Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: When Logic and Otome Games Don’t Mix

Izecaiyada had never been someone who fit into predefined molds. At 35 years old, it was hard to guess her actual age. Her appearance was deceptive—many would swear she was between 17 and 22. Smooth skin untouched by time, deep and thoughtful eyes, energetic gestures, and a mischievous smile made her seem much younger, much freer.

Born under the sign of Pisces and in the Year of the Snake, Izecaiyada possessed a rare combination: an almost magical intuition, typical of her astrological sign, and a sharp, analytical mind—strategic and calculating—that allowed her to unravel even the most complex video game plots, no matter how twisted. Her emotional depth led her to live intensely, yet also to question everything, reflect deeply, and search for answers in the most unexpected places.

The Mexican gamer had grown up in a world where the lines between reality and fiction blurred easily. From a young age, she had developed a profound love for video games—but not just any kind: otome games were one of her greatest obsessions. She had played almost all of them, from classics to the latest releases, in English, Japanese, and sometimes even in fan-translated versions with questionable grammar. Every time she discovered a new title, she didn’t just play it—she became part of its world. Her notebooks were filled with route maps, decision trees, and detailed notes about characters. Among her online friends, she had earned the title of expert.

She was the kind of player who wouldn’t settle for what the game offered at face value. Every detail, every option, every word on the screen was analyzed like a secret formula. But despite her skill, frustration was inevitable. And, like any devoted gamer, she never held her tongue when things didn’t make sense.

Although her daily life wasn’t as adventurous as her virtual ones, she felt most alive when immersed in the romance and drama of those stories. Every route was an adventure, every character a mystery, every choice an escape from the monotony of real life. That thrill kept her going.

But at that very moment, tablet in hand, Izecaiyada wasn’t just playing. She was about to face something she had never experienced before: an otome game that would challenge her in ways even her sharpest skills couldn’t anticipate.

Was she ready for what was coming? Or would her unrelenting need to question everything launch her into an adventure the game itself couldn’t foresee?

Pisces Izecaiyada Spends 10 Million on the Black Market

Izecaiyada, as any seasoned otome player, knew exactly what she was doing. She was an expert in these fictional worlds, with years of experience and a passion for uncovering every hidden corner of romantic routes, tangled plots, and complex characters. Her tablet—loaded with the latest trending otome—was her loyal partner in the daily war against reality.

She was on a crucial mission. Everything had gone smoothly up until the black market stage, with Aries by her side. The market, equal parts eerie and intriguing, was where the most dangerous—and expensive—transactions took place. But Izecaiyada wasn’t worried. She had, as always, come prepared.

Aries
(With a confident smile, glancing around as they walked through the market shadows)
"Pick whatever you need. Don’t hold back. I’ve got it covered."

Izecaiyada
(Out loud, eyes locked on the tablet screen, laughing nervously)
"Cover it? Please! You know I’m a math genius. Not a single coin gets wasted. I’ve got this under control!"

In the game, however, the protagonist seemed to have other plans. A few clicks later, the transaction was done. The price the vendor had named for a rare material needed for a crucial upgrade was... outrageous. Izecaiyada froze at the number flashing on the screen.

Ten million.
Ten. Million.

She was stunned. This was peak absurdity.

Izecaiyada
(Eyes wide, hands in the air, staring at the screen in disbelief)
"WHAT?! Girl, no! Why would you pay that much?! This is insane! Aren’t transactions supposed to be strategic?! HAGGLE! Tell him you’re broke, tell him anything—but do something!"

On-screen, the merchants laughed with that smug grin only video game characters could pull off. Aries, unfazed as ever, observed with infuriating calm. The deal was done, and all that remained was his comment—a comment Izecaiyada was definitely not ready for.

Aries
(In the most relaxed tone, as if discussing the price of coffee)
"Relax, sweetheart. With me, you don’t have to worry about things like money. It’s not an issue."

Izecaiyada fell back in her chair, utterly dumbfounded. Not from surprise, but from a mix of rage and disbelief.

Izecaiyada
(Out loud, nearing madness)
"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?! Money’s not a problem?! THEN WHY EVEN HAVE PRICES?!"

(Starts tapping furiously on the screen)
"Explain this, game! What kind of logic is this? Who writes these scripts?! Who came up with these ridiculous prices?!"

Aries, calm and composed as ever, offered yet another line—one that, despite the chaos in her head, could melt any woman’s heart.

Aries
(With a disarming smile only fantasy characters could wear)
"The important thing is, you got what you needed. When you’re with me, you can have whatever you want."

Izecaiyada stood from her chair, eyes glued to the screen, armed with a sarcasm sharp enough to cut glass.

Izecaiyada
(Sarcastic tone, glaring at Aries on the screen)
"Oh, wonderful! Just what I always dreamed of—being a reckless heroine funded by a mafia sugar daddy with an unlimited credit card. What a magical world!"

Her sarcasm helped her calm down, but her thoughts kept spinning. As the game moved forward, she stared at the screen with a strange feeling in her chest.

Izecaiyada
(Whispering to herself, fingers tracing the screen, now introspective)
"Why does this bother me so much? It’s just a game, right? But… God, I wish real life were this simple. Spending without fear, no need to count every cent, not stressing about every little detail. Just… free. Like them."

(She sighs deeply, smiling bitterly as she returns her attention to the screen.)
"And here I am, scolding a fictional character for being irresponsible. I’ve officially lost it. Thanks, Aries, for the reminder that real life is definitely not a game."

The glow from the tablet reflected in her eyes. Maybe, just maybe, in that fictional world, the rules weren’t so complicated.
But for now, she had to return to reality.
And reality was far less forgiving.

Chapter Text

🎵 For the full experience, we recommend reading this chapter with the background music:

"Sleep Well" (from Poppy Playtime: Chapter 3) by CG5 - OFFICIAL MUSIC VIDEO

At 35, Izecaiyada was far from ordinary. Her life had always been a dance between the extraordinary and the mundane—a constant tug-of-war between her exceptional abilities and the harsh reality of her health. Though her body was "stable," it was far from invincible. She knew she didn’t have a superhero’s physique, and certainly not the kind that could ignore the effects of stress. Inside, her mind ran a mile a minute, but on the outside, she had to be cautious. Every step had to be measured—her body didn’t tolerate excess.

From a young age, Izecaiyada had discovered a peculiar trait: an unusual ability to visualize and replicate any technique or movement she saw. She only needed to watch a few times, and her mind would record and reproduce it as if she had it on instant playback. At first, it seemed like a divine gift—a near-miraculous advantage that allowed her to excel at almost anything she tried. She called it "visualization." But what no one saw was the price she paid for it.

Although her ability to replicate techniques and learn at an overwhelming speed made her stand out in nearly any field, it quickly became clear that her body couldn’t keep up. Her mind was a high-speed train, but her body was far more fragile than she liked to admit. Every time she pushed her ability too far, her health took a hit. Her lungs would suffer, and she would be bedridden for days. Along with the physical toll came sharp migraines—blinding, pulsing pain that left her incapacitated. She tried to normalize the suffering, blaming it on the stress of being bullied at school. But deep down, she knew the truth: the cost was higher than she wanted to pay.

So she learned to be prudent—to measure every use of that ability, every effort, every repetition. She could become unstoppable for brief moments, but if she didn’t pace herself, her body would collapse.

Then there was her other power—one she had learned to control with near-military discipline: the berserker.

Izecaiyada would never forget the day it first emerged. She was only ten years old when her life, and the lives of fifteen other children, were in danger. Something primal awakened in her, and she unleashed a brutal force to protect them. She tore through everything in her path like a raging storm. The adrenaline of that moment had awakened a wild, ferocious energy that, had it gone unchecked, could have destroyed everything around her. The aftermath made it clear: this power came with a steep cost. And not just physical—it left a deep emotional scar.

Whenever she felt that surge of fury building up, she knew releasing it could not only harm others—it could destroy her. Recovering from one of those episodes wasn’t just long and painful; it felt like her body had to rebuild itself from the inside out. After that first time, she was sick for two straight weeks. That was enough to teach her restraint. She learned to hold that rage inside, to never let it fully escape. No one could ever know the true extent of her strength—not even herself.

And yet, the strange part was that both abilities—the "visualization" and the "berserker rage" —were always there, coiled within her, ready to be unleashed. But Izecaiyada knew that if she ever gave in to the temptation of using them too often, her body, her mind, and her soul would pay the price.

That inner conflict became her greatest challenge: how to balance the desire to protect others, to be a hero, with the need to protect her own health. How to manage such destructive powers without becoming her own worst enemy?

This led her to a kind of introspective maturity. While her mind stayed sharp, analytical, always eager to explore her limits, her body reminded her daily that she wasn’t indestructible. She came to understand that wisdom wasn’t just about mastering her abilities—it was about knowing her limits. She couldn’t afford to live recklessly like others. Every decision had to be calculated, especially when the temptation to unleash her full potential became too strong.

Izecaiyada wasn’t just a skilled player or a brilliant strategist in the world of otome games and video games—she had learned to live in the delicate space between fantasy and reality in a way few could understand. Her powers—powers others might admire or even envy if they knew—were both a blessing and a burden. And although her life might seem normal to those around her, no one saw the daily battles she fought, in body and in mind.

