"I-I will take a shower first..."

The words lingered faintly in Damon’s ears, dissolving slowly into the quiet as Damon lay sprawled across the bed, his body unmoving yet far from at rest, his eyes shut tight while his brows twitched intermittently, his fingers clutching the sheets beneath him as though anchoring himself against something unseen, while sweat gathered across his skin in a way that had nothing to do with physical exertion and everything to do with something far more unstable stirring beneath the surface.

The steady sound of water running from the shower filled the space, echoing softly through the room, yet to Damon it arrived distorted, stretched and distant, as though reaching him from somewhere far beyond the present moment, blending with fragments of something else that refused to fully form.

His head shifted restlessly from one side to the other, his lips parting slightly as a broken murmur escaped him, his voice low and strained.

"Y-yuna..."

His fingers tightened further against the sheets.

"N-no... I... I cannot die..."

The words came out fractured, uneven, as if dragged from somewhere deeper than conscious thought, and in the next instant his body tensed sharply, every muscle tightening at once before he suddenly jolted upright, a sharp breath tearing through him as his eyes snapped open, wide and unfocused for a brief moment as his chest heaved heavily, his vision struggling to catch up with reality.

The sound of water returned.

Clear. Steady. Real.

His gaze darted across the room, tension still coiled within him as his hand moved instinctively, reaching for the nearest object without thought as his fingers wrapped tightly around a flowerpot resting beside the bed, his body still reacting as though danger had not yet passed.

Then the water stopped.

A soft click followed as the bathroom door opened.

Zarhka stepped out, her presence grounding the space instantly as she looked toward him, her expression calm, unguarded, entirely unaware of the storm that had just passed through him.

Damon froze for a brief moment, his breathing still heavy, before a slow exhale left him as his grip loosened and the flowerpot slipped from his hand, settling back into place as awareness returned fully.

...Right.

I’m here with her.

His hand rose to his forehead, pressing against it as if trying to make sense of the lingering ache that pulsed faintly beneath his skin, his thoughts still unsettled as he tried to piece together what had just happened.

What... was that...?

His gaze shifted toward the window.

Darkness. Night had already fallen.

The realization hit instantly as his expression changed.

He stood up abruptly, urgency replacing confusion as he turned toward Zarhka.

"What time is it?" he asked, his voice steady but carrying an edge beneath it.

"Past dinner time," Zarhka replied without hesitation.

For a brief second, Damon stood still.

Then—

...Too late.

He moved immediately, grabbing his clothes and putting them on with quick, practiced motions, his thoughts racing ahead of him as a sharper concern cut through everything else.

Shit...

She must be waiting...

His jaw tightened.

What if the assassin comes while I’m not there...?

The thought alone was enough.

"I will go first," he said quickly, his tone clipped, urgency evident in every movement, "I’m late."

He did not wait for a response.

Did not look back.

The door opened.

And...

Closed.

Damon was already gone, his steps quick and purposeful as he moved towards the academy pathways under the night sky.

***

The night had settled fully over the city, its quiet corners deepening into shadows untouched by the bustle of the main streets, and in one such secluded alleyway, far from prying eyes, two hooded figures stood in silence, their presence blending into the darkness as though they had always belonged there.

One of them knelt.

His head lowered and posture tense.

"I-I apologize master.." he said, his voice carrying a mix of fear and urgency, "I wasn’t able to detect when Black Rose attacked me last time... and... thank you for the potion you left..."

The standing figure did not move.

A faint distortion surrounded them, subtle yet unmistakable, hinting at the presence of a voice modulation artifact as the figure finally spoke, their tone calm, controlled, and unreadable.

"He is a lot different from what the rumours suggested... and from what I had seen before," the figure said slowly, as if analyzing each word even while speaking it, "he is calm, thoughtful... and capable of manipulating situations with ease."

A brief pause followed.

"What have you found?"

The kneeling figure swallowed before answering, his voice steadier now, though still cautious.

"He is very discreet in everything he does," he said, "always aware of his surroundings... always checking if he is being followed..."

He hesitated slightly.

