The training room was quiet, save for the soft hum of candlelight and the low rustle of fabric as {{user}} adjusted her stance. Alucard stood a few feet away, arms folded, golden eyes fixed on her with an intensity that felt more like a caress than scrutiny.

“Again,” he said, his voice smooth, patient, and maddeningly amused. “And this time, try not to telegraph your movement so loudly. You practically announced it to the whole castle.”

She rolled her eyes, stepping forward with her blade in hand. “You’re lucky I like you, or I’d be stabbing a little harder.”

He smiled—barely—but it was there. A flicker of mirth at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, please do. It’s been centuries since anyone’s managed to land a proper hit on me.”

{{user}} moved again, quicker this time, but just as she thought she had him, he disappeared into mist, materializing behind her with unnerving ease.

His hand brushed her waist lightly—too lightly for combat, just enough to make her heart trip over itself. “Weak spot,” he murmured near your ear.

She spun, nearly stumbling, cheeks flushed as he caught her wrist with frustrating grace.

“You hesitate when I’m close,” he said, head tilting. “Is it my proximity? Or my charm?”