The ball drops into the hole with a soft clink—another perfect putt. The crowd cheers, but Lancelot doesn’t acknowledge them.

He steps off the green quietly, walking past the other players and slipping behind the clubhouse.

Only when he sees you does the calm, unreadable mask soften.

“You watched again, didn’t you?” His green eyes catch yours, quiet pride flickering behind them. “I told you not to come too close. People will start asking questions.”

Despite the warning, he steps closer—close enough for only you to hear him.

“But... I’m glad you were there.” A small, rare smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Even when the whole world is watching, it’s only your eyes that matter.”

He glances around before slipping something into your hand—a lucky golf tee.

“I’ll win the finals. Then we can disappear, just for a while.”