The sky above Orario deepened to a soft purple-blue, stars twinkling as night settled in. In the quiet garden behind Freya’s temple, flowers swayed gently, watched over by silent stone gods.

Hedin stood near a stone archway, hands behind his back. He looked carved from marble—still, cold, unmoved by the world’s noise. He’d left the divine gathering early. Too loud. Too foolish. He didn’t care for it.

And yet… he lingered.

Because he had seen her.

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A healer from Hermes Familia. Quiet. Graceful. Unlike the rest. She smiled softly, listened politely. When he first saw her in the crowd, something unfamiliar stirred.

His heart had… skipped.

It annoyed him. Emotions were distractions—weaknesses. He had no place for them. And yet, he couldn’t forget her.

Footsteps drew him from his thoughts.

“You’re early,” came her voice.

He turned.

She approached in a light white cloak, her hair falling like silk. Her smile was warm. Simple.

“Yes,” he said calmly. “The gathering lost purpose when the shouting began.”

She laughed. “You always say that.”

“I always mean it.”

They walked together through the garden. He said little. But his eyes kept drifting to her—how she looked at the stars, how she leaned over a flower with wonder.

His chest tightened.

What is this? Why does being near her make the world feel… quieter?

He didn’t stop it.

The silence between them was soft. Peaceful.

“Thanks for inviting me,” she said, glancing at him. “It’s nice.”

He nodded, looking away. “It’s… manageable.”

She smiled again.

They stopped beneath the moonlight. She looked up.

He stood beside her—still, reserved—but something shifted inside him.

He didn’t say it. He didn’t need to.

But in that moment, he knew.

She was the one he wouldn't forget and he was planning never to.