Reina materialized in her room in a quiet ripple of mana, the familiar air settling around her shoulders like a cool cloak. The lamps had not been lit, leaving the room submerged in darkness. Shadows draped over the furniture, pooling in corners, softening every edge. Reina did not bother summoning a light; she knew every line and contour of this space by memory alone. After the long, chaotic evening with Miri, she had expected the stillness of solitude to greet her.

But the silence was wrong.

It was too thick, too uneven—disturbed in a way silence never was when she was alone.

She didn’t need to draw in mana or sharpen her senses.

The intruder had been sloppy. Painfully sloppy.

Someone was breathing too loudly, the faint hitch in their chest betraying drunken lungs.

Someone was shifting their weight—poorly—each movement causing the wooden frame beside them to creak with strain.

Someone had forgotten that shadows only hide those who know how to stand still.

Reina exhaled slowly through her nose.

Of all nights...

Her eyes glided toward the bed, and there he stood.

Davian—future Grand Duke, heir to one of the most powerful houses in the empire—looked nothing like the noble he was meant to be. His usually regal violet eyes were glassy, unfocused, and shimmering like liquid. His face was flushed a shade too bright to be natural, his hair rumpled from travel—and likely from running his fingers through it in drunken agitation. His clothes were wrinkled from teleportation, and he clung to the bedpost like a sailor to a mast, barely upright.

He blinked at her, his eyes widening with pure, uninhibited joy.

"Master!" he announced, beaming as if her appearance was a miracle.

Then his smile wavered.

He squinted at her as if her outline was drifting out of place, rubbed his eyes with both hands, and leaned forward with exaggerated focus.

"Miss Reina!" he corrected, giggling as though he had uncovered some grand truth. His body swayed dangerously, as if gravity itself had become unreliable.

Reina narrowed her eyes, letting the silence coil around them.

She didn’t need a flicker of moonlight to read him. The alcohol clung to him in waves—rich, heavy, and utterly unmistakable. His aura, usually steady and noble, pulsed unevenly, frayed at the edges.

He was drunk.

Very drunk.

And he had teleported straight into her room.

Of course.

Davian brightened the moment their eyes met, as if her mere presence steadied the room for him.

"Master!" he repeated, almost proudly this time—then promptly lost his balance. His shoulder dipped, his grip slipped on the bedpost, and he lurched forward like he fully intended to collapse into her arms.

Reina raised one hand lazily. A thin strand of telekinesis wrapped around him, invisible but firm, holding him upright before he could crash into her. Davian froze mid-fall, blinking in wonder.

His mouth formed a small, startled "o."

Reina guided him backward until he was standing straight again, though he continued to wobble like a reed in the wind. She studied him with a flat stare that, on anyone else, might have been a warning. On Reina, it was more like a silent question:

Why are you here? And why like this?

Davian didn’t seem to notice the judgment at all. His smile returned—lopsided, silly, and incredibly sincere.

"You have invisible guards, Miss Reina?" he asked in a hushed voice, as if he were sharing some dark conspiracy. "Someone caught me! I was... I was going to greet you properly but then I just—whoosh!" He swayed sideways, nearly toppling again.

Reina let out a long breath.

Not annoyed. Not surprised.

Just resigned.

She strode past him without a word, heading for the small cabinet near her desk where she kept a pitcher of water. The sound of her movements made Davian twist his head to follow her, fascinated by each step as though she were doing something extraordinary.

"You’re completely wasted," Reina said, her voice cool as she poured water into a glass. She returned to him and placed it in his hands.

He stared at the glass for a whole second, as if puzzled by its existence.

"I only drank a little..." he muttered.

The smell of alcohol radiating from him said otherwise.

Reina tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. "Let me guess. You were at Count Erkens’s mansion."

Davian took a sip of water, paused mid-swallow, and stared up at her with wide, betrayed eyes.

"How did you know?"

Reina blinked—too naturally, too Ocean-like. It was the kind of blink she used with him when she didn’t want to reveal her thought process. For a heartbeat she almost forgot she was Reina, not Ocean.

"Just a wild guess," she said smoothly, crossing her arms.

Davian nodded slowly, satisfied with the answer.

Reina was not.

She stepped closer, her presence becoming a little sharper, a little more controlled. "It is highly improper for you to appear in a lady’s room at this hour, Your Highness. What if someone sees you like this? And how did you even get in?"

Davian straightened slightly, as though attempting dignity.

"I... teleported," he announced, with the confidence of a man who thought this was an excellent explanation.

Reina closed her eyes for two seconds, steadying her patience.

Of course he had.

