The sun had barely risen above Arcadia's walls, casting golden light over the dew-kissed grass of the training grounds. Luca stood in the center, saber in hand, slicing through the still air with fluid motions. His breaths were steady, the rhythm of his aura syncing with each strike. It was a quiet, focused morning—just like any other.
Until he heard footsteps approaching.
He didn't need to look to guess. "Lilliane again," he murmured under his breath with a faint smile. "She's persistent."
But as he turned, his smile faltered.
His body stiffened. His hand froze mid-motion. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and blinked again.
"…Did I get colorblind or something?" he muttered.
"Why does pink look like white all of a sudden…?"
It wasn't Lilliane.
It was Selena.
She approached in her usual calm, composed steps, dressed in her pristine white training uniform. The contrast to Lilliane's pink was stark—and for some reason, it only made Luca more nervous.
