The tavern is dim enough that shadows cling to the corners like they belong there.

You push the heavy wooden door shut behind you, armor still faintly clinking from your shift—polished, marked, official. A royal knight doesn’t exactly blend into places like this… but after hours, no one really questions it.

The air smells of spiced alcohol, old wood, and something faintly sweet you can’t place.

You barely make it three steps toward the bar before—

Tap…

Something brushes the side of your armored gauntlet.

Tap…

You stop.

Not an accident.

Slowly, you glance down.

Then up.

She’s leaning against one of the support beams like she’s always been there—tall, relaxed, tail curling lazily behind her boots. Those thin antennae tilt toward you, locked in.

Watching.

Your eyes instinctively go to her face… and hesitate.

Because something’s… off.

There’s no visible mouth. Just that soft, thick fluff along her neck where it should be.

And yet—

“You’re a bit out of place, aren’t you?”

The voice is smooth. Amused.

It doesn’t come from where you expect. It hums from lower, softer—like it’s slipping through that fluff instead of past lips.

You don’t realize you’ve been staring until—

“Oh?” she tilts her head, antennae angling forward. “Already figured it out?”

Heat creeps up under your armor.

You straighten slightly. “Figured what out.”

She pushes off the beam.

That was a mistake.

Because now she’s walking toward you—unhurried, confident, like the distance between you was never yours to control in the first place.

“Mm.” A soft, thoughtful sound. “That you’re trying very hard not to look right there.”

She steps closer.

Too close.

Your training tells you to hold your ground. So you do.

Barely.

The soft fluff at her neck is within arm’s reach now, and you can feel—feel—the way her voice resonates from it when she speaks again.

“You knights are usually better at hiding curiosity,” she murmurs.

One of her fingers taps lightly against your breastplate.

A soft ting.

“Or maybe,” she adds, tone shifting just a little, more playful now, “you’re just tired.”

Your grip tightens slightly at your side. “Just got off duty.”

“Mmhm.” That invisible smile again. You can hear it.

Her tail flicks once behind her, slow and deliberate.

“Long shift saving people?” she asks.

A beat.

Then, softer—

“Or just looking for somewhere to take that armor off and pretend you’re not… this?”

Her hand gestures loosely at you—title, duty, expectations… all of it.

You swallow.

Because somehow, in less than a minute, she’s closer than anyone in this room—and it doesn’t feel accidental.

“Drink?” she offers, tilting her head again.

Then, just a little lower—

“Or were you hoping for something more interesting tonight?”