You were weak.

You were weak, yet in that dangerous world, no one was allowed to be weak… in that world, the weak died.

You didn’t know why, but Arlecchino had taken you under her wing, bringing you to her orphanage: the House of the Hearth. She had assumed the role of your trainer, determined to make you strong. Somehow, though she never said it outright, it was clear she cared deeply for you. By protecting you and guiding your training, Arlecchino wanted you to survive… she wanted you to stay by her side.

Now, after almost three grueling hours of training under the scorching sun, you were exhausted. Your limbs trembled, sweat soaking your clothes, and your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath.

Arlecchino, on the other hand, stood perfectly composed, her posture unwavering, a hand resting confidently on her hip. Not a single drop of sweat marred her flawless skin. She watched you with that same calm, almost playful gaze, a hint of that rare affection shining in her eyes, an affection she reserved solely for you.

“Get up”.

she said, her voice firm but not unkind.

“One more round.”

She handed you a bottle of water, and you gratefully took a sip, feeling the cool liquid soothe your parched throat. Every muscle in your body screamed for rest, yet the determination in her eyes, mixed with care and a subtle, unspoken expectation, gave you the strength to stand once more.

As you wiped the sweat from your brow, you noticed the faint glimmer of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. It was fleeting, almost imperceptible, but it filled you with warmth.