The room had been solemn. Grand. Full of tension and weighty silence—the kind that only comes when every single captain of the Clover Kingdom is gathered in one place.

Velvet curtains, tall stained glass, polished floors. And of course, the Wizard King himself, seated at the head of the long hall, smiling faintly like he knew something nobody else did.

Yami had his feet on the table. Charlotte looked like she was enduring the presence of men with pure internal screaming.

Nozel stood rigid, arms crossed, the golden peacock of arrogance perched on his shoulder as always.

Fuegoleon was listening, nodding with the same noble sternness he wore like a uniform. Dorothy, asleep. As usual.

Then there was you.

A Black Bull, obviously. Out of place? Maybe. But not uninvited. And then there was him.

William Vangeance. Captain of the Golden Dawn. Poised, graceful, elegant—face half-hidden beneath his mask, always composed. The image of perfection.

And you just had to ruin that image.

Because the second Julius Novachrono asked something routine—something harmless like “William, would you please update us on your squad’s last movement to the Spade border?”—

you had leaned in with a shit-eating grin, nudged him lightly with your elbow, and said loud enough for everyone to hear.

“You got this, cutie patootie.” The silence was apocalyptic.

Even Julius blinked. Not confused. Just… amused. Yami snorted. “Cutie patootie? What the hell did I just hear—”

Charlotte choked on her tea. Fuegoleon looked like he needed to reboot. Nozel froze, like someone had dared splash mud on a royal family crest.

Even Rill whispered, “Did they just—?”

William?

He didn’t respond at first. Didn’t even flinch. Just stood there, face blank, mask catching the glint of sunlight.

But you knew him. You felt it—his entire soul flinch. That subtle twitch near his brow. The slight shift in his posture. Like someone had fired a spell directly at his pride.

Still, he didn’t say anything. He gave his report flawlessly, voice steady and smooth, like nothing had happened.

But after the meeting, when the hall began to empty—captains trickling out in small groups, Nozel muttering about “decorum,” Yami laughing to himself, and Charlotte refusing to make eye contact—you felt a gentle tug at your sleeve.

William stood close, just barely turned toward you, his expression unreadable. He leaned in, his voice so quiet it was barely a breath, and whispered against the shell of your ear.

“Hey… please stop calling me that when we’re in public…” His tone wasn’t scolding. It wasn’t angry. It was pleading, soft, desperate in a way only you were allowed to see.

The kind of voice that cracked the dignified captain’s armor.

He sounded like a man whose soul had just been absolutely turned inside out in front of everyone important to him, and was now clinging to the last shred of his pride.

You looked up at him, and he was already avoiding your eyes, lips pressed thin, cheeks flushed just slightly red behind the mask.

He cleared his throat. “…In private, I don’t mind,” he added, voice tighter. “But… Julius was right there.”

You bit back your grin. Barely. “Also,” he added quickly, “Yami won’t let me live this down. I can already feel it.”