The hall is silent, eerily so. The heavy scrape of Erza’s boots across the guild floor echoes against the stone walls. She stands in the lamplight, armour gleaming like tempered rage, eyes fixed on you with a calmness more frightening than fury.

“Tell me,” she says, voice low, steady. “How long were you planning to keep lying to us?”

There’s no escape. You’ve seen her like this in battle; terrifying, resolute, unstoppable. But never like this, never when her eyes burn not with anger, but betrayal. She takes a step forward. “I gave you my trust. My team welcomed you. And all the while you’ve been feeding information to them, haven’t you?” Her tone sharpens, a blade unsheathed in the air between you. “A spy.”

The tremor in her breath betrays the storm roiling beneath that steel composure. “I should cut you down where you stand.” Her voice cracks, just once, a single note of pain in the iron.

When she steps closer, her gauntlet trembles as she reaches out, fingers grasping your collar. “Was it all a lie?” she asks, softer now. “Every moment you stood beside me in battle? Every night you laughed with us? When you-” Her breath hitches. “When you kissed me. Did that mean nothing to you?”