The festival square was overflowing. There wasn't even space to breathe near the massive stage set up under the open sky. Purple velvet curtains framed the scene, golden banners shimmered, and flame dragons drawn with magic scorched the night above. Every note of the music carried a touch of grandeur.
"What is this supposed to be?"
I wasn't looking at the dragon—I was looking at Lucian.
Without even turning his head, he muttered with a side glance,
"King Althar's public relations theater."
The show had begun.
The actors were nearly deifying the king. Every line was interrupted by applause, past wars were exaggerated threefold. One scene showed King Althar mowing down fifty soldiers by himself. In another, he split the sky in half while battling a dragon. The lights, the battle cries, the music—it was all too much.
I watched with a frown.
"Was it really like this?"
Lucian didn't respond.
But the corner of his lips curved ever so slightly as he looked at the stage.
He knew everything—but didn't think it worth explaining.
When one actor shouted, "The blessed heir of the crown—Cassian!" my stomach twisted.
Cassian.
The lights turned him into a god, but I… I remembered another face.
Lucian glanced briefly at the pendant around his neck. Coincidence? Maybe.
But I didn't want to read into it. I looked away.
—
After the play, the streets still buzzed with joy.
The music had changed tone, the crowd hadn't dispersed—only spread wider. Lanterns hung overhead, and people spilled into street-side tables.
"Let's stay here," Lucian said, pointing lightly toward a small bar near the edge of the festival.
The bar's tables were wooden, the chairs wobbly.
Lanterns hung low above us, almost as if they were stars.
At some tables, couples whispered. Others laughed and danced without rhythm.
Lucian and I sat at a table. I felt a bit awkward at first, but the joy in the air was infectious.
A cheerful waiter came over:
"Our festival special—spiced liquor, onion rings, and bad flirting. All in one."
Lucian gave a nod. "Bring it."
"I—I didn't want to drink," I muttered, frowning.
"Just take one sip. Maybe it'll lift your spirits."
And… it did.
The staff were singing, someone tripped while dancing.
The table next to us erupted in laughter and tapped their drinks to the rhythm.
The liquor was warm and cinnamon-rich. By the second glass… things got fuzzy.
"If you take it with the drink, the flirting hurts less!" said a server, referencing their joke.
Someone at the next table slammed his hand down. "Write that down!"
Lucian rolled his eyes, but there was a curve at the corner of his mouth.
He was trying not to laugh.
Me?
I was already laughing.
I joked with the servers.
A guy at the next table said,
"If we clink glasses seven times tonight, does that mean we're married?"
I grinned. "What you need isn't a glass—it's patience."
More laughter broke out.
Lucian… was still quiet. But his eyes were on me.
Even when we didn't make eye contact, I felt them.
I leaned closer to him, my face near his ear.
I whispered,
"That couple in the corner… he's stepped on her foot three times."
Lucian's lip twitched.
"If I were a mage… I'd shrink his shoes right now."
He slowly turned to me.
Our eyes met.
And… our faces were very, very close.
I held my breath.
"You can't kiss me every time I get drunk, Lucian…"
The words hung in the air.
Lucian paused.
Then smiled.
That classic Lucian smile—sarcastic but genuine, calm but intense.
He took a sip from his glass.
I, on the other hand, pressed a hand over my racing heart and leaned back with a smile.
This night… it was real.
No missions. Just us.
—
We left the bar. But didn't return to the tower.
Lucian and I quietly walked away from the festival.
The lights behind us faded. Only the moon remained.
We found a riverbank.
The night was cool, but my chest was still warm.
Was it the drink, or Lucian… I didn't know.
We sat on a bench.
Lucian was silent.
As always.
But I couldn't stay quiet.
I looked at him—and stayed.
Because he was beautiful.
His loose pale blonde hair fell over his shoulders, glowing gold in the moonlight. The collar of his robe was slightly open, revealing the dark shirt underneath that hugged his shoulders perfectly. His fingers still held the glass with graceful elegance.
His face… was both soft and sharp.
His eyes turned to me—calm, observant, hiding something I still couldn't name.
"Your hair…" I whispered.
Lucian raised an eyebrow. "My hair?"
"There's always that one strand falling near your eye."
I reached out and brushed it away.
And… didn't pull back.
My fingers wandered through his hair.
It was soft. Cool. But warm beneath the surface.
Lucian didn't move.
He just watched.
"What are you doing?"
His voice was both warning and curious. But not distant.
"I don't know. But… it feels nice."
Lucian dipped his head slightly. Let out a small chuckle.
"Didn't expect this kind of attention from a drunk girl," he said. "At the very least… I was hoping for something else."
I smiled.
"So was I. But right now… your hair comes first."
Lucian looked away.
But I… kept looking at him.
And I noticed.
His robe didn't fully hide it—his shirt subtly outlined the muscles beneath.
As he moved, the fabric stretched across his arms.
A bit too much muscle for a mage, isn't it?
This… wasn't just magic. This was weightlifting.
I suddenly imagined him secretly lifting after spell practice—
and laughed.
"What's so funny?" Lucian asked.
"Do you… lift weights?"
Lucian's brows lifted.
Then he smirked.
"I didn't know you were so interested in my body, Elysia."
"I'm not! I just… noticed."
My face was on fire.
"If I surprised you… then I'm glad," he said teasingly.
"If you want, you can join me one day. Personal training."
I covered my stomach to hold in a laugh.
"A mage with abs. That's illegal."
Lucian took another calm sip.
"I have them."
He said it so seriously that I laughed again.
But beneath that laughter… was a strange warmth.
He was watching me.
Not just my face—my hands, lips, eyes… everything.
I slowly leaned my head onto his shoulder.
He didn't move away.
He just… stayed there.
And I closed my eyes against the solid warmth of his frame.
"If I fall asleep… don't leave me," I whispered.
Lucian didn't answer.
But his silence… said more than words.
And that night…
by the river, under the moonlight…
I fell asleep on Lucian's shoulder.