Like many Pisces, her emotions often overflowed. But at her core, Izecaiyada was also a cunning Snake—calm, analytical, and capable of assessing every situation carefully. Though she had impulsive tendencies, she always knew how to pause, how to step back and consider the consequences. Sometimes she wished she could be more carefree, less bound by constant inner warnings about her health.

But life was never that simple. Life was never just a game.

The Lesson She Didn’t Want to Learn

Izecaiyada was never the kind of girl who shone in sports. Since she was little, she had always been the “nerd” of the class — the one who hid behind books, the one who got straight A’s without even “trying too hard.” That made her stand out, but not in the way she would have liked. Instead of being admired for her intelligence, she was seen as strange, misunderstood. And, as often happens when someone is different, the bullying began.

She attended a private school on an academic scholarship, which made her even more visible among her classmates — children from wealthy families. Even though she excelled in class, she never truly earned a place among them. Her scholarship status made her a constant target for mockery — sometimes subtle, sometimes cruel.

They would steal her supplies, ruin her assignments, and more than once falsely accused her of things she hadn’t done, simply because she was “the different one.” Not because she fit a stereotype — she didn’t steal because of some cliché, but out of survival. Over time, Beatriz learned how to take back what was hers, how to move unnoticed, how to protect the little she had. It wasn’t cheating. It was defense. It was strategy. It was growing up knowing the rules were always going to be different for her.

In middle school, the teasing got meaner. They called her things like “The weird one,” “The bookworm,” “The one who never does anything in P.E.” They excluded her from everything. When it was time to pick teams, she was always the last one chosen — out of pity, or simply because no one else was left. No matter how hard she tried to fit in, her classmates only looked at her with indifference, or worse, with mockery.

One day, after being picked last once again for a soccer game, something inside her cracked. She looked at herself in the mirror and realized that while her mind was a safe haven and a source of pride, her body was another story. She couldn’t go on like this. She needed something more — something that would make her feel like she belonged, that she was worth more than just her grades. And for a moment, she thought sports could be her way in. If she trained hard enough, if she could prove she was just as good as the others, maybe she’d earn their respect. Maybe they’d stop seeing her as a joke.

So she began training in secret. There was no internet to look up videos, but there were sports programs on TV and a few books. She watched them over and over, analyzing every move. Her first attempts were pathetic — but that didn’t stop her. She used her “visualization” skill, something she had honed for years, to see the plays and movements in her mind and then repeat them. She was alone — and she didn’t care. She just wanted to fit in. She wanted to prove she was capable of something physical, that she was worth it.

Over time, the results began to show. Her body was no longer that of a weak girl, but someone with potential. In endurance races, she began to outperform most of her classmates. In training, her speed and precision started to stand out. Her effort was paying off — or so she thought. But the impact of her achievements turned out to be very different from what she had hoped.

At the next school race, Izecaiyada ran faster than she ever thought possible. She was the first to cross the finish line, and for a second, she believed everything would change. The ache in her legs, the sweat on her forehead — all the sacrifice was finally bearing fruit. She sat down to rest, but before she could even feel the thrill of victory, she heard a voice.

A classmate — one of the cruelest — approached her with a crooked smile, almost mocking. “You’re not human,” he said, looking at her with a mix of disbelief and something else she couldn’t quite name. “What kind of trick was that? How could you run like that?”

It wasn’t a comment of awe or admiration. It was judgment. Condemnation. As if her ability, her effort, had no place in their world. Instead of recognition, what she encountered was fear. That same classmate, who had long ostracized her, didn’t see a girl who had worked to improve herself — he saw a threat. Something that didn’t belong. Izecaiyada felt the air leave her lungs. What she thought would be her moment of acceptance became the moment she realized she could never win — not really — no matter how hard she tried.

That was the beginning of her total isolation. They didn’t just stop talking to her — worse, they began whispering behind her back, and acting aggressively toward her. The murmurs followed her through the halls. The comments, often accompanied by “accidental” bumps and jabs, became crueler. They called her names like “The freak,” “The alien,” “The one who doesn’t belong.”

The bullying she had endured for years morphed into something more visceral, more unbearable.

She no longer just felt invisible — she felt terrifying. Alien. Something others preferred to avoid. Her one attempt to belong, to earn a place in that world she longed for, had failed spectacularly. Not only had they rejected her — they feared her.

In the next P.E. class, Izecaiyada could barely concentrate. Her mind was clouded with her classmate’s words and the fear she had seen in the others’ eyes. “It’s not worth it,” she thought, watching the others enjoy themselves without her. She withdrew again into her comfort zone — the classroom, the books, the math — where her abilities didn’t inspire fear, only “admiration.” Though even that came with the distant stares of those who would never understand her.

It was that day that Izecaiyada gave up sports. Not because she lacked the talent — but because the emotional cost of trying to fit in was too high. And though deep down she still longed for acceptance, she realized that being different didn’t always mean being admired. Sometimes, it just meant being a threat. And she was no longer willing to lose parts of herself for something that was never going to be hers.

No, Izecaiyada never ran in public again. But that didn't mean he'd stopped moving. He'd simply learned to do it in the shadows.

Chapter Text

The sun was low, the cool afternoon air brushed her skin as she prepared for one of the hardest exercises she had ever faced. P.E. class was always an emotional battlefield for Izecaiyada. What for others was just another routine activity was, for her, a constant reminder of what she couldn’t achieve—of what she would never accomplish without the effort and discipline her classmates seemed to have naturally.

Every time she lined up for a race or a game, she felt the discomfort or mockery in the eyes of others.

That afternoon would be no different—or so she thought.

The circuit exam was the final challenge of the semester. Each student had to complete a series of exercises: sprinting, jumping over obstacles, doing sit-ups, and more. Everyone went through the motions with no real commitment, just trying to finish quickly so they could go play and get out from under the teacher’s watchful eye. No one took the exercise seriously, as always.

Except her.

Izecaiyada knew she wasn’t fast or strong. She knew she wouldn’t stand out in that field, but something inside her pushed her to keep going. Not for the grade, nor for others’ expectations. She did it because, for some reason, she needed to prove something to herself—as if that was the only way to feel valid. So once again, she stayed until the very last minute, doing every exercise with care, every movement with precision, trying to do well what everyone else was just trying to get over with.

When most of her classmates were already on the soccer field, tossing balls or running without a care, she was still in the gym, sweating, exhausted, but focused. Then came the paired exercises, and the blow hit immediately. She looked around, searching for someone to be her partner for stretches and partner push-ups, but no one looked at her. Everyone was already paired off, laughing, chatting among themselves. Izecaiyada stood still in the middle of the gym, feeling the silence of exclusion grow louder with every second. The teacher noticed her from across the room but said nothing.

However, something changed when she finally finished the circuit. She looked up and saw the teacher’s face—the only one who seemed to notice her effort. He didn’t say what others might have: no “Good job” or “That was fast.” No. His comment went deeper, something that resonated within her, something that gave her a small push in a moment when her world felt like it was crumbling:

“Everyone else might be faster, stronger, more agile than you. But you know what? You have something they don’t—and that’s dedication. And trust me, not giving up will take you far in life, not just here. Never settle.”

Izecaiyada stood in silence, staring at him. It was the first time someone saw what she did, the first time someone recognized that it wasn’t natural talent driving her—it was sheer perseverance. He saw her soul through her efforts, through her struggle to fit in, to be accepted. That left her speechless, but for the first time, made her feel like maybe she wasn’t so wrong after all.

When the teacher finished speaking, Izecaiyada approached his desk with her head down, still blushing from the attention. She knew she wasn’t there to win a prize or to be the star. But when the grades were handed out, her face tensed as she saw what was in front of her: a 10. Perfect.

She was the only one in the class who got it. No one else had completed the circuit with the same dedication, the same care. The teacher explained it in front of everyone, without sugarcoating it:

“This is the only complete work. Everyone else rushed through it, but she stayed until the end, completing every single exercise with care. And for that, Izecaiyada, you get the 10. Not for being the fastest or the strongest, but for showing what really matters: dedication.”

The silence in the room was palpable. The other students looked at each other—some annoyed, others surprised, and some, as always, just silently mocking her. But Izecaiyada didn’t care. She no longer cared what they thought of her. At least someone had seen her. Even if the rest were staring at the floor, she knew that in some corner of her soul, there was something they couldn’t take away: her dedication.

However, that same afternoon, as she left the gym, Izecaiyada realized something else. While the others ignored her or looked at her with indifference, the weight of exclusion still hung on her shoulders. No one had really congratulated her, no one approached her to talk, there were no claps—just cold indifference. It was the teacher who had given her that tiny spark of hope, but otherwise, her world remained the same. The whispers and stares from classmates continued. Still, for the first time, she felt capable of facing them.

Though she still felt the shadow of bullying, though she was still the “weird” or “strange” one to others, something inside her had changed. She no longer needed to be the best at everything. She had learned that dedication, while it might not earn her others’ acceptance, gave her something far more valuable: self-respect.

The Virtual Refuge

Since she was a child, video games had become her sanctuary. There was nothing like the click of the keyboard, the familiar sound of a loading screen, or the satisfaction of defeating a final boss after hours of battle. In a world where acceptance and validation always seemed out of reach, Izecaiyada found comfort in virtual worlds her parents couldn’t provide—a means of escape where real-life problems dissolved and where, at last, she could be good at something.

