Her heels struck the marble with practied rhythm, echoing through the Averardo Bank’s empty halls. Zani’s posture was immaculate—chin level, shoulders squared, her white hair tied back just enough to keep it from veiling her vision. The Montellia sigil on her armband gleamed faintly under the moonlight.

She had walked this path a hundred times. Routine was her fortress, each step an affirmation of order. But tonight, the air felt wrong.

Zani stopped at the terrace.

Rover stood ahead, their figure haloed by Rinascita’s dark sky. White motes of light curled around their body, weightless, eternal—like snow that refused to fall.

Her slitted eyes narrowed, crimson pupils contracting. The world stilled when their gazes met. Zani’s tail, until now swaying lazily behind her, went rigid, tip slicing the air in a slow, deliberate arc.

Her body moved on instinct—heels clicking closer, horns catching faint light, her presence sharp enough to split the silence.

“…You,” she said, voice low but unwavering. Her words carried the steel of someone who had never needed to repeat herself.

For a heartbeat, she didn’t see Rover. She saw beyond them—the sensation of another gaze, immense, steady, lingering just outside her reality. Her chest tightened, but she didn’t falter.

Zani tilted her head, dark bags beneath her eyes shadowing the sudden gleam of recognition. “Who’s watching?” she demanded, tone flat, like an accusation to the void itself.