Ronóva's dressing room was quiet.
White walls.
Gold filigree lines etched with deliberate symmetry.
A white–gold vanity stood before her.
Its mirror flawless.
Unforgiving.
Ronóva sat in front of it.
Her hair was tied high into a ponytail, smooth and restrained.
An oversized white T-shirt hung loosely from her shoulders.
Nothing ornamental.
Nothing indulgent.
She leaned closer to the mirror.
Careful.
Exact.
Red lipstick traced her lips slowly, the color settling against their soft shape.
She pressed them together once, blotting the pigment evenly.
No excess.
No mistake.
A presence brushed the edge of her awareness.
Ronóva shifted slightly.
Her eyes slid sideways without turning her head.
"What are you doing here,"
she said calmly.
"You arrive whenever you want."
Anger sat beneath the words.
Controlled.
Contained.
Her gaze finally lifted—
narrowed.
Framed by long lashes.
Haruto stepped closer.
(She's definitely mad at me.)
He thought.
"I came to see you,"
Haruto said simply, stopping beside her.
Ronóva looked up at him from her seat.
"Do you not have work to attend to,"
she asked, voice level.
"You're mad at me, huh,"
Haruto said, looking down at her.
(Of course you ended our conversation like that. I wasn't finished.)
Ronóva thought.
Her head turned slightly away.
"I am not,"
she said softly.
The lie was clean.
Too clean.
Haruto noticed without effort.
He reached out gently, fingers lifting her chin and guiding her face back toward him.
"I won't cut our conversations short anymore, Ronóva,"
he said calmly.
"There was something I had to address."
She listened.
Her usual distant calm remained intact—
eyes steady, luminous.
Resolve layered with something quieter beneath it.
They held each other's gaze.
Haruto's fingers stayed under her chin.
Ronóva didn't move to remove them.
"Promise,"
Ronóva said.
"I promise,"
Haruto replied.
Her eyes softened—
just briefly.
"Are you going to remove your hand now,"
Ronóva asked.
Haruto's eyes narrowed slightly as a faint smile touched his lips.
"Give me a second,"
he said.
"Tell me—are you wearing lipstick?"
Ronóva's eyes widened just a fraction.
"I'm preparing for tonight,"
she said, confusion threading her tone.
"Who are you seducing,"
Haruto asked, not quite finished speaking.
(You, of course.)
Ronóva thought.
"If it's me, that's unnecessary,"
Haruto said softly, withdrawing his hand.
Ronóva turned back to the mirror.
Her gaze lowered to her folded hands resting in her lap.
"I'll remove it if that's what you want,"
she said quietly.
"I didn't say that,"
Haruto replied.
"If you want to wear it, wear it."
He paused.
"I wouldn't see you any differently if you covered yourself in makeup or gold,"
he continued.
"My love for you is already complete."
Ronóva looked up sharply.
Haruto was looking down at her, smiling gently.
"Even if I had never seen your face,"
he said,
"I would have found you."
Ronóva smiled.
A small smile.
Rare.
Unseen by almost everyone.
"Okay,"
she said softly.
"Then help me remove it."
She stood.
The oversized T-shirt fell loosely along her body, the fabric tracing her curves and leaving little to the imagination.
Her posture was relaxed.
Unashamed.
She stepped closer—
into his space.
Haruto didn't pull back.
The signal was unspoken.
Clear.
He lifted a finger.
Gently wiped across her upper lip.
Then the lower.
The red smeared faintly.
Ronóva's cheeks warmed, color blooming beneath pale skin.
Haruto's finger paused at her chin, now stained crimson.
He lifted her face again slowly.
No rush.
He leaned in.
Tilted slightly.
Ronóva's eyes closed.
Their lips met.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Tongues brushed, then rolled together.
Breath mingled.
A faint sound escaped between them.
Haruto's hand slipped from her chin, settling at her narrow waist and pulling her closer.
The room stayed silent.
Only soft movement.
Only shared breath.
Haruto turned Ronóva back toward him.
No warning.
He guided her forward, bending her over the vanity table.
The surface rattled softly from the force.
The lipstick slipped from the edge—
hit the table.
The chair.
Then the floor.
It rolled once.
Stopped.
Ronóva caught herself with both hands, half-sprawled across the desk.
Her oversized T-shirt rode up, exposing black underwear stretched tightly across her hips.
She looked back over her shoulder.
Breath uneven.
Eyes sharp—yet unfocused.
Haruto stood behind her.
Close.
He ran a single finger down her spine.
Slow.
Intentional.
His body pressed lightly against her back.
When his finger reached the middle of her spine—
Ronóva shuddered.
A sharp breath escaped her lips before she could stop it.
She narrowed her eyes at him, cheeks flushed completely, composure cracking at the edges.
"S-stop teasing me,"
she said softly.
Her voice shook despite herself.
Arousal slickened her thighs, warmth trailing downward along long legs.
Haruto leaned in from behind.
His lips brushed her ear as he whispered.
"Are you asking me to continue,"
he asked quietly.