When she opened them again, Davian was staring up at her with a delighted, almost dreamy smile.

"I thought you would be scared," he confessed. "Or mad. Or shout at me. But you’re... you’re very composed." He giggled again. "Just like Master."

Reina inhaled to keep from sighing too loudly.

Of course he would say that.

Drunk Davian let truths slip out carelessly.

"Well, of course," she muttered under her breath. "You’ve caught a habit of appearing in people’s rooms at night."

He blinked up at her, still smiling faintly. The way he looked at her made something inside her twist—his eyes were so open, so unguarded. He didn’t even try to mask how deeply he cared, not in this state.

"Why are you here, Your Highness?" Reina asked, her tone firm but not unkind. She moved to lean against the arm of the opposite chair, arms crossed as she studied him.

Davian’s smile faded a little. His gaze dropped to the rim of the glass in his hand. He stared at it for a long moment, as if the right words were hidden somewhere inside the water.

"I came here because I wanted to..." His brows furrowed. He searched for the rest of the sentence. "...tell you something important."

Reina exhaled softly and leaned her elbow on the chair’s armrest, supporting her head with her fingers.

Of course he did.

Of course he chose this night, in this state.

She waited.

Davian swallowed visibly. His fingers tightened around the glass. He lifted his eyes—those violet irises shimmering, unfocused, yet softened by sincerity.

"I’m... sorry for coming here like this," he murmured. "I know it’s rude. And—and not proper. But I was just..." He looked down again, embarrassed, shame washing over his features. "I was worried."

Reina’s expression didn’t change, but something in her chest shifted.

Davian continued quietly, "Because... you weren’t... you weren’t at the Trial today."

Ah.

So that was it.

Reina’s posture straightened a little, but her voice remained calm. "I was at the Oasis office. If everyone is working, someone needs to manage the workload as well."

Davian looked up at her, hopeful, cautious—as though he needed her to validate that excuse for him to stop feeling guilty.

Reina’s eyes softened, just a fraction.

This was the exact expression he made whenever he apologized to Ocean.

Whether voluntarily or unknowingly, Davian always exposed his heart completely around Ocean.

And now... even standing before Reina, the pattern repeated itself.

"Is that so?" he asked, a relieved smile blooming as though she’d just lifted a weight off him.

Reina looked away.

She shouldn’t have.

His relief made something tighten unbearably inside her—an ache she couldn’t quite name.

She turned her gaze back to him sharply. "You only came all the way here, in this state, to ask me that?"

Davian laughed weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. "It’s silly, isn’t it? I was just... worried. About you. And then I..." He trailed off, eyes unfocusing slightly. "Master is probably mad at me again... no, he’s definitely mad at me."

Reina narrowed her eyes. "Why is it this time?"

Davian sagged in the chair, a sigh dragging out of him. "I told him something that offended him."

"Did he tell you he was mad at you?"

He shook his head quickly. "No... I just know he is."

"How?"

Davian hesitated. For the first time tonight, he looked genuinely lost.

His voice dropped.

"I... told him that I was... in love with someone."

Reina closed her eyes for a slow, steadying moment.

Hopeless.

He was hopeless in the matters of his heart.

So utterly, painfully confused. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

"Tell me something," she said quietly, lowering her voice.

Davian lifted his head, focusing on her as best he could.

"Did Master get mad at you because you told him you love someone... or because you, yourself, can’t make sense of your own feelings?"

Davian blinked. Once. Twice.

Her words sank in slowly, like ink drops spreading through water.

Then he whispered, "Maybe... it’s the latter."

Reina nodded. "Then you should fix that first, Your Highness. And if you don’t want Master angry with you, you must also stop these night adventures."

"What nightly adventures?" he asked, genuinely confused, blinking with the innocence of a child who had never committed a wrongdoing in his life.

Reina had to look away for a moment, because laughing was dangerously close when she looked back at him.

Reina leaned forward slightly, voice low. "Entering people’s rooms at night like this."

Davian’s entire face turned red.

"Return home, Your Highness," she said softly.

And before she could stop herself, her hand rose—gentle, instinctive—and rested atop his head, ruffling his soft hair. Davian’s breath hitched, his eyes growing dazed and wide as he stared into her ringed ones with slit pupils.

"Yes, Master..." he exhaled, voice barely a whisper.

Then his eyes fluttered shut.

And instead of teleporting—

He fell asleep. Right there.

Reina stared at him for three seconds.

Then shook her head as she lightly ran her hand over her face.

"...Fool," she muttered.

But the small chuckle that escaped her betrayed the truth: He was impossible to stay mad at.