Zib took slow, tentative steps toward Dila, his boots scraping gently against the metal floor. His hands fidgeted nervously, thumbs rubbing against each other, and his shoulders hunched just slightly like he was trying to shrink his frame.

"Y-You know what, Princess…" he began, forcing a smile that trembled at the edges. His voice cracked slightly. "For now… maybe let's just—refrain from crafting custom potions in my alchemist smithing lab, alright? Just… for now."

He chuckled, awkward and dry, eyes closing tightly as sweat visibly ran down his temples.

"How about… I give you some of my own power potions instead?" he continued, the smile stretching wider in forced optimism. "O-Or any of the others I've made already—ones that don't, uh… bleed mist or melt metal tables or possess people with unknown energy, haha…?"

He rubbed the back of his head, trying to keep it light, but his trembling fingers betrayed his nerves.

Meanwhile, Fran was still wrapped tightly around Dila. She had quieted now, but instead of letting go, she just nestled herself deeper against Dila's chest, snuggling in with small, almost kitten-like sounds. Her face rested gently over Dila's heart as if trying to memorize the warmth—maybe scared it might vanish again.

Dila looked down at her, her cold blue eyes softening, fingers gently brushing along Fran's soft dark navy hair in a slow rhythm. But her mind wasn't quiet.

(But—)

The thought barely formed when—

☆ Master, no buts! ☆

Nari's soft, delicate voice cut sharply through her thoughts like a feather slicing silence.

☆ Or else you can't duel if you get into another accident now! ☆

Dila froze, her expression unreadable as Nari continued.

☆ Please… listen to me, Master. Just this once. ☆

☆ I know you're not a pushover. You're smart, capable… and incredibly brave. ☆

☆ But when life… and the unknown are on the line—you must yield. Even just a little. Please. ☆

There was a brief pause in the system's voice, like she was holding back something trembling.

Dila stared at nothing for a moment, her mind quiet and heavy.

She slowly exhaled.

(…Fine,) she replied in her thoughts. It wasn't surrender—it was restraint. A rare, reluctant pause.

A quiet understanding passed between her and Nari in that silence. And still, Fran snuggled closer, safe in Dila's arms.

Dila didn't speak right away.

She just stood there, holding Fran… letting her heart settle… and finally allowing herself a breath of stillness.

Meanwhile...

After a few long seconds wrapped in the warm stillness of that snuggled embrace, Dila gently shifted her arms. The quiet weight of Fran against her chest was oddly comforting like holding onto a piece of peace in the middle of chaos. Fran's breath was soft, her head tucked now shifted into Dila's shoulder as if she never wanted to let go.

But then—

"…Fran," Dila whispered, her voice soft, delicate, almost like a sister speaking to her little sibling. "Please let me go now."

Fran didn't respond right away.

"I… need to move," Dila added, her tone gentle but resolute. "There's something I need to do… with Zib."

Fran's grip tightened just a little. Her cat ears twitched, her eyes slowly lifting.... shiny, glassy with tears clinging to the edges. Her lower lip pouted slightly as she stared up at Dila.

"Promise me…" Fran mumbled, her voice trembling. "Promise, you won't get hurt again…"

Tears trickled slowly down her cheeks, trailing down her soft skin. The hurt in her expression wasn't dramatic it was sincere, scared, childlike. Like someone who'd almost lost someone precious and didn't know how to protect them.

Dila still looked down into her teary eyes, quiet for a breath. Then, slowly, her expression softened, her cold aura giving way to warmth. just for this girl.

"I promise," she said quietly. "I won't get hurt again, Fran."

Her hand reached up and gently brushed the tears from Fran's cheek with her thumb, the other hand carefully patting her hair. She rubbed along Fran's face with the tenderness of someone who truly meant it—who didn't want to see her cry anymore.

Fran nodded silently, cheeks flushed, and finally let go, albeit reluctantly. She sniffled and wiped her nose with the sleeve of her puffy sleeve, still watching Dila like a kitten refusing to look away from its owner.

Meanwhile, just a few feet away, Zib was still standing… stiffly.

He hadn't moved during the whole exchange, his posture locked somewhere between respectful and awkward. His eyes darted between the two girls, his arms frozen at his sides like he was scared even breathing too loud might ruin the moment.

In his mind, however, things weren't nearly as still.

(…Okay, so is this cat girl… the Princess's pet? Or a sister? …Adopted kitten??)

He scratched his chin with a pale hand, his brow furrowing deeply.

(They're too close… but not romantic? Then again… maybe that's just how royalty bond with cat girls these days? No. No, Zib, don't pry. Don't ever pry.)

His thoughts raced in silent panic.