Ronóva's eyes closed.
She nodded.
"Yes,"
she said, barely audible.
"Do whatever you want."
She inhaled, steadying herself.
"I give my full consent."
Her eyes opened again—
glazed.
Intense.
Almost obsessive.
(That expression…)
Haruto thought.
(No man in his right mind could resist.)
—
A short time later—
Kuroko walked down a royal hallway.
Tall windows lined one side, framed in ornate gold.
Afternoon light poured through, casting amber and orange hues across the long crimson carpet trimmed in gold.
She walked calmly.
Hands at her sides.
A small smile tugged at her lips—
barely visible.
Contained.
She glanced out the window, eyes absorbing the sky and city below.
Pretty,
she thought.
She stopped.
Turned toward a set of doors.
(Sister's dressing room.)
(I'll check. Just in case.)
Kuroko reached out.
Pulled both doors open.
"Sis,"
she said quietly, voice soft but cheerful.
"I came to see if you need help."
Her words froze halfway through the air.
Her eyes widened slightly.
Ronóva stood beside the chair, posture stiff.
She leaned subtly to one side, tugging the back of her oversized T-shirt down as if it might hide anything.
"Huh… Kuroko,"
Ronóva said.
Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
(Bad timing.)
Ronóva thought.
(I didn't even clean myself properly…)
(And he released inside me—annoying.)
Her cheeks were completely red.
Kuroko tilted her head slightly.
Her gaze lingered.
"Your cheeks are red,"
she said quietly.
"Are you having trouble with something."
Ronóva straightened.
The faint tremor vanished from her posture as composure settled back into place.
"No,"
she replied calmly.
"I only struggled with my dress. I am fine now."
A small smile followed—
measured.
Almost convincing.
Kuroko's eyes widened a fraction.
"Oh… Mm. Then,"
she said softly, stepping back.
"Since everything is under control, I'll take my leave."
"Yes,"
Ronóva answered.
"You should prepare for tonight as well."
Kuroko nodded.
A faint smile appeared—brief, restrained—before she closed the door and continued down the hallway.
(…She's been strange.)
Kuroko thought as she walked.
(Not just today. The past two days.)
Suspicion settled quietly behind her eyes.
—
Ronóva exhaled once the door shut.
Slow.
Controlled.
Relief slipped through her shoulders.
Then—
she paused.
Her gaze swept the room.
The vanity.
The mirror.
The quiet.
No presence.
Her lips pressed together.
(He left… already.)
she thought.
A faint disappointment surfaced—
brief.
Contained.
Then—
A hand settled gently on her shoulder.
Ronóva stiffened.
She turned her head.
Then her body.
"I thought you had already left,"
she said, surprise slipping through.
Along with something lighter.
Haruto stepped forward as pale mist peeled away from him, dissolving into the air as his invisibility faded.
He smiled.
His head tilted slightly, hair slipping over one eye.
"Were you sad,"
he asked lightly,
"that I might have?"
Ronóva narrowed her eyes.
She turned away from him, back facing him now.
"As if,"
she said evenly.
"Anyway, I need to bathe. Again."
"Okay,"
Haruto replied simply.
No reaction.
Ronóva paused.
That wasn't what she expected.
She turned halfway back, arms crossing beneath her chest.
One finger lifted to her lower lip.
Her head tilted.
Her gaze never left him.
"Want to take a bath together,"
she asked softly.
Haruto's eyes widened a fraction.
His chest tightened—just once.
"…Sure,"
he answered before thinking.
Ronóva smiled.
Wide.
Brief.
Satisfied.
Then her arms dropped to her sides.
"Sorry,"
she said calmly.
"I prefer bathing alone."
Haruto blinked.
His mouth parted—then closed into a smile.
(I see.)
he thought.
(I'll play along.)
"Really,"
he asked mildly.
"Even for me."
Ronóva hesitated.
Just a beat.
"Yes,"
she answered.
"That applies to my boyfriend as well."
Haruto exhaled.
Not defeated—
accepting.
"Alright,"
he said.
"I'll leave then. I need to prepare too."
"You should,"
Ronóva replied.
She stepped closer.
Softly pressed her ear against his chest.
Listened.
Silence.
Her eyes lifted slowly, cheek still resting against him.
"…Where is your heart,"
she asked quietly.
Haruto didn't answer at once.
"I don't have one,"
he said at last.
His hand rose, resting behind her head.
"Why,"
Ronóva asked.
"I am a spiritual life-form,"
Haruto said calmly.
"Physical organs are unnecessary."
Her eyes widened—just slightly.
Not fear.
Recognition.
"I see,"
she murmured.
"So you reincarnated into a human."
She relaxed further against him.
"If I reincarnated a thousand times,"
Haruto said,
"I would still arrive as myself. Because I am what I am."
A pause.
"I did not reincarnate,"
he continued.
"I created this vessel to interact with the physical layer."
Ronóva stepped back.
Haruto's hand slipped from her head.
"That explains it,"
she said smoothly.
