Reno led Hedi into an elegant restaurant, its decor like a polished shell that promised quiet richness.

The ceiling hung low and wide like a warm grotto; diners sat sparse and hushed, their voices flowing with the soft music like small streams meeting a lake.

Tall oak sideboards stood sentry on both sides of the aisle, their carvings a maze of mechanical vines and gears.

Inside, sleek shelves cut like riverlines displayed porcelain, pottery, and glass that glimmered like frost.

At dusk, the sun poured through the open windows like molten copper, reddening every corner and turning the floor’s hard patterns soft as velvet.

“This place tastes great,” Reno said, pulling out a high-backed chair like he drew up a shield, inviting Hedi to sit.

He spoke with a smile like lamplight. “I’ve wanted to bring you here for ages.”

Hedi felt the cushion’s tender give like moss under hand and shrank a little, the whole space smelling of money like a gilt fog.

She flipped the menu; the prices stared back like glassy fish, and she had the odd illusion they were almost acceptable, a trick of ambience and quick service weaving a single, sweet net.

If you came only for the setting and service, she thought, you’d soon be paying with loans like stones tied to your feet.

“The invite itself already—” Reno saw her stare and hesitated, his words fluttering like moths. “Let me pay for this one.”

“It’s fine,” she said, her voice a bell struck softly.

“It’s just returning a favor,” he said, gentle as rain. “Don’t force yourself.”

Hedi closed the menu and measured Reno like a compass draws a clean arc. “So you planned to treat me from the start.”

“Uh... I... only... because the food... is good...” His voice broke like thin ice.

“Looking forward to it,” she said, her tone a small ember.

Reno ducked his head with a shy tilt, sipping water in little moons, rubbing his nape like smoothing wrinkled silk.

“But don’t get it wrong,” Hedi said, steady as a plumb line. “This meal’s on me.”

“You don’t like others spending on you?” His question hovered like a kite in low wind.

“Keep the intention,” she said, kind as a shawl. “Save it for next time.”

“So that means—” Reno’s eyes widened like coins catching light. “I can invite you again?”

“If you don’t mind me bringing Selina,” she said, the name landing like a feather.

Reno shook his head and shifted in his chair like a cat finding a new curl. “If you want to eat, come find me.”

“Mm... future things can wait,” she said, her words drifting like smoke.

“We could throw a victory party,” he said, the thought rising like a banner.

Hedi pressed her lips and let silence pool like ink. “Whose party?”

“The Academy’s,” he said, the word solid as stone.

“Today’s?” Her tone flicked like a sparrow’s wing.

“We solved a big crisis,” Reno said, straightening his lapels like a soldier setting his collar. “If you hadn’t come, the Academy would’ve been in real trouble.”

“I just overslept,” she said, a wry ripple. “Should’ve pulled an all-nighter.”

“You wheeze after a jog,” he said, a hand raised like a stop-sign. “Don’t do that.”

Hedi propped her chin with her elbow like a painter setting a frame. “When would you hold it?”

“Next weekend,” he said, the plan crisp as paper. “Does that clash with your schedule?”

“I plan day by day,” she said, her calendar a tide.

“Let’s book this place,” he said, tapping the idea like a drum. “If something comes up, it’s fine—you can drop by anytime.”

“I’ll come with Selina,” she said, the promise steady as a knot.

“If she... doesn’t want to come...” His words trailed like a loose thread.

“Then I’ll keep her company at home,” she said, warm as a hearth.

Reno sipped and studied Hedi’s delicate face like reading tiny print through dusk. “Do you two live together?”

“For a while now,” she said, time stacking like bricks.

“You even arranged work for her,” he said, surprise flickering like a match.

“I do need a teaching assistant,” she said, the role fitting like a glove.

The waiter set down the dishes and lifted the silver covers; aroma rose like silk steam and filled the room, tugging at Hedi’s hunger like a string.

Under golden lights, the food blazed with bright colors, fruits and greens set with painterly balance like a gallery piece.

Hedi thanked the waiter in a voice like soft wind, scooped a white soup dusted with herb ash like gray snow, and tasted it; delight bloomed like a flower. “So much better than what I’ve had before.”

“Top-tier chefs,” Reno said, the praise neat as a stamp.

