The meadow by the Velvet Manor's lake should have been the definition of romantic tranquility.
Golden sunlight draped itself lazily across emerald grass. A faint breeze rippled the water's surface, carrying the scent of flowers and roasted nuts from distant vendors. Birds sang. Butterflies twirled.
And Rei was sweating bullets. Not just because the world was beautiful, but because the picnic blanket spread out beneath him hummed faintly like a bomb about to detonate.
He sat rigid, knees drawn together, spine so straight he could have balanced a wine glass on his head. Emilia sat beside him, nibbling on a cookie with the blissful innocence of a girl who believed picnics were safe.
They weren't. Of course not when Rosette was involved.
"Emilia," Rei whispered, voice trembling. "Don't… move too suddenly."
She blinked, crumbs dotting her lips. "Why?"