As a teen, she would retreat to her room with her old PC, which she had earned through her own effort and extra work hours. Even though her family’s financial situation was far from ideal, video games became the only “wealth” she could afford. The screen lit up her face in the dark, a refuge amid economic uncertainty and social isolation.

From Pokémon in its purest form—collecting creatures and forming strategies in her mind while exploring every corner of the Kanto region—to fighting games, where she released her frustration and found in combos and special moves a sense of control her life lacked. Then, without delay, she dove into Final Fantasy , where she not only immersed herself in epic stories, but analyzed character builds, skills, combat mechanics, and asked herself: how could this be improved? She sometimes thought: This ability from one game could be used in another to defeat that villain... the one who isn’t even implemented this way yet...

Saint Seiya captivated her with its narrative of heroism, but also with the complex battle patterns, the techniques, the calculations to predict the opponent’s next move—just like other anime stories and TV series. The same happened with RPGs, where managing resources and characters became a mental challenge, almost like a digital chess game. If anyone had overheard her, they might have caught her muttering softly, like a mantra: “If I switch this ability here, I could beat that boss with minimal damage. Or if I add an area magic, that strategy becomes unstoppable.”

But she didn’t limit herself to RPGs or fighting games. She also dove into shooters, where she became a specialist in control and precision. She had a keen eye for predicting enemy movement, as if everything followed a great pattern she could solve. Card games like Solitaire, Poker, or UNO also became part of her routine. It wasn’t just to pass the time—they were mental training. Every card played was a calculated move, every decision made with the cold mind of someone who thought beyond the obvious.

It was as if, just like in real life—where she felt she had to calculate every step to avoid mistakes—video games offered her a simulation where she could test her abilities without real consequences, without judgmental stares or the expectations of others. There, her worth wasn’t measured by speed or physical ability, but by her mind and strategy. And that, for once, made her feel enough.

And of course, those long nights of gaming also gave her time to theorize. Izecaiyada was fascinated by thinking about the hidden mechanics in video games, the way stories were intertwined with gameplay, how a small tweak could create a major impact. These theories, born in her mind, were her way of taking control in a world where control often slipped out of her hands. Every time she finished a game, she would wonder: How could I have done it differently? What would have happened if...?

Her schoolmates, who ignored or rejected her, would likely never know about her love for video games or the immense satisfaction she felt when solving complex problems in a world free from unfair rules and social expectations. In the world of video games, Izecaiyada found what the real world had denied her: validation, independence, and above all, a refuge where everything depended only on her.

Despite the hardships of her environment, the lack of money for a modern console, or the constant pressure of a family that didn’t understand her hobbies, she remained there. The sound of pixels and virtual characters was her only steady companion, a way to feel she had something of her own—something that didn’t depend on anyone else to exist. Every level reached, every new boss defeated, was a small victory reminding her that she could be good at something, even if it was just in her world.

Chapter Text

Izecaiyada was never the best at physical activities—at least not in the way the school system valued them. In sports competitions and aptitude tests, she always landed in fourth place , with such a minimal difference from the top ranks that it seemed almost irrelevant. A 9.7 versus a 10, a 9.8 against a 9.9. The differences were mere decimals, yet in her mind, those numbers didn’t change the fact that she always fell short of the podium.

At first, these results didn’t bother her much. Effort mattered more than the score , she thought. But over time, something began to shift. The rejection, the furtive glances, and the laughter behind her back became part of her daily life. The constant comparison to her peers made her feel that no matter how well she did, she would always be in limbo. Not good enough to be the best, not bad enough to be ignored . Always on the edge, close but never quite reaching the goal.

What hurt her the most, however, wasn’t just finishing in fourth place—it was the comment from one of her classmates on the day she managed to stay in the race with great effort. After a race ended, the boy who always aspired to be first approached her and, without much courtesy, said with disdain:

—"Why are you stealing my fourth place?"

It wasn’t just a competitive remark. It was a clear expression of gendered expectations that highlighted the difference between them. Why? Because he couldn’t accept that a girl had taken what he believed was rightfully his. At first, Izecaiyada thought the criticism was just part of the game—something “sports rivalry” naturally generated. However, over time, she realized something deeper. That comment was laden with sexism . It wasn’t a protest born from healthy competition, but a reflection of a larger idea: women weren’t allowed to stand out , especially in areas society expected men to dominate.

And though he never said it outright, Izecaiyada understood the comment probably came from a deeper place: his mother , who had likely taught him from an early age that there’s only room at the top and that women shouldn’t disrupt that hierarchy . It was a subtle but powerful lesson, mirroring the social pressures and expectations of a patriarchal system that not only sidelined women but made men feel threatened by their success.

Years later, now as a teacher, Izecaiyada was able to reflect on that moment from a completely different perspective. As an educator, she realized the experience of being a student wasn’t unique; it repeated itself constantly in the hallways of her school. As a teacher of Arts Education , trained to teach the four pillars— Visual Arts, Theater, Music, and Dance —Izecaiyada had learned that art wasn’t just about technique, but about a deep connection with the self .

As she observed her students, she began to notice patterns that felt eerily familiar. Many of the young people entering her classroom—especially those from homes with high expectations for academic and personal achievement —showed signs of insecurity. They attended class with a constant need for validation, eager to meet the standards imposed on them. And in subjects like the arts, where creativity and personal expression should be the driving force, this became an almost invisible but deeply limiting barrier .

Even in subjects where there was no direct competition, the obsession with being “the best” had been ingrained in their minds from a young age, like a constant hunger for external approval. Izecaiyada could see it clearly: in their painting gestures, in their timid acting attempts, in how they hesitated to compose music or dance. In each of those moments, she saw the internal struggle of students who, instead of feeling free, felt trapped by their own pressure .

As a teacher of Arts Education, she understood that the true value of these disciplines lay not just in mastering technique, but in allowing students to express themselves , to take risks, to free themselves from external expectations and focus on the process of creation. Art was not a contest. In its truest essence, art was a journey inward , a constant exploration of human vulnerability.

Izecaiyada had never imagined that her ability for “visualization” would take her so far in her career. While she had always been talented at mimicking any movement she saw (at a cost to her health, of course), it was in theater that she discovered her true passion. At first, she didn’t understand why she could portray roles so easily, but she soon realized that her talent for “seeing” and “feeling” every gesture , and then translating it into her own body, became stronger when done through a character. The key was in giving it a personal touch—a unique nuance that made each action feel natural. Instead of forcing her body to imitate something from scratch, she simply saw it as a performance , a role to play. This way, visualization became more fluid, less exhausting , and she could fully immerse herself in the character with ease.

And it was then that Izecaiyada understood something fundamental: as a teacher, she wasn’t just there to teach how to paint, act, dance, or compose music—she was there to allow her students to make mistakes , to see the value in each imperfect step . Through the four pillars of the fine arts, she was teaching them to find their own voice, to break free from those invisible chains that kept them in constant competition. What they needed most was to understand that in art, as in life, perfection is not the goal—authenticity is .

Izecaiyada began to see that her classmate’s comment wasn’t an isolated incident, nor was it directed only at her. It was a reflection of a system that taught boys from a young age to compete aggressively and to feel superior to girls . What seemed like a simple complaint about losing “fourth place” was actually an echo of the education he received at home , from an environment where girls weren’t seen as rivals. In the end, that sexist mindset was something children learned without ever questioning.

Reflecting on this, Izecaiyada realized that the rejection and pain she had felt didn’t just affect her—it also revealed a lot about the pressure boys face to live up to certain expectations of success. Her classmate’s comment stopped being a personal wound and became a point of reflection on how social expectations affect both men and women , though in different ways.

This understanding became one of the foundational pillars of her teaching career. Instead of seeing her students as mere competitors in a race for first place, Izecaiyada now saw them as individuals pressured by a system telling them what to do and how to be. In her work, she began to promote a more holistic approach to education , where personal effort and dedication were valued far more than simple victory. Through her own experiences, she came to understand that it doesn’t matter where you finish—it matters how hard you worked to get there.

As a teacher, Izecaiyada began to teach her students to celebrate their personal effort , to stop comparing themselves to others, and to stop measuring their worth by external expectations. It was her way of healing the wounds she herself had suffered, and of helping others overcome the barriers imposed by the system.

A Virtual Escape: Games, Frustration, and Fireworks

Izecaiyada wasn’t expecting much when she decided to install that popular game. After all, at 35 years old, she was no longer a young woman fascinated by the latest geek culture trends, but someone looking for a bit of distraction after a long workday. She had discovered the game through Pinterest, where she saw numerous fan arts of the protagonist. Although it wasn’t her usual aesthetic, the reviews wouldn’t stop praising it. “Might as well try it,” she thought, and downloaded it.

From the very beginning, something bothered her. The game’s protagonist, a typical female character from an Asian-style visual novel, seemed to be the embodiment of the word "flower gatherer" She bounced from one love interest to another, shamelessly flirting with every guy in the story. Izecaiyada, a Mexican woman through and through, thought she had seen all kinds of flirting in real life, but this level of brazenness felt shocking . In her world, flirting was a more subtle, even playful dance— never so blatant or artificial as what she was seeing on screen.

"Seriously?" she grumbled as she controlled the character, watching her approach the second guy, then the third, the fourth, and then back again to the first. "What’s the point of this?" she muttered, as if the game had nothing more to offer than those superficial interactions. But what really drew her in was one particular character: an Aries man—rich, tall, handsome, and to top it off, a mafia boss .

