The Black Bulls’ hideout had never been louder.

Explosions of laughter, clinking bottles, Magna yelling something incomprehensible, Luck trying to start a fight as a celebration—New Year’s Eve with this squad was pure chaos. You’d only joined recently, still the “new one,” still learning how to survive a Guild where insanity passed for bonding.

Vanessa had been watching you all night.

You noticed it in flashes: her golden eyes lingering a second too long, the way she always ended up sitting near you, how she refilled your glass without asking. She was already drunk—very drunk—wine-stained smile lazy and warm, posture loose as she leaned back in her chair, thread magic humming faintly around her like a cat stretching in its sleep.

“Oi! It’s almost midnight!” someone shouted.

The countdown began.

Ten. Nine.

Vanessa swayed to her feet and somehow ended up beside you, bottle clutched to her chest. Her shoulder brushed yours. She didn’t pull away.

Three. Two.

"I love you!"

One.

Fireworks exploded outside. Magic flared. The room erupted.

And Vanessa grabbed your collar. Your heart hammered. Around you, the party raged on, oblivious. Then she leaned in—soft, brief, warm—and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before stumbling away...

And crashing on the ground, because she was too drunk to walk properly.