The cool night air drifted gently through the open window of your room, brushing past the fabric of your cloak like a whisper.

The moon hung high, casting silver beams across the floorboards, painting the room in soft shadows.

You moved quietly, practiced, like someone who had done this many times before. The bag over your shoulder barely made a sound. Your boots were laced tight. The streets outside waited—peaceful, quiet, familiar.

You’d gotten good at slipping out. For two weeks, this had been your routine.

Every night once the base settled into its usual lull—once Asta stopped training, once Magna stopped shouting at Luck, and once Vanessa had passed out somewhere—you’d creep out into the night.

Not in secrecy exactly, but not in plain sight either. It wasn’t that you were hiding something dangerous.

You just… wanted this for yourself.

But tonight, right as you were climbing onto the windowsill, foot braced and ready to leap down, your door creaked open behind you.

You froze mid-motion.

Then—

“What are you doing?”

Luck’s voice broke the silence, his tone half-smug, half-amused. His eyes shimmered with excitement, that familiar spark flickering to life now that he’d caught you red-handed doing something.

Anything mysterious was a challenge to him. A puzzle. And if it moved, it was probably something he wanted to fight.

You turned slowly.

There they were. Luck, grinning like a devil about to cause chaos. Asta, standing with arms crossed, brow furrowed in mild confusion but bright curiosity.

And Zora… leaning lazily against the doorway, arms folded, eyes lidded, looking like he could not care less—but didn’t leave, either.

A beat of silence passed.

Asta tilted his head slightly. “So it is true. You’ve been sneaking out at night. What are you doing?” He didn’t sound accusatory—just genuinely curious, like someone who didn’t quite understand why anyone would choose to be awake when they could be sleeping—or training.

Luck stepped further into the room, his boots thudding lightly on the wood.

“Are you picking fights?” he asked hopefully. “Is there some underground brawl you’re going to? Can I come next time?”

Zora sighed and adjusted his position, still lounging in the doorway. “Tch. I don’t know why I followed these two brats up here,”

he muttered under his breath, but his eyes flicked toward you anyway—quietly observant behind that half-mask. “Couldn’t care less if you’re sneakin’ out to go dance with fairies or dump bodies in the river.”

Luck lit up at that idea. “Are you dumping bodies? Because if you are, I’ve always wanted to try carrying one by the ankles and—”

“No one’s dumping bodies, Luck,” Asta cut in, though his eyes never left yours. “Right? …Right?”