This Aries, with his white hair and red eyes, captured Izecaiyada’s attention not only because of his elegant and dangerous demeanor, but because of his arrogant, confident attitude—something only an Aries could pull off . And what frustrated her the most was how he treated the protagonist: with far too much patience . He, a mafia boss with the world at his feet, gave her his undivided attention, while she— the protagonist—kept shamelessly flirting with all the others .

"Of course," Izecaiyada scoffed. "You can afford to create all these perfect moments because you’ve got money." She, who had grown up with a more humble mindset, felt deeply uncomfortable with such flashy and superficial displays of luxury . One scene in particular triggered an unexpected reaction.

It was the moment when Aries, in his grand style, invited the protagonist on a romantic date: a walk under the fireworks . On a bridge, in the middle of winter, he took her to enjoy one of those perfect, fairy-tale views. But Izecaiyada’s discomfort was immediate . "Oh, sure!" she shouted at the screen. "You can only do that because you’re rich!" Her frustration boiled over; she couldn’t stand what felt like a hollow scene, just a display of power and money.

She decided to clear her head and, like anyone who needs fresh air after a big dose of frustration, she went to the corner store. Chips and a Coca-Cola became the perfect remedy for her foul mood. As she walked, soda in one hand and crunchy chips in the other, she looked up and saw fireworks in the sky. That night, the colors sparkled above the nearby hill— just like in the game .

But here’s the fun part: Izecaiyada, being the irreverent girl she was, decided to imagine that the Aries character was right there next to her , watching the same show. She looked up at the sky and, with a sarcastic smile, made a mocking gesture. "Idiooooot," she said out loud, as if he could actually hear her. Then, with a defiant tone, she added:

— "Look, I bet you wouldn't dare eat chips and drink Coca-Cola like me. Not everything in life has to be so... pompous."

Turning on her heel, she walked away with determination, as if she had truly won a small battle within herself , mocking the expectations of perfection that Aries tried to impose.

The scene, in its simplicity, reflected her internal process : the fight against external perfection, against those idealized images that society and even the game tried to impose. In her world, simple things—the ones that made you feel good without needing perfect packaging—meant more . Why should she keep seeking validation in a game, when in real life, the small joys—like chips and a soda—could be her true form of freedom ?

This moment allowed Izecaiyada to understand herself a little better. What frustrated her about Aries wasn’t just his arrogant attitude or extravagant gestures, but the way he mirrored what she sometimes expected in real life : a perfect love, a perfect life, with no real effort. However, she knew she didn’t need that kind of perfection. She had already learned that not everything had to be wrapped in luxury to be meaningful.

The game, as frustrating as it was and as much as it made her laugh in exasperation, allowed her to connect with something deeper: the need for self-validation and the joy of simple things, without having to prove anything to anyone . Maybe someday Aries could become part of her in-game story, but her true strength lay in finding joy in the simple and the real .

Chapter Text

For Izecaiyada , the idea of ideal love was never about what magazines sold or what she saw in video games. Her concept of a true and powerful relationship was closer to Hades , the character from Kamigami no Asobi , than anyone else. Hades, with his firm character and introspective nature , was the perfect Capricorn for her: passionate , strong , yet touched by a melancholy that reflected the depth of his being. His emotional stability , natural power , and connection to the shadows felt like the very essence of what a romantic relationship should be. He wasn’t just the god of the underworld—he was someone with a deep emotional story . He had suffered , and his deep voice echoed with a sadness that only a being like him could hold—an anguished yet strong soul , full of passion, and without the need to shine through extravagance.

Izecaiyada had always seen him as the top of the impossible loves . With Hades, power didn’t come from luxury or physical beauty, but from his backstory , his sacrifice , and that unbreakable strength born from pain and experience. To her, Hades represented a bond of authentic connection , where grand gestures weren’t necessary to prove the depth or strength of love. Her ideal relationship was one that wouldn’t crumble under life’s superficiality .

However, now she had to deal with the reality of Aries in the game. The game’s version of Aries represented the complete opposite of what she considered ideal love. His world was filled with luxury , money , ostentatious power , and an exaggerated ego . While Hades showed his strength through subtlety and sorrow , Aries shone with every display of superiority , reminding Izecaiyada that, even if she despised him, his presence was overwhelming . The contrast between the two was so cosmic , it felt absurd that she found herself so caught up in that dynamic .

What really bothered Izecaiyada about Aries wasn’t so much his power, but his lack of authenticity . Aries played the role of the “ impossible hero ”: rich, arrogant, strong, and always ready to pull off grand acts. But the most fascinating part of the game was that, despite her discomfort with him, Aries was the only one with whom she didn’t feel useless . In the game’s battle system , both the protagonist and the love interest fight enemies together—and even though Aries was clearly the strongest , Izecaiyada didn’t feel completely powerless next to him. As if just standing beside him made her feel stronger .

But even if everything about Aries was over the top , one thing made her keep playing: the dreaded card system . This time, the banner featured a special card . And not just any card— Aries’s card , which came with a story so epic , it felt like it came from an old internet meme .

https://m.cuantarazon.com/991854/papa-noel-ya-se-lo-que-quiero-esta-noche-

When Izecaiyada discovered Aries’s mythical origin , she was absolutely stunned. According to the game, Aries had been a “humanoid dragon” in his past life. In that life, he had met the protagonist, who at the time was a powerful witch . The script, absurd in its own way, started to lean into mythology and ancient folklore , but also the kind of over-the-top story typical of these games, which made Izecaiyada chuckle a bit.

“Oh, of course—a dragon-man who used to be the protagonist’s ancient lover. Now it all makes sense. All that’s missing is some telenovela drama ,” she thought, laughing softly.

Still, she couldn’t deny there was something magnetic about the story. Maybe it was the mythological twist , or perhaps the idea that Aries, despite being arrogant and shallow , had such an intriguing and mysterious origin that made him more than just a rich and powerful man . But to her, the difference remained clear .

While Hades remained her ideal , Aries embodied everything she despised —though she couldn’t help feeling that he was fascinating in a way she couldn’t stop exploring. In the end, the tension between her ideal love ( Hades ) and her attraction to Aries , with his money and flashy power , became the engine of both the game and her inner reflection .

The contrast between Hades and Aries reflected not only her romantic preferences , but also her view of life . Hades, with his pain , steadiness , and deep meaning , gave Izecaiyada something she had always longed for: a love with purpose , seriousness , and genuineness . Aries, on the other hand, represented everything she rejected , but still sparked a curiosity due to the power dynamic he carried.

Through the game, she realized something important: her attraction to Aries wasn’t about the character himself, but about the contrast he created with everything her real life had taught her about love and power . While Hades aligned with her values of emotional depth and self-discovery , Aries was the mirror of everything she saw as empty in the superficial world around her. What would she choose in real life ? That was still clear: Hades was the ideal love . But in the game world , where the rules were different, Aries gave her the chance to experience something unexpected .

Izecaiyada walked through the park, wearing a gray hoodie and tight jeans , a youthful style that made her look younger than she was. The look was comfortable , perfect for reflecting in peace as she strolled beneath the trees. The sun was rising , painting the falling leaves golden, and despite the calm of the place, her mind wouldn’t stop spinning over what she’d discovered in the game the night before.

Aries , the character now intriguing her so much , had everything a dating game player might want in a male lead: handsome , rich , powerful , and of course, a criminal boss with a maddening attitude. He was a black humanoid dragon , and his history with the witch protagonist had left her completely confused . They were something like a Bonnie and Clyde fantasy version—him, the charming “bad guy,” and her, the vengeful witch , using her powers to fulfill her desires. At first, Izecaiyada was taken by the mythic connection , especially since the story suggested they shared a deep bond —one that transcended time and lifetimes .

What frustrated her, though, was that even though the dragon gave the witch everything— power , riches , all the material things she could want—she still tried to kill him . Why? Why would someone so powerful, so generous, so ready to give it all… deserve that fate? It made her reflect on unfulfilled desires and expectations in real life, where sometimes even ideal love isn’t enough. The story of the witch and the dragon made her wonder if, at some point in her own life, she had also rejected something that might’ve been good for her .

“It’s like a trap,” she thought as she walked, “a vicious cycle that never ends well.”

Still, something in her felt drawn to Aries. Not just because of his looks , but also due to the mysterious strength he carried. He was someone whose attitude she couldn’t stand—but whose story she couldn’t stop thinking about. In her mind, Aries was a reflection of all she didn’t want to become—but part of her was tempted by the indomitable power he represented.

“How ironic… I’m like the witch, pushing away what secretly attracts me,” she mused with a soft, knowing smile. “But I don’t want to be that person—the one who has it all and still wants to destroy it .”

The Irony of Power, Money, and Reality

As she wandered the park, Izecaiyada couldn’t stop thinking about how fascinating Aries was in his mythical origin , especially with the idea of his black dragon transformation . His story reminded her of epic tales , sacrifices , and old legends , and she found it amusing how the game’s developers had played with those elements. But what really irritated her was how Aries, with all his superiority and arrogance , still failed to make a real connection with the protagonist during the moments that truly mattered.

What upset her most was the disconnect between his cold demeanor and what his mythical origin promised. Aries could’ve been a fantasy hero —a black dragon who once protected the witch—but here, he just felt like a power doll in a shallow relationship system. “It’s not just the arrogance,” she thought. “It’s the fact that he’s given everything , and still wants more . It’s… unbearable.”

