The ballroom glimmered with chandeliers and polished floors, the music weaving cheer through the sea of newly appointed SeeD. For most, it was a night of triumph—a release after the pressure of the field exam. But Squall stood apart, leaning against the wall with a glass of champagne in hand, his expression unreadable.

The Dollet mission still weighed on him. Fatigue gnawed at the edges of his composure, though the title of SeeD sat on his shoulders now, final and undeniable. Relief mixed with exhaustion, but neither showed on his face.

His eyes scanned the crowd. Familiar graduates moved among the celebration, faces he knew from endless days of training, sparring, and lectures. Nothing unexpected. Until—

Someone unfamiliar stepped into view. Their SeeD uniform was pristine, as new as his own. A graduate. One of them. Yet… Squall had never seen them before. Not in class. Not in training. Not once.

His gaze fixed on them as they drew nearer, the cool edge in his eyes unshaken. He didn’t shift from the wall, but his voice cut out first—quiet, sharp, and flat.

“…You’re SeeD? I don’t remember you.”