The torchlight flickered along the corridor as Leonhardt walked ahead, his coat draped lazily over one shoulder, boots silent against the black stone. Erina followed a step behind—measured, restrained—but her heart pounded far louder than their steps.
The wall behind her had gone cool.
But Erina's skin still pulsed where his fingertips had lingered. She followed him in silence, not because she had to, but because her feet no longer listened to her doubts.
Every step beside him felt like walking through a fog of sensation.
The dungeon pulsed softly with ambient mana, its touchstones flickering hues of violet and blue. The light wasn't warm, but the presence beside her was.
Leonhardt walked a half-step ahead, his coat loose on his shoulders, the scales along his spine catching faint glimmers of light like onyx in motion. His tail moved with languid ease behind him, cutting shapes through the air. She tried not to stare.
She failed.