Even so, she was surprised by the chemistry between the two characters during their battle scenes . Izecaiyada was used to fighting mechanics, but something in the way Aries fought beside her , as if they truly shared a bond , made her feel something real —something that went beyond his cocky attitude . In those fights, despite his arrogance , Aries seemed to trust her , and for some reason, she allowed herself to be carried by that feeling.

Izecaiyada sat down on a small bench and stared at the horizon. “It’s so ridiculous,” she thought. “He attracts me, but he annoys me. I know this much: Aries’s power doesn’t interest me. What I really want is something deeper , more sincere .”

To her, Aries was a symbol of strength and power , but also of loneliness . A man who, despite having everything, didn’t understand the real value of genuine connection . And for someone like her, who had lived through painful experiences , those authentic bonds mattered more than power or wealth.

She stood up again, thinking about her own life—how much she had grown and changed . She didn’t need a black dragon or an epic tale to feel complete. What she truly wanted was something real , something without empty expectations or over-the-top luxuries .

The thought of Aries as the “black dragon” faded as she walked further into the park. Her darkest memories came to the surface—moments when she had been abused as a child , part of a tragic statistic far too common in Mexico. It had been horrible . Devastating . And yes, she often wondered why it had happened to her. But over time, she realized the justice system would never bring her peace, nor would the people around her ever fully understand. Still, she had achieved something far greater: she had discovered her own resilience .

Years later, she found closure in something that felt almost cosmic —when the man who hurt her died of a sudden heart attack , less than a year after everything. “Fate did what the law couldn’t,” she often thought. She never rejoiced in anyone’s death—but it gave her a strange sense of cosmic justice , a peace that helped her finally stop carrying the pain every day.

Now, as a teacher , her life was totally different. She had learned to work with her pain and turn it into something productive . In her classes, she felt empathetic toward young people who, like her, were trying to overcome hard situations . Over time, she had found a way to heal , to rebuild herself from the ashes , and make her story into something that could inspire others .

Chapter Text

In the distance, a group of children played in the park. Their innocent laughter made her smile. There was something in their voices that reminded her of what a happy childhood could have been for her, despite everything she had gone through. She knew that now she could look at them without anger , without the sadness of those days, because she no longer felt that pain defined her .

"No, I’m not perfect. But I’ve become something much better: someone who has learned to forgive herself."

Izecaiyada took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air as she walked slowly. She was no longer the young woman who feared that life would defeat her. Now, she was a woman who had learned to walk at her own pace , without anyone telling her what to do, without being defined by others' standards .

She stopped at a bench, and with a soft smile, gazed toward the horizon. In her heart, the feeling of inner peace she had reached was now always with her. She no longer cared what Aries represented or what others thought of her. She knew the most important thing was how she saw herself . She had found a way to protect her heart , to honor her story , to love herself despite everything . That was her true power .

Final Reflection: The Black Dragon and Izecaiyada’s Inner Journey

As Izecaiyada walked through the park’s paths, she couldn’t help but think about Aries . Despite what she thought of his arrogance , there was something mysterious and captivating about the story of the humanoid black dragon—something that sparked a kind of fascination she couldn’t extinguish. As a child, she grew up surrounded by fantastical stories about dragons — Dragonheart , The NeverEnding Story , those epic movies from the '80s and '90s that spoke of mythical creatures not just as powerful beings, but as deeply connected to emotions and destiny . As if dragons were more than animals— guardians of the soul .

"Aries is like those dragons that used to inspire wonder in the old tales," she thought, as a soft smile crossed her face. "So powerful, yet with a story that makes them more human than they appear."

Curiously, despite his arrogant attitude and overwhelming strength, something in her couldn’t help but feel a deep curiosity about Aries’s dragon form . It wasn’t just his imposing figure or his black scales glowing under the moonlight —there was something in that mythical nature that drew her in . The idea that, in his dragon form, Aries might have a different purpose , one beyond the pride of his human persona, was intriguing . "Maybe if I could see him as a dragon, everything would make more sense," she thought, almost in a whisper.

Sometimes, she imagined herself as the witch , the protagonist of the game, who for some reason, instead of rejecting the dragon, would try to understand him , to get closer in a way beyond power and violence . In that chaotic and conflicted universe, she didn’t feel the need to follow the witch’s destructive path . On the contrary, she felt the true strength lay in peace , in finding a way to coexist with the darkest parts of oneself.

"If I were her," she thought, "I wouldn’t kill him. I’d try to know the dragon, understand him, see what lies behind his power." That reflection didn’t just surprise her—it gave her a feeling of inner calm , as if she had found something more than just a fantasy. In her real life, she had faced so many challenges, so many inner battles , that the idea of trying to get along with Aries, to see something beyond his power, seemed a much more mature and balanced approach than the blind violence of the story. Maybe, just maybe, the dragon had something to teach her .

Ironically, she thought, in a game all about winning, conquering, and fighting , she couldn’t help but see Aries’s story as a sort of mirror of what she had learned in life. Instead of rejecting what seemed arrogant or shallow, she chose to meet it with empathy , to try to understand . That humanity was what she had always looked for—both in video game characters and in the real people she met. That more realistic and reflective perspective made her connect with the character on a deeper level—one beyond physical attraction or the desire for idealized love .

The Dragon, Peace, and Resilience

With the soft wind brushing her face, Izecaiyada stopped at the center of the park and looked up at the sky. The thought of Aries—and how his black dragon story resonated with her—made her reflect even more deeply on her own journey. In a way, Aries’s dragon form represented accepting her own demons : arrogance, anger, pain. The dragons that had fascinated her in childhood, like the ones in the old tales, were not just creatures of strength—they were keepers of secrets . For them, power was not enough ; they needed to be understood, accepted .

"Maybe this is what true peace means," she thought. "It’s not about destroying what I don’t understand. It’s about accepting it, understanding it, integrating it."

Throughout her life, she had fought her own dragons , those dark and painful moments that marked her. But unlike the witch in the game, Izecaiyada never sought revenge . Instead, she had learned to turn her pain into resilience . And now, with her new perspective on Aries’s story, she understood that true power didn’t lie in destruction, but in understanding .

"I am not the witch. I am the one who accepts," she whispered softly, as a gentle sigh left her lips. "I am the one who transforms darkness into something brighter."

With one last glance at the sky, she realized something crucial. In that moment, peace was no longer a wish . It was something she had finally achieved . Aries’s story—his arrogance, his power, his dragon form—was just a reflection of what she herself had accomplished by facing her past and turning it into something that made her stronger, wiser .

"And if I ever met a black dragon in real life, maybe I’d try to understand him too," she thought, smiling with a touch of nostalgia , like a child again, fascinated by the fantasy world she once dreamed of. But now, she saw it with the eyes of a woman who had found peace .

Chapter Text

Izecaiyada walked through the park, the gentle breeze brushing her face, while her thoughts dove into a sea of reflection . She had spent years accumulating a series of experiences that, together, had led her to what she now considered her inner peace . She thought about everything she had learned: her dedication to work, the knowledge gained over the years, her resilience in the face of adversity... and how, somehow, those qualities had allowed her to heal and transform into something stronger , something wiser .
“I’m like a black opal ,” she told herself. “I’ve been through so much pressure and darkness , but now I shine with my own light .”

It was an analogy that came to her mind with the image of Phosphophyllite from Houseki no Kuni . Though not exactly the same, Izecaiyada saw herself in her own growth process , especially in how Phos had to go through countless changes and transformations before reaching enlightenment . Phos had symbolically gathered seven treasures representing the journey toward spiritual balance .
Izecaiyada, although she never believed she would reach full enlightenment, felt she had collected her own treasures on her path toward inner peace—in her own way, and in a completely different form.

She knew that dedication , knowledge , and resilience formed a strong foundation in her life. But she also believed there was another, deeper component—one just as important, even if sometimes invisible to others: the divine cardinal virtues she had learned to embrace, those that represented power , wisdom , justice , and love . These were the gems she felt she had earned over time—perhaps with sacrifice , perhaps through wounds , but always with the firm certainty that these virtues are not inherited—they are earned .

“It’s funny,” she thought, “that, just like the Sea Shell and Agate Stone in Phos, these virtues are similar—but it’s like they’ve been given to me again with a different coating, representing knowledge and wisdom ... as if every time I needed them, they returned to me more polished , more clear .”

It was like a process of kintsugi , the Japanese technique of repairing broken pottery with gold , creating something new and beautiful from scars . Izecaiyada felt the same: a blend of black opal , marked by the wounds of her past but repaired by the gold of her experiences—by the wisdom acquired through each pain and victory, through every fall that made her rise even stronger.

The Kitchen, Aries, and the Dressing Test

But not everything was harmonious. As if the universe wanted to shatter her inner peace in an instant, the game placed a rather peculiar challenge in her path.
Aries had decided to make her undergo a ridiculous test in his kitchen, quickly putting everything she had gained to the test.

Izecaiyada had already learned that cooking was one of her strengths. She held five technical diplomas , including: tailoring, culinary arts, computer science, flower dehydration, and painting. An arsenal of knowledge not many could boast about. But in this case, the challenge seemed simple: Aries was preparing a green apple and lettuce salad , and he asked her to choose a dressing .

