Chapter 49 - The Night is Not over yet

"Hmm... Are you sure you don’t want anything else?" I asked, studying him carefully.

Luca, still standing at the edge of the stone path just outside the restaurant, gave a small nod.

"Yes, I am."

I stared at him for a moment longer, waiting for a joke, a smirk, something unserious.

But no. His eyes were steady.

"...Alright then," I murmured, arms folding gently.

He offered a casual wave—awkward, as always—and thanked me softly.

Then he turned and walked off, hands in his pockets, the moonlight casting faint silver over his violet hair.

I watched him go, silent.

The click of his boots against stone slowly faded, swallowed by the hush of the noble quarter.

That request... why?

Of all things he could have asked for—status, favors, information, power—he chose that?

I frowned, arms tightening.

It didn’t sit wrong. It just... surprised me.

Why something like that? What is he really thinking?

And then—

A jolt of realization struck through me like cold water down my spine.

"Ahh—!"

I smacked my own forehead lightly with a sigh.

"The most important thing I wanted to ask..." I muttered under my breath.

"I forgot about it completely."

My mind drifted back—

To the dungeon. To those heavy moments beneath the collapsing ceiling.

To the way everyone turned their backs on me.

And the one person who didn’t.

I bit my lower lip.

Why...?

Why did you trust me, Luca Valentina?

****

The night air was crisp. The stars glittered faintly above, flickering past the tops of the Academy’s tallest towers as I walked back toward the dorms.

I hummed under my breath, for once not caring who heard.

The cold breeze brushed against my collar, the formal blazer slightly loosened now that the tense dinner was over. But my mood?

Surprisingly light.

That went... better than expected.

The awkwardness, the food, the weird gratitude offer—sure. But I could still feel the strange warmth in Seraphina’s voice. It wasn’t like her usual clipped tone. It felt real.

And she’d asked me what I wanted.

And this time—I knew exactly what to ask for.

I grinned to myself, hands in pockets.

And then—

I stopped.

There, just ahead, standing at the edge of the path near the small, moonlit fountain... was a girl.

Violet hair.

Loose, windswept.

The same girl I’d seen once before.

By the lake.

My eyes widened slightly.

What...?

She turned toward me slowly, as if she already knew I was there.

Luca approached the girl slowly, the soft lamplight casting a glow over the courtyard stones. Her violet hair shimmered faintly under the moon, and when she looked at him, her eyes sparkled with mirth.

She tilted her head and giggled.

"Hmm, you look happier than last time we met."

Luca smiled. A genuine one—simple and content.

"Indeed I am happy, today."

The girl’s eyes lit up, like a child who’d been given sweets.

"What happened, what happened, tell me?"

Her voice danced with eagerness, her feet shifting as if barely able to contain the weight of her curiosity.

Luca chuckled.

"Well... something that I was worried about for a long time just got resolved now. So I’m happy."

The girl calmed, nodding with satisfaction.

"Hmm. Indeed. That’s good. You should always be happy."

He gave her a sidelong glance and laughed softly.

"How is that possible? How can anyone always be happy?"

She raised her chin with playful certainty.

"Why not? If you’re unhappy about something... just tell me. I’ll fix it."

Luca blinked. The confidence in her voice—so innocent, so matter-of-fact—caught him off guard.

Then he chuckled again and gently patted her on the head.

"Then I’ll do that."

Her eyes twitched at the head pat but didn’t pull away. A faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

And then—

Grrggglll.

A sound betrayed him—low, unmistakable, and coming straight from his stomach.

She raised an eyebrow.

"You must be hungry. You didn’t have dinner?"

Luca rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Well... something happened."

He turned to her, thoughtful.

"Did you have dinner? If not, then let me treat you to something."

Just for a second—barely a flicker—her expression dimmed. Like a light behind her eyes dimmed for half a heartbeat.

But then it came back, bright and warm.

"I’m not hungry. Go fast and eat. It’s not good to stay hungry."

He narrowed his eyes at her, just a little, sensing the lie—but didn’t press.

Instead, he gave her a mock salute.

"Alright then. I’ll go before my stomach starts a rebellion."

The girl giggled softly again.

Luca took a few steps away, then paused and glanced back.

But she was already walking in the opposite direction, humming something soft to herself.

Still smiling.

Luca stepped past the academy gates, the quiet hum of enchantments fading behind him as the city lights of Arcadia shimmered ahead.

He sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"My appetite’s gone..." he muttered. "But... today wasn’t bad."

The corners of his lips curled faintly.

An unexpected favor from Seraphina.

A strange, tension-filled dinner that somehow didn’t implode.

And now, as if fate was layering surprises, that violet-haired girl again.

He shook his head, amused.

"Really is something else, that girl."

He blinked, pausing mid-step.

"...Wait. I didn’t even ask her name."

He facepalmed lightly. "Damn it. Next time. Next time I’ll definitely ask."

Still, the thought of her made the air feel a little lighter.

"Last time, she was so mature. Pulled me out of a dark headspace without even trying."

He smiled.

"And today? Childish, clingy, curious. But it didn’t feel fake. It felt... good."

He stopped for a moment, gazing up at the Arcadian sky.

Then something caught his eye.

A wooden sign hanging just ahead, swaying gently in the evening breeze.

The Laughing Wyvern

A tavern—one of the older, more discreet ones on the edge of the noble district. Light spilled from the windows in amber warmth. Faint music floated from within, joined by the low hum of conversation and clinking mugs.

Luca raised a brow.

"A tavern, huh?"

He stepped closer, inspecting it like some relic from another life.

"To think... I haven’t had a drink since coming to this world."

He gave a low chuckle.

"Well, technically, I’m underage here. But in my old life..."

His voice trailed off as memories surfaced—quiet evenings alone, a glass in hand, the buzz of something bitter and burning to keep him company.

Not exactly joy.

But familiarity.

"Call it the life of a loner."

He stared at the tavern door.

And then smiled.

"Well. Today, I’m happy."

"Why not go in and take a look?"

With that, Luca stepped forward, placing a hand on the weathered oak handle and pushing the tavern door open.

A wave of warmth and soft laughter greeted him.

"Let’s have something to drink."

The moment Luca stepped into the tavern, the scent hit him.

Sharp. Bitter. Burnt.

The air was dense with the weight of long nights—of laughter, of loss, of old memories drowning in cheap liquor. Wooden beams lined the ceiling, blackened from age and smoke. Firelight from wall sconces flickered low and warm, dancing against stone and wood like reluctant comfort.

It wasn’t just a place to drink.

It was a place to feel.

To be alone with your thoughts, or to drown them.

People filled the room, but it didn’t feel loud.

At one corner, a group of older adventurers sat quietly, passing a bottle between them—shoulders bruised, armor scuffed, too tired to talk but too restless to go home.

Near the back, two friends leaned close, whispering about someone they’d lost—one trying not to cry, the other pretending not to hear it.

A young man laughed too loudly near the bar. But it was the kind of laugh that came from someone who didn’t know what else to do with the silence inside them.

And amidst all of it... were the quiet ones.

Alone.

Just like Luca used to be.

Luca’s eyes flicked across the room, scanning for an empty seat.

That’s when he saw her.

A plain-looking girl. Brown hair tied back in a lazy knot, cheap clothes slightly worn at the edges, sleeves rolled to her elbows. She sat at a small corner table, alone, both hands wrapped around a steaming cup of something warm.

Ordinary. The kind of face you forget.

If you aren’t paying attention.

But Luca wasn’t looking at her. Not really.

He was eyeing the empty seat at the table next to her.

Without a second thought, he moved over and sat down, the worn wooden chair creaking beneath him.

A young tavern worker came over, apron stained with ale. "What’ll it be, sir?"

"Beer," Luca replied, loosening his collar slightly. "Cold."

The staff member nodded and vanished into the bustle.

Only then did Luca notice...

The stares.

Half the room had their eyes on him. Or at least, on the blazer. The noble cut. The polished boots. The formal black-and-white palette that screamed he doesn’t belong here.

Right.

Note to self: don’t wear court-dinner attire into a commoner’s bar.

He cleared his throat awkwardly and looked down. His beer arrived moments later in a thick glass mug, foam tumbling down the side like golden clouds.

He took a sip.

And sighed.

The cold bitterness spread down his throat like a memory.

Sharp. Burnt. Familiar.

One sip became two. Then three. Then four.

He ordered another. Then a third.

The awkwardness... was long gone.

And that’s when he heard it.

A scraping of a chair. A gruff laugh. Then a burly man grabbing the hand of the girl on the table beside him—

"Hey girl, you look so poor, why don’t you accompany me tonight? I’ll give you more money than you’ve ever seen in your life."