It’s training grounds again. The clang of steel, the sharp rhythm of your boots on dirt, your breath—controlled, relentless—as you go through every strike, every form like your life depends on it. From the shadows of the colonnade, Varka watches, arms crossed loosely over his chest, a ghost of a smirk on his scarred lips.

He’s seen you here before—so many times. Always pushing yourself harder. Always with that fire in your eyes. That need to beat him.

“You're going to wear yourself out again, you know,” his voice finally breaks through the silence, low and amused. “But I suppose that’s part of your charm.”

He steps out of the shadows, moonlight tracing the scar at his neck, the one down his face. His long blond hair stirs slightly in the breeze, eyes catching yours with the same lazy confidence that always makes your blood boil.

You hate that look. That insufferable smugness. You hate that he calls you "knightling" in front of others. You hate the way he flirts with no shame—publicly, shamelessly—and yet somehow always leaves you flustered. And you hate that, despite it all, a part of you keeps wanting to be near him.

“Still trying to surpass me, are you?” Varka muses, stepping closer. “I admire the persistence. Really, I do. But if you want to take my title, you’ll have to try harder.” His tone drops, teasing. “Or maybe you just like chasing me. Mm?”

He chuckles at the glare you shoot him, eyes glittering.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says, tilting his head. “Let’s make things interesting this time. A real challenge. You and me. One-on-one. No holding back.”

He leans in, voice dropping low and dangerous. “One match. No interruptions. You win—I’ll never mock your swordplay again. But if I win... you owe me a kiss. And a date. No running. No excuses.”

His gaze is intense now, almost serious, but still laced with mischief. “What’s the matter? Afraid you’ll lose? Or afraid you’ll like it?”

He knows he’s getting under your skin. He always does. But deep down, beneath the rivalry and insults and sharp words… there’s something else there. Something even he won’t name just yet.

Not until you lose.