Confident in her skills as a Mexican chef , Izecaiyada thought, “This is going to be a piece of cake!”
But as she turned to see the jars, frustration overtook her when she saw that none of them had labels .
Immediate anger was inevitable:
“How can they ask me to choose something when I have no idea what I’m picking?!”

Despite all her culinary wisdom , this test felt like a bad joke .
She decided to try the first one: the dressing turned out to be so spicy that she couldn’t help but frown.
“This tastes awful! What kind of joke is this?” she grumbled, noticing Aries coughing slightly as his face turned red.

But Aries , with his usual arrogance and smugness, was quick to comment:
“I’d give this to my enemies to eat. And by the way, this isn’t for you—it’s for me. What are you waiting for?”

Izecaiyada felt her patience snap . It was as if the universe were mocking her—as if everything she had learned and worked for was meaningless in this absurd test.
Then she noticed some dressing on a lid nearby and laughed mischievously to herself—
“I’m going to smear this on his face!” she thought, as her frustration turned into playful revenge .

The result was a small comedy : in a burst of anger , Izecaiyada decided to smear the dressing on Aries’ face.
But what she didn’t expect was that Aries, in typical arrogant fashion, would catch her hand and, in a surprising twist, make her put the dressing in her mouth .
“No food goes to waste,” he said with that tone that drove her crazy , walking away to the terrace as if nothing had happened.

Izecaiyada squealed in indignation , like a frustrated child , kicking her bed back in reality, pillow in her arms, her mind bursting with rage and confusion .
“This is so annoying!” she thought, exasperated.

In the end, she reflected on the three dressing options she had tried (sour, spicy seasoning, and salad coloring).
Upon further meditation, she realized the jars were filled with Miguelito (that mix of chili, salt, and sugar she so loved in her Mexican culture ).
It gave Izecaiyada a bitter laugh:
“This combo is like what they’d give me in any snack shop !”

The Mexican Touch: The Mango Theory and Revenge

In her final reflection, Izecaiyada thought that if she were truly in the game, she would have taken control of the situation differently.
If Aries thought he’d won with his arrogant behavior, she was ready to strike back .

What if, instead of being consumed by her anger, she owned the moment with a Mexican twist of revenge?

She imagined peeling a mango , knife in hand , and coating it in Miguelito , that iconic Mexican chili powder .
She would hold it up and offer it to Aries with a mischievous smile , just to see his reaction to the spicy taste .
“If he’s going to play with me, I’m going to play too,” she thought.

And there, in that moment of absurdity and frustration, she realized something important:
Life is full of nonsensical tests, unfair moments, and situations that make no sense.

However, not everything in the world can be controlled .
What she could control was her reaction .

In some way, the game had taught her a lesson:
True inner peace doesn’t only come from dedication, wisdom, and resilience.
Sometimes, peace comes when you learn to laugh, to play with the absurd, and to take control, even in the most chaotic of circumstances.

Izecaiyada smiled , and with this new perspective , she got up for a snack—more at peace than ever, but ready to face whatever Aries might throw at her next.

Chapter Text

That night, Isecayiada logged into her game; the name of her account appeared. "Beatriz" lay back on her bed, physically and emotionally exhausted after the intense scene with Aries . She had been thinking about the absurd comedy in the kitchen, her frustration over not being able to choose a dressing , and her impulsive reaction of smearing the dressing on Aries’s face. While her body relaxed under the sheets, her mind couldn’t fully calm down. The echo of her anger still resonated within her, as if the kitchen scene kept replaying in her head.

But then, in the midst of the internal chaos, "Beatriz" began to reflect on the meaning of the name she had chosen for her character in the game—something that had always brought her comfort. In every virtual world she immersed herself in, her name was always the same: Beatriz . The reason behind that choice was quite simple, yet profound: the meaning . Beatriz was a name of noble origin, translated as “the one who brings happiness” or “the one who makes happy.” When she first discovered this, it felt like she had found an emotional anchor in a world full of chaos and rapid decisions.

Moreover, choosing that name was a statement of identity, a way to mark her presence in those universes without compromising her safety . “I’d never use my real name in any of my accounts,” she thought. She knew that in the vast digital world, names held power , and she preferred to hide her true identity to avoid tracking or spells that could alter her real life.

At home, Beatriz’s family had adopted a curious and, to her, somewhat fun dynamic. Her siblings also used fictitious names in all their game profiles. It was like an inside joke, where they called each other by their virtual names and referred to themselves as alter egos they created in each game or online platform. Beatriz found it amusing how they reaffirmed their identities within the virtual space while the family simultaneously took precautionary measures . If anyone ever asked them something personal online, they always knew how to protect themselves.

“True names have power,” she thought, “that’s why we prefer these names. That way, we avoid any kind of tracking or spell some cosmic being or entity might cast.”

There was something ironic about that custom, especially because the emotional connection within the family remained strong and alive through those virtual names. Even if no one said it aloud, Beatriz felt that those moments were essential to her bond with her siblings. It was as if through those names, everyone could be free—have an identity not tied to the expectations of the real world. But still, Beatriz never forgot how important it was to protect herself in that digital universe.

A Strange Dream: The Game Becomes Real

After the chaos in the kitchen with Aries, Beatriz turned, settling into bed, her mind on the verge of collapse. The bitter taste of frustration still pulsed in her thoughts. She couldn’t stop thinking about the humiliation of not being able to choose the dressing like a true Mexican cook, the rage caused by the arrogance of “Lucien” —whom she stubbornly continued to call “Aries” out of spite—and the lack of empathy the story seemed to have for her. All of that tangled in her head like a bomb of thoughts ready to explode.

She settled into bed, staring at the flat, white ceiling, softly lit by one of the two LED strips lining her bed. That small detail was the only thing that gave her room a hint of warmth—a space neither big nor luxurious, but practical. The floor was covered with a raised wooden platform that gave it a rustic touch, but nothing compared to what she was about to experience.

In the solitude of her room, Beatriz closed her eyes, letting the exhaustion of the day envelop her, but a thought began to take shape in her mind. A playful, defiant idea.

—If I were the protagonist … I wouldn’t be wasting time flirting with those guys... I’d make them beg. I’d make Lucien—Aries the unbearable—confess to me… playing by his own rules, just like in ‘Love is War’ ... —she thought with a mischievous smile, imagining the scene as if she had total control.

The night crept into its final hours, and Beatriz, now deep in sleep, didn’t notice how something strange began to happen. When she opened her eyes, she was no longer in her bed. She looked around, confused. The room around her was so different, so sophisticated, that for a second she thought she was still dreaming. Her mind tried to process the information, but all she could perceive was luxury . A large bed with a dark headboard, elegant curtains hanging from rods on the sides, a low bed that gave the impression of being in a palace . The walls were a deep black, almost as if they absorbed light, interrupted only by golden accents that added an air of unreachable sophistication.

—This... can’t be... —she murmured, sitting up in bed while looking around, unable to believe what she was seeing. —An unknown ceiling... is this the game world ?

“The game.” The one she had started weeks ago and had decided to install on her tablet. The Otome theme, with dark cyberpunk tones, the romances and elaborate characters—it all seemed like a fictional and controlled universe. But there she was, in a room with such luxurious details that it felt like she had crossed some kind of boundary between reality and the virtual .

The contrast was immense. She was no longer in her modest room with a white ceiling and LED lights illuminating her space. Now, she was in a place that screamed wealth, luxury, and power . A wave of adrenaline coursed through her body. Like Shinji in Eva , Beatriz understood there was no turning back. She had fallen, somehow, into that world that only existed in her fantasies. And now, she was going to be the protagonist .

Standing up, she realized she wasn’t in her bed, nor in her room. She was in a large, soft bed, surrounded by a luxury so foreign to her daily life it gave her instant vertigo. As she got up, a strange unease overtook her. It wasn’t just that the place was strange—it was that she was no longer the same.

A shiver ran down her spine when her eyes fell on her hands: delicate, with a perfect manicure . Her skin, much whiter than she remembered, almost seemed to glow under the dim light. She touched her hair and noticed how it fell softly over her back— longer than she’d ever had it. At that moment, her face appeared in front of her, reflected in a full-wall mirror . It wasn’t her face.

The reflection that stared back was a stylized version of herself: taller , with skin as pale as the characters in anime she once watched, and longer, darker hair—as if it were an extension of the fantasy itself. Her figure, slightly more refined, fit perfectly into the Otome aesthetic of the game she had installed weeks ago. It was the body of the game’s protagonist, but it didn’t feel like hers.

—This... can’t be... —she murmured, touching her face as if trying to find the Beatriz she knew. But there was nothing familiar. Anxiety gripped her; her chest filled with panic . She was trapped in a strange body , in a strange universe .

The room—with its elegant black walls, grand bed with luxury curtains hanging from the sides—felt too real , too perfect , like she was trapped in a dream or, worse, in an alternate reality . “It can’t be... this is too real...” The panic wrapped around her with each breath.

—What is happening? Is this a dream or an alternate reality? —she asked, looking at her reflection again, as if she could find answers. The only thing she noticed was a beauty mark below the lip, on the opposite side of her real face—the only feature the Appearance System had allowed her to keep. She knew it was the only thing she could add due to the restrictions related to deeply rooted beliefs about the placement of moles on the face.

With her heart racing, Beatriz tried to calm herself, but the panic kept growing. She took a deep breath, but her mind was a whirlwind. She walked with hesitant steps to the door, searching for an exit, a refuge from this feeling of depersonalization . She needed answers. She needed to understand.

