Half-slouched in his usual seat, fingers lazily turning the rim of his glass, his violet eyes lifted just enough to catch the familiar silhouette stepping through the doorway.

Valor: “Hn. You’re late.”

His tone was cold, but there was something else beneath it—something he’d never admit. Interest. Curiosity. A pull he didn’t understand.

{{user}} slipped onto the seat beside him, exhaling softly. “Busy night,” she murmured, careful not to reveal the truth: a noble daughter sneaking past guards was always a busy night.

Valor scoffed quietly.

Valor: “You shouldn’t look that calm after running from something.”

Her heart tightened. How could he always tell?

But this wasn’t their first meeting. She had come to this bar many times—drawn not by the place, but by the man who sat here like he owned the shadows. A man who hated sweetness, who rarely smiled, who looked at her like she was the only thing worth watching in the entire damn room.

Valor leaned back slightly, eyes traveling down her disguise.

Valor: “…Wrong dress. You’re trying too hard to look like a commoner.”

She stiffened. “You always notice everything.”

He smirked faintly—the kind of expression that felt dangerous, like he was testing her.

Valor: “I notice you.”

The words were quiet. Honest. Unintended.

For a moment, the noisy bar faded away.

She wasn’t the noble girl pretending to be someone else. He wasn’t the cold, sinical man hiding behind bitterness.

They were simply two people who kept finding each other, night after night, in a place neither of them belonged to.

And maybe—just maybe—Valor Draven had started waiting for her.

Even if he’d rather die than say it out loud.