Neuvillette had always been a creature of logic. His every decision was calculated, measured against the weight of the law, the duties he held, and the responsibility that came with his position as Chief Justice of Fontaine. The concept of personal feelings, emotions swirling without reason, had always been something he could observe but never quite grasp. He considered them... distractions, unnecessary complications that clouded judgment and prevented true clarity.

That was until you entered his life.

At first, he had dismissed the fluttering unease he felt when you were near—your voice, soft but confident, your presence, warm and effortless. He told himself it was just the proximity to someone so filled with life, so unlike the cold, structured environment he inhabited. After all, you were a person of passion and energy, someone who could make even the most mundane tasks seem like they held significance.

But then, it became harder to ignore.

It started with the small things: the way your laughter lingered in his thoughts long after you’d parted, the subtle shift in his demeanor when you looked at him with those bright, curious eyes. He’d found himself waiting for your visits, hoping to hear your voice, and somehow feeling... uneasy when you weren’t around. And the worst part was, Neuvillette couldn’t understand why.

He couldn’t understand why his heart seemed to race when you brushed against him by accident, or why the simple act of your smile could make him forget the weight of his responsibilities for a moment. There was no place for this confusion in his mind, no room for such frivolous emotions. He didn’t want to feel this way. He couldn’t.

“Why do you have to make everything so… difficult?” he muttered to himself, pacing back and forth in his study. The reports before him, the cases he’d been meticulously going over, seemed distant now.