Upon reaching the bathroom , she shut the door behind her and approached the sink. The sound of running water gave her a small sense of relief—but it wasn’t enough. With trembling hands, she turned on the faucet and let the water flow.

“ Five, four, three... ” she repeated to herself, dipping her hands in the cold water, trying to regain control. “ Two, one... ” Her breaths deepened, but her mind remained restless. The panic didn’t dissipate, but at least now she had some control over her body , something that allowed her to think , even if just a little.

She knew that if she didn’t control her anxiety , everything could spiral. Something within her told her that this new world—this strange and luxurious universe —was not just any game. It was more. Much more.

Just as she felt she was finally calming down, the bathroom door burst open. Beatriz flinched, quickly raising her eyes, and they met Lucien’s . The man she had started to get to know in the game—the arrogant “Aries” —stood in the doorway with a confident smile and those eyes gleaming with that typical mix of confidence and contempt he always carried.

— Beatriz! Did you like the room? —he asked teasingly, unaware of the distress she still felt.

He approached her with firm steps, ready to joke as usual, but Beatriz, still completely disoriented, couldn’t help but react instinctively . When he raised his hand to give her a playful tap on the forehead, she stepped back quickly, almost tripping on the sink. Her reaction was so sudden she didn’t even realize how far she had retreated.

Lucien stopped in his tracks, eyes widening in surprise, his smile fading for a moment. At that moment, he realized something wasn’t right.

— I’m really sorry, Beatriz. I didn’t mean to scare you, —he said in a gentler tone, stepping back to give her space.

Beatriz looked at him, embarrassed. Her body trembled slightly, and it wasn’t just panic. There was something deeper in that reaction—a mix of confusion and bewilderment she couldn’t explain. She felt like she wasn’t in control, like her body didn’t belong to her in that moment. Her fear had overflowed, and now, instead of being in her world, she was trapped in a completely different one.

—It’s... it’s just that... all this is so weird —she murmured, her voice trembling slightly as she avoided eye contact. The shame made her wish she could disappear.

Lucien, seeing her reaction, frowned, but instead of pushing further, he took a more relaxed posture. He hadn’t meant to frighten her, but something in the air had shifted.

— Take it easy, Beatriz —he said gently, stepping back again. — Do you need a moment alone? If you're uncomfortable... I can wait outside.

Beatriz nodded weakly and, without wanting to explain further, turned and locked herself back in the bathroom . Even with the door closed, the weight of confusion and shame still crushed her. The pressure in her chest didn’t lessen, and now she felt even more lost than before. The reality of what was happening enveloped her like a dense fog .

— Why am I here? —she asked in a low voice, hugging herself as if she could find comfort in that small gesture.

Chapter Text

The seriousness of the moment returned to her mind when she recalled the recent interaction with Lucien. Even though she had managed to calm down after the bathroom incident, the feeling of being trapped in that world—and even more so, in that strange body—weighed on her like a slab of stone.

After all, what the hell was going on? How had she ended up there? And what the hell did it mean to be trapped in the story of an otome game? Was this a dream , or the worst nightmare of her life?

She needed answers , but something inside her knew she had to be careful . She couldn’t just lose it and start screaming to everyone that she wasn’t the real protagonist. If she wanted to believe she could control the situation, she had to keep her composure.

With a mix of uncertainty and determination , she approached Lucien, hoping to get something that would help her understand her new role in this universe. She looked him straight in the eyes and, without beating around the bush, asked:

—“What exactly are we?”

The question left her lips with more confidence than she felt, but the tone in which Lucien responded caught her off guard.

—“Whatever you want, kitty.”

Beatriz blinked, confused by the response. It was the last thing she expected. So now he could decide what they were, on a whim? Lucien’s mix of arrogance and confidence was… irritating . Despite everything, something inside her told her to stay calm, at least for now.

Frowning, she turned around and headed to her room. She needed to be alone . She needed to think . She needed to process everything.

Once inside, the weight of confusion overwhelmed her again. She quickly began to go through the protagonist’s belongings , looking for any clue that could give her more clarity . That’s when she found the cell phone . Her fingers trembled slightly as she unlocked it, hoping to find something that would help her understand her situation. But, to her surprise, all she found were bland messages and social media posts . Among them, photo after photo of the protagonist flirting with each of the guys from the game.

—“Oh, for crying out loud…” she muttered to herself, reading some of the messages. She was furious . It didn’t seem fair . The guys in the game weren’t objects to be manipulated. In her mind, she had always believed that good men didn’t deserve to be treated that way, and the protagonist, apparently, treated them all like they were just one more option.

But Lucien… with him, things were different . His presence confused her, made her feel overwhelmed , like she didn’t know whether to run toward him or get as far away as possible. He was handsome , rich , and powerful . But it was also clear that his world was full of chaos , mafia , and a dangerous aura she had never felt so close before.

The worst part was that, despite his arrogance , there was something about Lucien that attracted her in an inexplicable way. Like when he brought her that bouquet of flowers , and instead of thanking him, she, with sarcasm as her only defense, made a comment about the local flower shop.

—“At least tell me it’s from a local florist!”

Lucien didn’t seem bothered at all. On the contrary, he smiled at her as if it were all part of a game only he understood. And that made her feel even more uncomfortable.

The climactic moment came when, after Beatriz asked for permission to return to her apartment, Lucien, with his usual cynical smile , said:
— “I'll be waiting in two days.”

Beatriz cursed herself internally . She knew that the last thing she wanted at that moment was to return to that world of luxury and complications . However, a small, treacherous voice in her head whispered that, even if she wouldn’t admit it, she knew perfectly well she would go back.

When Beatriz finally arrived at her apartment, the relief of being home quickly turned into frustration. She dropped onto her bed, covering her face with a pillow as she murmured:

— “Handsome, rich, mafioso…!” The words came out like a stream of muffled curses , drowned by the pillow. The idea of Lucien making romantic gestures drove her crazy , but she couldn’t deny that, in part, it was precisely what unsettled her so much.

She decided to focus on something more productive to distract herself. For some strange reason, she remembered that in the protagonist’s apartment there was no sewing kit , something so basic to her. That led her on an unexpected quest through the city. Traveling to less affluent areas to find something as mundane as a sewing kit reminded her how much she missed the Chinese stores back home in Mexico.

When she finally found the kit, she put it into a military-style bag she carried with her. She used the rest of the day to head to work, where she met Emil.

Emil was the kind of person who, no matter what happened, managed to calm the atmosphere around him. His youthful appearance , with slightly wavy blonde hair and crystal-blue eyes , was soothing. He always had a warm smile , one of those smiles that made others feel at ease , like nothing in the world could disturb him. He had a way of dressing that was simple but refined (when he wasn’t wearing the academy uniform): light-colored shirts that fit perfectly over his athletic build , fitted jeans , and always an elegant watch on his wrist, as if everything about him had been carefully chosen to reflect his calm personality.

Although Beatriz saw him as nothing more than a younger brother , she couldn’t help but notice how easy it was to feel at ease in his presence. Emil wasn’t the kind of person who pushed or rushed anything; his protective nature and his constant pursuit of harmony made conversations with him feel gentle and pressure-free , since Emil never insisted on romantic gestures . He listened more than he spoke , as if always choosing his words carefully before speaking. And although his sweetness was evident, Beatriz suspected that behind his calm demeanor lay an unshakable inner strength , a light that shone even in the darkest moments.

It was an especially hectic day at the academy when Emil approached Beatriz, who, for some reason, seemed more tired than usual. Emil, with his typical calm tone and kind smile, softly asked:

— “Are you okay? You look exhausted.”

Beatriz looked at him, slightly surprised by how genuinely concerned he was. Although the age difference between them was only “a few years,” Emil always seemed to possess a kind of quiet wisdom that transcended time . Beatriz felt a bit uncomfortable , not being used to someone offering her support so openly, especially without expecting anything in return.

— “I’m just… processing all this chaos, Emil,” she replied with a sigh.

Emil nodded, as if he understood more than he was willing to say. His blue eyes glowed with a kind of peaceful light as he spoke:

— “Take your time. We all need a break every now and then.”

The conversation didn’t go much further than that, but Beatriz felt a strange sense of peace simply being near him. It was a bit disconcerting how Emil seemed to have the ability to create a bubble of calm around him, as if everything else disappeared for a moment.
Thus ended her first day without Lucien.

She reflected the next day about Emil. Despite his youthful appearance , Emil possessed a special energy . Beatriz knew he could heal wounds and purify corrupted areas using his light energy . She had seen him use his powers before—with a level of precision and control that didn’t match his age. The way his energy wrapped around people, healing them or bringing them peace , reminded her of someone who, although young-looking, had lived far more than his face revealed.

At times, Beatriz would see him in the hallways of the academy (within the game), quietly observing others with a kind of serenity that felt almost inhuman . He didn’t talk much about his past, but in his eyes , there was a story no one dared to ask about.

Even though she was still confused about everything that was happening, Beatriz couldn’t help but remember her first encounter with Emil in the game. During the mission where she and the protagonist faced off against a "wander" in the form of a Wyvern , Emil had shown remarkable skill . The light emanating from his hands wasn’t just for healing—it could also be used as a powerful weapon . While the protagonist fought alongside him, Emil used his light energy to dazzle the creature, creating blinding flashes that disoriented the Wyvern just enough for them to escape.

