He’d planned to say it on purpose—bait on a hook in dark water—to trade words for terms, to make Lucimia and Rexi abandon something.

He hadn’t thought of it when he first agreed; the thought surfaced only now, a bubble rising late.

He thought it was a crack in the wall; turned out it was a snare Lucimia set, silk hiding steel.

Why is this girl so terrifying, like a quiet fox in frost?

In only minutes, she saw the Duel had holes, smelled cheat on the wind, and spun a net inside a net.

She did it inside someone else’s designed Duel, a thief under lantern light.

Does a person like that really exist in this world, a blade wrapped in petals?

How do you even play this game, with the board tilting like rain-slick stone?

He admitted he’d underestimated her; that slip felt like a step off a cliff into mist.

He wracked his brain, waves slapping rock, and found no good path.

At last his gaze fell to the wineglass by Rexi’s hand, a small moon in a pool.

The rules… didn’t seem to forbid violence, a cold door left ajar.

Which meant he could seize the glass by force, storm over a fence.

His eyes turned wolfish, flint under ash, but he held back.

He knew the two before him were no weak reeds in wind.

Nearest to Roen, Rexi felt the change like a draft through paper.

She shielded the glass with both hands, drew it close to her chest, and glared. “Don’t you dare.”

Lucimia saw it too, like reading ink on snow, and spoke softly with iron.

“If you want to fight, try it. Your end won’t be just a stupor.”

Roen said nothing, a stone sunk in water.

“Concede,” Lucimia said, voice calm as rain on tiles.

Roen ground his teeth, head low, thoughts knotted like vines.

After a long breath, he exhaled, mist in cold air, and opened his mouth. “You’re strong. I con—”

“Hold it!” A sharp female voice cut down from the second floor, a hawk’s cry.

Lucimia and Rexi looked up. At the railing stood a beautiful woman, lantern-bright.

She looked eighteen or nineteen, between girl and lady, casual clothes flowing like creekwater.

Her hair fell to her waist, white with pink streaks, a soft curl like frost touched by dawn.

She frowned slightly, snapped her fingers, and her figure flickered.

She appeared beside Roen—Instant Movement, a thunderclap without thunder.

One simple motion showed a high level of magic, a blade drawn clean.

Her gaze skimmed past Rexi, then settled on Lucimia, steady as moonlight.

“I’m the Time Stasis Bearer you’re looking for. Call me Anliena.”

“Anliena…” Lucimia repeated, the name folded into her sleeve.

She measured the woman, eyes like scales weighing gold.

If she was a Time Stasis Bearer, did she also make the Storage Ring, a shell hiding tide?

But she looked so young; Lucimia had pictured an elder, pine roots and snow.

Anliena saw Lucimia thinking, like catching ripples, and added, “The Storage Ring wasn’t made by me alone.”

She moved on like turning a page. “I hold no malice.

Roen and Yael acted on their own. I didn’t order them.”

Yael must be that thorny man, a briar underfoot.

Rexi didn’t buy it; she shot her a look, cold as sleet. “You say so, and that’s truth?

If you weren’t involved, why use Time Halt to help him cheat?

Now you’re losing, and you step out claiming no malice?”

“That’s because I didn’t want him hurt,” Anliena said, words like thin ice. “They’re important.”

“Tch. Then what?” Rexi snapped, sparks on stone. “Can a Duel be revoked?

Even if it can, why would I agree?”

“A Duel can be revoked,” Anliena explained, voice steady as rope.

“Auril can revoke another’s Duel, but every participant must agree.

And the one who first proposes revocation must pay a price.”

“Of course, I don’t want that path,” she continued, changing wind.

“I have other ways. For example, you surrender.

I’ll make Roen’s demand very simple, just a greeting.

We treat this as never having happened, smoke in rain.”

Anliena kept talking, a stream ignoring stones, and Rexi bristled.

She opened her mouth, but Lucimia stepped forward, shadow to her side.

“Why?” Lucimia asked, a clear bell.

All eyes shifted to her; she walked to Rexi’s side, heat under silk.

She was angry, so she dropped the gentle tone, showing edge.

“Why should I agree? Or trust you?

Isn’t this absurd? You targeted us first.

Now your Duel is losing, and you want it erased.

Do you think I’ll nod along?”

“You even want us to surrender. How do I know it’s not your trick?

If she surrenders, the reins fall into your hands.

Why hand you our fate? Do you take us for children?”

“If it’s the former, show your sincerity.

There’s no good fortune that costs nothing.

If it’s the latter, we won’t surrender.”

Lucimia laid it out plain, a blade on the table, and Anliena fell silent.

“Exactly,” Rexi chimed in, a pebble in a pond.

Anliena knew her plan was unrealistic; she lowered her head, thinking two beats.

“You’re right. I can pay a price. What do you need?

I know you’re a Time Ability User.

You came here for time ability, and so do I.

During our Duel, I’ll give you the right to set the Duel’s content. How about it?”

“You say you’ll give it, and it’s given?” Rexi shot back, cat with raised tail. “I don’t buy it.”

Lucimia thought for two heartbeats, moon behind cloud, then said, “I don’t need that.

I want something else.”

“Huh… you don’t?” Rexi froze, a sparrow mid-flight.

She’d only said that earlier to haggle, to milk more concessions.

She hadn’t expected Lucimia to refuse outright, a door shut.

“Really don’t want it? Setting the Duel’s content is a big edge,” Rexi whispered at Lucimia’s ear, a breeze in bamboo.

“Dummy,” Lucimia murmured back, smile like a hidden knife.

“Roen first challenged me to a Duel and asked me to set the content.

That means they have other holes to slip through, shadows under eaves.

This isn’t that big an edge.

And whoever sets the content must think more.

If it’s not tight, they’ll slide through the gap.”

“I see,” Rexi breathed, a reed learning wind.

Anliena didn’t catch their whispers, rain lost in noise. “Then what do you want?”

Lucimia looked at her and answered without pause, arrow leaving string. “I need you to grant me one Time Halt.”

Anliena blinked, a ripple across still water.

She thought: one Time Halt? Like Yael, shattering a Storage Ring with a specific method, to trigger the Time Halt inside?

It wasn’t impossible; even in Time Halt, she wouldn’t be affected, a fish in iced stream.

So she could agree.