(I'd very much like to keep my job. And… more importantly… my head.)

He gulped and straightened his vest, composing himself, trying to look neutral. Respectful. Uninvolved.

He would not dare ask. Not now. Not ever. About that topic.

Just… smile and nod, Zib. Smile and nod.

After another few seconds..

Dila took a small step forward, her silver-white hair catching the soft light. Her tone came light and gentle, but with the weight of attention.

"…Zib," she said softly.

Zib nearly jumped out of his boots.

"AYEEEE~~!!" he squeaked, his voice cracking like a cracked kettle.

He spun on his heel with the wrong way and span again at Dila facing her with a stiff snap, both hands flailing before he slapped them down to his sides in a nervous soldier-like pose. His eyes went wide as saucers, and the tips of his ears twitched like an alarmed rodent caught mid-heist.

Dila blinked in surprise at his overreaction.

While processing what happened, Dila has keep blinking her eyes… she chuckled.

"Pfff—" she couldn't hold it in. A puff of breath slipped out like a snort, and she quickly pressed the back of her hand to her lips, trying not to laugh further.

Fran, who had been standing beside her, still slightly red-eyed from her earlier crying, suddenly let out a soft giggle. She looked at Zib with a small smile, her expression finally brightening.

Zib, now bright red, panicked.

He spun away and raised his right hand awkwardly, clutching it to his mouth as he gave the worst fake cough in alchemist history.

"Ahem— arrgghmm— ahHEMMM—!!" he croaked dramatically, eyes shut tight like the cough was going to save him from the situation.

"Alchemical fumes," he added quickly, then closing his eyes. "It's the fumes. Happens sometimes. Very... volatile air in here."

Dila and Fran both covered their mouths, trying not to burst into full laughter. Their shoulders shook with quiet giggles.

Beads of sweat rolled down Zib's forehead like dripping potion runes, one after another. He peeked with his right eye—just a tiny crack—and saw them both still watching him.

(They're still laughing? oh stars, they're laughing, abort! Retreat! Reboot dignity!!)

But then… something unexpected happened.

As Dila laughed beside Fran, her face softened not cold, not calculating just… human. Warm. Even a little shy.

Zib blinked at her… and smiled, just a little.

He might've been their laughingstock for now… but honestly?

He didn't mind it one bit.

Dila took a calm step forward, her boots making a soft thud on the metal floor.

Zib felt the temperature in the room rise... or maybe that was just the blood rushing to his head. His eyes darted left and right like the walls were closing in, and his back stiffened like someone had tied a broomstick to his spine. Every step Dila made toward him felt like a countdown.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

(Why does it feel like the world is running away from me?!) Zib screamed in his head. (I swear the walls just moved back—!)

Then Dila stood in front of him.

She tilted her head slightly, her silver hair glinting, and spoke with the most sarcastically sweet tone she could muster.

"Hello~? Halo world~? Are you there, Zib?" she teased, waving a hand near his face like she was waking a spirit from deep slumber.

Zib blinked. HARD.

"R-Right!!" he snapped into action, his hands slapping to his sides again, with feet together, legs locked. His spine straightened like a lightning rod struck through him.

The man was now in a full military stance. He looked like a soldier awaiting judgment from a goddess.

Dila raised a brow.

"...Wow. Nice pose," she said with a half-laugh and an awkward smile.

Zib didn't even blink. "Yeah," he croaked, his voice struggling to find itself. "Awkward, right?"

"Hehe, I know," Dila chuckled, folding her arms. Then, with a shift of expression so fast it startled him, her face turned composed. Formal.

It was like a princess mask slid perfectly into place.

"You said you would give me the power potions, right?" she asked, her voice clear and serious now. "Please show me where they are."

Then... she raised her right hand.

For a handshake.

Zib's brain broke.

(MY GODS. IT'S HAPPENING.)

His eyes widened.

(HANDSHAKE. PRINCESS. DILA. ME. THIS IS REAL. THIS IS NOT A DRILL—!!!)

His manly expression tried to hold itself together, forming into what could only be described as a heroic, Chad-like face. Jaw tightened. Chin out. Brows strong.

But inside?

He was a collapsing tower of spaghetti.

She held her hand there, waiting.

His right hand moved—shaking—and met hers.

"Deal," Zib said aloud, his voice noble, solid… somehow holding.

But inside his head?

"AHHHHHHHHHH—!!! I'M GONNA EXPLODE!!!"

His mind was fireworks. Fireworks on fire. Fireworks on fire riding dragons that were also on fire.

This was the peak of his alchemist career.

Princess Dila had just shaken his hand.

As if Nothing else mattered anymore.