"But... last weekend, I saw him in the outer city... he was shopping with his maid...they seemed close.."

The standing figure’s head tilted slightly.

"...Close?" they asked.

The kneeling figure shifted uneasily.

"I-I mean..." he stammered, "...which noble holds the hand of their servant...?"

Silence lingered for a moment.

Then—

The standing figure spoke again, their tone quieter now, yet carrying a faint undercurrent of interest.

"Is that so..."

A pause.

"...I did not expect this from you... Damon Valecrest."

The name lingered in the air.

"Keep observing," the figure continued, their voice returning to its earlier calm authority, "and report to me."

The kneeling figure lowered his head further.

"Yes, Master."

***

Damon moved quickly through the academy grounds and into the dormitory building, his steps hurried as he climbed the stairs, the urgency in his mind refusing to settle even as he reached his floor, his hand pushing open the door to his room without pause.

And then—

He stopped.

Sahira was still there ,standing in the room waiting.

The moment she saw him, her face lit up with a soft, genuine smile, relief evident in her expression as she said, "You are back, young master."

Her eyes moved over him, and a small puzzled look formed almost immediately.

"Hmm? You look out of breath... did you come back running?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

Damon did not answer.

He simply stood there for a brief moment, his gaze lingering on her before shifting away.

Sahira hesitated, then spoke again, her tone gentle.

"Maybe you should take a quick shower... then we can cook—"

"I have no appetite," Damon cut in, his voice flat, controlled, "you can eat by yourself."

Before she could respond—

He had already moved past her.

The bathroom door closed behind him.

Sahira remained where she stood, her hands tightening slightly as she watched the door for a few seconds before her gaze lowered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"D-did I do something wrong..."

Inside the bathroom, hot water streamed down from above, sliding over Damon’s shoulders and along his back, the heat filling the enclosed space as steam began to gather faintly around him.

He leaned forward slightly, pressing his forehead against the cool tiled wall, his eyes closing as he allowed the silence to take over, his thoughts finally slowing, untangling from the urgency that had driven him there.

Time passed.

Unmeasured.

Unnoticed.

When he finally stepped out, the tension in his expression had lessened, though not entirely disappeared, as he changed into a simple t-shirt and trousers, his movements quieter now, more controlled.

The night deepened.

The room settled into stillness.

Sahira stood in the main room, her head lowered, as if unsure whether to move or speak, until Damon’s voice broke the silence.

"Why are you not sleeping?"

She flinched slightly at the sudden sound, looking up at him before asking softly, "W-what about you?"

"I will sit at the desk," Damon replied, his tone even, "I have to study a bit... you can sleep."

Sahira nodded quietly.

Without another word, she turned and changed into her night clothes before lying down on the bed, her movements careful, almost hesitant, as if trying not to disturb him.

Damon pulled a chair and sat at the desk beside the bed, his posture straight as he looked ahead, the faint sound of her shifting settling into the quiet of the room as the night stretched on.

Damon let out a slow breath, a book open in front of him, its pages illuminated by the soft ambient light of the room, yet his eyes were unfocused, lingering somewhere far beyond the words printed before him, his attention drifting back to what had happened earlier.

His fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the page as his thoughts began to align.

I must have activated my resonance...while I was with Zarhka...

A faint tension settled in his expression.

Lust... desire... those are also forms of negative emotion...

He leaned back slightly in his chair.

So it shouldn’t be surprising that I lost control...

The logic was sound and simple.

Consistent with everything he had been told.

And yet—His eyes shifted.

Toward the bed, toward Sahira.

She lay there quietly, her breathing steady, her figure relaxed in sleep, completely unaware of the storm that had passed through him just hours ago.

Damon’s gaze lingered.

And his thoughts shifted again.

Then why...

A faint crease formed between his brows.

Why didn’t it escalate when I was with her...?

His fingers stilled.

I did lose control... but that was just my normal emotions heightened due to resonance..

His eyes narrowed slightly.

That wasn’t my resonance activating...

A pause settled in his mind.

Heavy and deliberate.

It never triggered on its own... not even once...

His gaze remained fixed on her.

...Why?