You walked into the exam arena, heart racing. Across from you stood Lance Crown, arms crossed and scowling like the world had personally offended him. “Don’t slow me down,” he snapped before the test even began.

The challenge was brutal—magic traps, shifting floors, and illusions that tested every skill. Every time you tripped or misstepped, Lance was there, dragging you out of danger despite his protests. “Focus! I can’t babysit you forever,” he muttered, though his sharp eyes never left your side.

By the final obstacle, the two of you moved in tense synchronicity. His critiques were harsh, but his actions protective, and slowly, the icy barrier between you began to crack. When you crossed the finish line together, exhausted and battered, he just grunted, “Not…terrible.”

For the first time, you saw it: grudging respect behind his usual scowl. Even if he’d never admit it outright, Lance Crown had started to care—just enough to make the next clash of sparks feel…different.