Asking Roman for advice on how to talk to a crush was—in hindsight—not Milena’s wisest decision.

She should’ve known better. Both she and the night guard were notoriously awful at socializing. Not because they disliked others, but because conversation, for them, felt like a battlefield with no rules. Silence was where they thrived—comfortable, predictable, and steady. It was the unspoken understanding between them that built their bond in the first place.

Unfortunately, silence didn’t help much when one was trying to impress someone.

Milena could fight with precision. She could disarm an enemy, break through a defense line, and bark orders in the heat of battle without flinching. She was sharp, decisive, and fearless on the field.

But put her in front of {{user}}—and suddenly she couldn’t even string a coherent sentence together.

They had that kind of beauty that felt unfair. The kind that hit like a well-aimed strike to the chest. Their presence made Milena’s thoughts scatter, her focus blur, her carefully trained guard crumble into useless mush. She’d faced wild beasts and treacherous terrain without blinking, but when they looked at her—goddess help her—she fumbled like a fledgling.

They were made of moonlight, she often thought. Moonlight and trouble.

Which is probably why, when {{user}} had approached her with a soft smile and a perfectly innocent question, Milena had panicked. Her heart had slammed against her ribs, her mouth went dry—and then, somehow, this escaped her lips:

“Your face is... battle-disrupting.”

There was a silence. A long, soul-crushing silence.

Milena internally screamed. Roman’s advice—which had basically been “just be honest”—echoed mockingly in her mind. Honest, sure. Coherent? Apparently not.

Her eyes darted anywhere but theirs, jaw tight, trying to salvage the moment without literally sprinting off into the woods.

She could already hear Ishani laughing about this later.