“Makes me... almost reluctant to finish,” she said, holding the spoon like a small moon.

Reno’s smile warmed like a hearth, and his steel fork tapped the silver plate with cold glints like stars. “Is Viola always clinging to you?” he asked, absent-minded as drifting leaves. “From where I stand, you’re always together.”

“It makes assistant work easier,” she said, the explanation straight as a path.

“Just work?” he asked, a pebble tossed.

“What do you want to know?” she said, her gaze a calm lake.

“Letting her into the Academy, and letting me do a trial—was all that just for work?” His doubt curled like smoke.

Hedi narrowed her eyes and held silence like a sealed jar, then spoke with a touch of nostalgia like dusk on old stone. “That was long ago.”

“Not even a month,” he said, time pricking like a thorn.

“Mm,” she said, the sound soft as cotton.

“Hedi...” Reno let the pause stretch like a hanging bridge. “Melvina...”

Hedi watched him quietly, her gaze steady as a lantern. He’d almost called her by name, like stepping over a threshold.

“I wanted to try saying your full name,” he said, breath hitching like a sparrow. “I’ve always used your family name... Melvina... Melvina’s...”

“Mm,” she said, assent small as a nod.

“Where were we?” he asked, turning like a compass.

“Selina,” she said, the topic set like a pin.

“During the sword trial,” he said, memory flashing like steel, “I wanted to ask—what are you two?”

“She’s my husband,” Hedi said with a shrug like a curtain lifted, breaking the secret like light through lace.

“When? You’re already married?” His voice stumbled like loose stones.

“Not yet,” she said, clear as glass, “but once we marry, she’ll take the husband’s role.”

Reno wiped at his forehead where no sweat shone, a movement stiff as cardboard. “Didn’t expect... so soon... marriage...” His words fell like slow rain.

“Claire, you’re a very, very good person,” she said, kindness bright as morning.

“Everybody says that,” he said, the line worn like a path.

“You’ll find your other half,” she said, hope offered like a cup.

“But the one I like—” he began, feeling tugged like a net.

“Eat,” Hedi said with a smile like dawn, nudging the mood like a breeze. “Still not used to a girl picking up the check?”

Reno took the cue and nodded, the gesture crisp as a bow. “Very un-gentlemanly of me.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, teasing like a cat’s paw. “The victory party will bleed you dry.”

“I’ve only ever wanted to invite one person,” he said, gaze steady as a beam, “and it’s you.”

“I worked hard to steer us away,” she said, voice a gentle knife. “Do you really want me to refuse you to your face?”

“The moment you told me about you and Viola,” he said, words landing like stones, “that was refusal.”

Hedi leaned on her hand and spoke as brightly as she could, her tone like sunlight on water. “You’re handsome and noble; the girls chasing you could line up to the Empire’s borders.”

“But I... can’t catch the one I like...” His admission floated like a lost kite.

“Consider it a setback aimed squarely at the nobility,” she said, humor sharp as citrus.

“Don’t tease me,” he said, a plea soft as string.

“It’s not your fault,” Hedi said, truth clear as air. “I don’t feel anything for men.”

She spoke earnestly, words clean as snow. “Growing up in the Sacred Cathedral, I was taught to keep my distance from love.”

“And yet you... and Viola...” he said, confusion curling like fern.

“The word romance sounds like a bond between a man and a woman,” she said, tone even as a line. “But with so many girls in the Sacred Cathedral, walking a different path is only natural.”

“If you hadn’t had those experiences, would you have agreed?” he asked, hope thin as thread.

Hedi thought a moment, her silence like a coin turned in hand. “Honestly, we wouldn’t have even met.”

“Right... those experiences... made you a Professor of Magic,” he said, respect glinting like metal.

“Claire, like I said,” she said, warmth steady as coals, “you couldn’t be a better person.”

Reno nodded and ate in small bites, each one neat as stitches.

Hedi rose, settled the bill like placing a seal, then looked back; Reno waved like a flag in light wind, as if to say, it’s fine to leave first.

She drew her camel coat tight like wrapping herself in sand-warm cloth, pushed the door open like parting a curtain, and vanished into the afterglow like a swallow into the sunset.