And yet—it had happened.
He had done it.
Lucavion, without hesitation, without ceremony, had stepped in and shouldered the consequence of something she couldn't fight. And not with spectacle—but with ease. With control. As if none of it rattled him. As if Thalor's oppressive, suffocating mana was merely dust brushed from a shoulder.
And then…
He winked.
Back then, right after it all diffused—when her lungs were still burning and her spine was still trembling beneath her gown—he winked. Not smug. Not flippant. Just that glimmer of mischief curling behind his lashes, like he already knew how the next few beats of the world would unfold and simply let her in on the joke.
'You arrogant… impossible man…'
She had hated him for it. For making her heart skip when it should've clenched. For flashing charm where silence should've followed. For being confident in a moment where she had nearly shattered.
But now?