"A reincarnated spirit is still bound by physical law. A created vessel is not."
She met his gaze.
"You transcend biological limits."
Haruto smiled.
"You're right."
"Of course I am,"
Ronóva replied.
Her tone was calm.
Final.
"Then I should get going,"
Haruto said calmly.
Ronóva gave a small nod.
No hesitation.
No objection.
In the next instant—
Haruto vanished.
"Instant Teleportation" folded space inward, swallowing him whole.
—
Hours passed.
Twilight settled over the city.
Shops closed one by one.
Voices softened.
Lantern light bled into the streets as day surrendered to night.
—
Haruto stood before a tall mirror.
Still.
Centered.
His reflection showed his full form.
A black ceremonial coat draped his frame, gold-trimmed lines tracing disciplined geometry across indigo sigil panels. Slim trousers sharpened the silhouette, while turquoise gemstones caught the fading light. Fine shoulder chains rested with cold elegance. Trailing ribbons and a half-cloak moved faintly, as if responding to his presence rather than air.
Behind him—
Soft hand claps echoed.
"The outfit looks perfect on you, my Lord,"
Tsukasa said, smiling.
Haruto turned halfway.
"It's because you chose it,"
he replied evenly.
Tsukasa shook her head gently.
"No,"
she said.
"You would look exceptional in anything."
Haruto smiled—
brief.
Unassuming.
The door opened.
Both their gazes shifted.
Liora stepped inside.
Her eyes went immediately to Tsukasa.
"Leave,"
Liora said coldly.
Tsukasa bowed.
Her eyes dimmed—not hurt, just accepting.
She slipped out without a word.
The door closed softly.
Too softly.
The air thickened.
Haruto didn't look away from Liora.
"You dismissed her without consulting me,"
he said.
No anger.
No raised tone.
Authority—stated, not enforced.
Liora stiffened.
Her chin stayed high.
"I wished to speak with you alone."
"Then you should have asked,"
Haruto replied calmly.
"Commanding my maid in my presence implies you believe you outrank her—or me."
Liora's eyes flickered.
Pride—
bruised.
"…You're right,"
she admitted.
Her voice softened, not humbled but restrained.
"I spoke before thinking."
Haruto nodded once.
Slow.
Deliberate.
"Do not repeat it."
Not punishment.
A line drawn.
"If you want time with me, ask."
A correction—
not a rejection.
Liora exhaled quietly.
"So,"
Haruto continued,
"what is the purpose of your visit."
"Oh—right,"
Liora said, regaining focus.
"I learned you're attending the Royal Party."
"Correct."
"Why didn't you tell me."
Haruto blinked.
Once.
"Because there was no reason to,"
he said.
"It's simply another event."
Liora froze.
Her hand rose to her forehead.
"You cannot be serious."
"Did I miss something,"
Haruto asked mildly.
Liora lowered her hand, eyes sharpening.
"Yes,"
she said firmly.
"The Royal Party is not 'another event.'"
She stepped closer.
"It's where the most powerful beings across the universe gather. All species. All authorities."
A pause.
"Even the True Dragons."
Haruto's eyes narrowed slightly.
Not concern—
interest.
"The Royal Party was established at the beginning of the universe,"
Liora continued.
She walked to the small table beneath the window and sat.
Haruto followed, taking the opposite seat.
The chair clicked softly beneath him.
"By the four True Dragons,"
Liora said, fingers curling into a fist atop the table.
Haruto tilted his head.
"What is its stated purpose."
Liora hesitated.
"I don't know,"
she admitted.
"It has only occurred five times since creation. The last was over a million years ago."
(She doesn't know.)
Haruto thought.
(Seraphina.)
You know, don't you.
『Naturally.』
Seraphina replied, composed.
Haruto smiled faintly.
Confidence—acknowledged.
He placed both hands on the table and stood.
"I should depart."
Liora looked up.
"Are you going alone."
"…Yes."
She stood immediately.
"No,"
she said sharply.
"You'll be facing entities that could reshape civilizations. Losing you would be catastrophic."
"I'll be fine."
Liora stared at him.
A hard, unyielding glare.
Haruto looked away—not intimidated, simply conceding.
"…Very well."
The tension eased.
"My schedule prevents me from accompanying you,"
Liora said.
"But I will send protection."
"Who."
"Tsukasa,"
Liora replied.
"And three others. Althea. Maki. Iris."
"I don't recognize those names."
"Of course you don't,"
Liora said dryly.
"Ninety-eight percent of your subordinates have never seen you."
"My schedule is full,"
Haruto replied calmly.
"I avoid unnecessary appearances."
Liora stared at him.
"…What."
"We handle most affairs,"
she said incredulously.
"How is your schedule full."
"I teach my students,"
Haruto said with a small smile.
"Then I train. I improve until the day ends."
Liora's jaw dropped.
"What—are you some kind of obsession-driven ascetic,"
she snapped.
"You're a king. Act like one."
Haruto's smile didn't fade.
It deepened—
just slightly.