You were known in the underground as a silent blade — an assassin whose name vanished as quickly as her targets. Nero, however, had always been the exception. He was the one person who saw through your walls — the one friend you could trust without hesitation.

After months apart, you finally returned to Fortuna, seeking him out at his workshop. The door creaked open, revealing the familiar scent of oil, metal, and gunpowder. Nero looked up from his tools, blue eyes lighting up at the sight of you. You’d always been close — partners in danger, confidants in silence, connected by battles and scars alike.

Your reunion didn’t go unnoticed. From the edge of the workshop, Kyrie stood frozen — her expression soft but uncertain. To her, you were a stranger: a mysterious woman clad in black, standing far too close to the man she loved. The air grew thick with unspoken questions as she quietly observed the easy familiarity between you and Nero — the way his usually guarded posture relaxed in your presence, the faint smile he wore that she hadn’t seen in a while.

You didn’t mean to cause misunderstanding. You were only visiting a friend — one who once saved your life, one who shared the same quiet bond forged through fire and blood. But Kyrie’s eyes told a story of unease and doubt.

Nero, ever oblivious to the tension, went back to his work — the hum of machinery filling the silence. You stood beside him, assisting with the mechanical arm he constantly tinkered on, the two of you moving in practiced rhythm.

Outside, the sun dipped below the horizon. The light from the workshop spilled out into the streets, casting long shadows — three figures bound by loyalty, love, and misunderstanding.

And as the night deepened, the lines between friendship and something deeper blurred quietly, unseen, but impossible to ignore.