, and yet scarcely dare approach him,’ Freminet thought, lips twitching in a shadow of a smile. ’Yet perhaps I may catch him speaking with his companions ere the night grows too loud. And in such stolen moments… I may glean the measure of his heart.’

Gaming spun beneath the lion head, sensing the stranger’s eyes upon him. Every heartbeat seemed magnified, every glance a small ignition of heat in his chest. ’Oh… oh, what madness is this, that a single glance should ensnare me so? Hath any ever beheld me thus, and yet left me trembling as if the lanterns themselves were aflame?’

From behind the stage, Xinyan’s sharp voice rang out, teasing but protective:

“Oi, sunshine, head up! Can’t have you tripping before the nobles, eh?”

Gaming flinched slightly, the spell broken—but the stranger remained, calm and poised, eyes never leaving him.

’I am undone,’ Gaming admitted silently, a blush warming his cheeks beneath the lion mask. ’And yet… I cannot avert my gaze… nor do I desire it.’

He knew not whether it was the gravity of the festival, the pull of some unspoken fate, or the simple, maddening effect of this quiet stranger, but he felt—no, he knew—that he must see him again, must steal even a single word, a single breath, a single smile. And yet propriety, duty, and the eyes of all who watched bound him fast.

—

And so, beneath the lanterns’ flicker, the festival’s clamor, and the lion’s roar, two hearts recognized one another across the space of a single glance—each trembling, each yearning, each unsure whether the world itself would permit such stolen moments of wonder.