Beatriz recalled the vivid image of Emil in action, with a focused expression as he unleashed the force of his power. There was something deeply captivating about his ability to combine a protective nature with such raw strength.

Although that moment of fighting together had been intense, Beatriz also felt strangely comfortable seeing how Emil managed to stay calm even in the most chaotic situations. There was something about him that inspired trust , as if his outer calm was backed by a much deeper inner strength.

However, what Beatriz couldn’t get out of her head was Emil’s backstory , the one she had read on the game forums . She had researched too much—she had spoiled herself —but she couldn’t help it. Emil’s story was far more complex and painful than anyone might guess just by looking at his gentle and quiet demeanor.

Emil was not just a boy with incredible power , but he also carried a huge political burden . According to the forums, Emil came from a planet that had perished. His people had found a way to extend their lives by sacrificing their princess , who used her existence to buy time while they built a ship for a quantum leap.

When they arrived on this world, their mission was to discover answers about their past, but what they didn’t expect to find was “the original protagonist.” Upon seeing her, Emil had been convinced that she was his reincarnated princess , his second chance . This had unleashed a series of events that, according to the spoilers, would turn into a dangerous obsession . Emil’s story, full of obsessive love , jealousy , and a political struggle for power, had started to influence his decisions.

The revelation that Emil, a prince from a vanished world , had so much at stake made Beatriz see him differently. She no longer saw him just as someone with healing abilities, but as a complex figure playing on a much larger board than her own.

The fact that Emil was aware of the political tension involved in his relationship with the protagonist, and how this could change the course of history, made him even more intriguing. How far was he willing to go for her? And most importantly: was Beatriz trapped in something much bigger than she had thought?

When Beatriz saw him at the end of that day at the academy, his gaze was a little more piercing . Emil hadn’t changed much in appearance: his blond , slightly wavy hair was still in place, and his blue eyes reflected that calmness he always carried. However, something in his bearing had changed. Beatriz realized that, despite his relaxed and serene exterior, there was a burden he couldn’t hide. Maybe it was the pressure of his origin, or perhaps the memories of his lost planet, but something kept him constantly on alert, as if his gentle smile was just a mask for a deeper internal battle.

“You seem thoughtful, Beatriz,” Emil commented, in a soft tone as he approached her.

Hearing his voice, Beatriz came back to reality, but her mind kept spinning with the secrets she had discovered on the forums. She knew Emil was not just a kind boy, but a man trapped in a galactic conflict that could change everything. But for now, she simply smiled casually.

“I was just thinking about everything that’s happening... and how it connects to all this,” she said, looking around to give a response that wasn’t too personal.

Emil nodded, not pressuring her. It seemed he understood her more than he let on.

“It’s complicated , but you’re not alone in this, Beatriz. You’re not.”

As Beatriz walked toward her apartment, the sun began to set, painting the sky with warm tones that almost made her forget the mental chaos she carried with her. The weight of the day’s events still pressed down on her, and as her steps echoed on the pavement, her mind wouldn’t stop spinning.

“Why does all this have to be so complicated ?” she thought, staring at the street ahead. The apartment complex buildings rose in the distance, each like an endless tower of concrete and glass . “Here I am, trapped in a story that’s not mine, playing at being a princess … and all for what? Because someone in another universe decided I should be part of this galactic mess?”

She sighed, taking a firmer step as if she could shake off those thoughts with each one. She knew she was emotionally distancing herself from everyone around her, but at the same time, she couldn’t stop thinking that she was acting like a sort of “ protection code .” She didn’t want to get involved in anything that wasn’t under her control . She didn’t want to be just another piece in a game she hadn’t chosen. She didn’t want to be anyone’s princess . No, much less of someone who had “ flirted with the entire cast.”

“I refuse to be part of this intergalactic political circus.”

She had read more than she wanted about Emil’s story and the traps of the game. On the spoiler forums , she had even found comments about his life, about the complicated political struggle he carried with him. Emil was the son of a planet that had perished , and he had had to make decisions no one else could even imagine. “Why should I carry those problems ? I don’t have the time or energy for that.” It didn’t seem fair to play with someone so marked by his destiny and history. But… Emil wasn’t like Lucien, right? He wasn’t a prince , but a mafioso . And while his peaceful nature and calm eyes gave her a certain peace, Beatriz knew she shouldn’t get too involved.

And there was Lucien, the unstoppable Aries , with his arrogant smile and overwhelming attitude . “I’m not the protagonist of this game, so why do they insist on seeing me as such?” Beatriz grumbled mentally as she leaned against one of the columns of her building. She knew it. She had to make a decision , or rather, play “ Love is War ,” like in Kaguya-sama . No false moves. No vulnerability. Not a single misstep, and definitely no showing interest.

Even though Lucien threw her off balance, made her smile , made it impossible to resist when he, with his jokes and arrogance, managed to get under her skin in unexpected ways. “No, no. None of that. I’m not falling into his game. Or maybe… just a little…”

“I’ll wait for you in two days,” he said in their last conversation, and Beatriz had heard it with the tone of someone who doesn’t take no for an answer. But she… she knew how to handle that. She knew how to keep emotional distance . And although she wouldn’t admit it, something inside her said she couldn’t resist the rules of her own war game . A game that, without realizing it, she was beginning to enjoy.

As Beatriz climbed the stairs to her apartment, she wondered again why the universe had decided to give her this second chance, if all she wanted was a quiet life . “You see, the universe always has something planned, but for me, I wish I had just stayed in Mexico . Although, with its potholes and Arab meat tacos…” she thought, smiling slightly, as if that little comfort could soothe the internal storm that troubled her.

Despite her efforts to stay away from all this intergalactic drama , a small spark of doubt had started to ignite inside her. “Lucien doesn’t have hidden agendas … And that bothers me more than anything else.” Because, no matter how much she hated him, something about his sincerity attracted her. And that… was not something Beatriz could easily accept.

“No… I’m not going to let myself get caught in his game,” she whispered to herself, closing the door behind her.

However, she knew that thought wasn’t very solid. After all, the kind of “game ” Lucien proposed, although dangerous , was completely different from what she had imagined. Maybe that was the problem. She no longer knew what to expect , but what she did know was that her peace, the one she longed for so much, was no longer so close.

“Why can’t I stop thinking about him ? About all of them?”

Perhaps she was deceiving herself, but for Beatriz, being realistic about the world she now inhabited meant keeping her distance . After all, she had something bigger to protect: her mental peace .
“So, I better stay away. Being trapped in a story of love and intergalactic politics is not part of my plans.”

With one last look at her phone , where Lucien had left a casual message confirming their meeting, Beatriz collapsed onto her bed.
“And then there’s Emil… But that, I really don’t want to touch.” Emil’s political struggle, the sacrifices of his people, the pain and losses he carried… all of that left her thoughtful, but even more determined not to get involved . After all, if she hadn’t wanted to get involved in politics on Earth, she was even less likely to do it in this universe.

Beatriz couldn’t stop thinking about Lucien as she walked down the stairs of the building, watching the night sky through the gaps. The name Sirius came to mind every time he appeared. It wasn’t just the name of a distant star, but a constant reminder of the disconnection she felt toward others, including herself. Lucien, like that star, was bright , but distant—both in body and soul.

Sometimes, Beatriz wondered if he himself felt that distance . She knew Lucien had his own story , something much bigger than anything she could understand. In fact, in one of the few times she had read the forums, Lucien’s fans had mentioned in a somber tone that his life was " marked by a cycle he hadn’t chosen."

But like Sirius, Lucien’s soul shone brightly, yet was trapped in an empty, distant space . The curse surrounding him had not only stripped him of a true life but had also turned him into a specter—someone who could be admired from afar but never fully reached.

After her hectic day of deep thoughts, Beatriz received a call from Emil while she was in her apartment. He invited her to go out to the roof of the building to watch the stars. She, a bit surprised but intrigued, accepted.

Emil, with a calm voice — “Beatriz? I was thinking… would you like to go watch the stars? There’s a spot on the roof of the other building where the view is incredible, and the night is clear. Maybe it’ll help you disconnect a bit.”

Beatriz, looking at the roof of her apartment, taking a breath — “Well, I don’t have much to do… Why not? I’m a little tired of being inside all the time.”

[Both hang up, and Beatriz climbs to the roof of the other building, finding Emil looking up at the sky.]

“— I was just thinking about how far some things are… you know, the stars.”
Beatriz looked up, observing the lights shining in the sky. The stars seemed so close , but she knew they were really unreachable.

“— Distance, huh?” Emil followed her gaze, interested but without asking too many questions.
“Sometimes I think stars are like people. They shine so intensely, but they’re so far that not even a telescope could get close enough.”

Beatriz, thoughtful — “It’s curious how something so bright can feel so unreachable .”
She sighed lightly, speaking aloud.
“Sometimes I feel there are things you just can’t reach, no matter how hard you try.”

Emil, smiling kindly — “You know? Sometimes it’s better not to try to reach them. Just observe and learn to admire them from afar, without expecting them to come closer.”

“— I think you’re right… Maybe some things have to stay where they are, even if it’s hard to accept.”
Beatriz fell silent for a moment, reflecting.
“It’s just that sometimes, I don’t know if that’s enough for me.”

Emil, with a calm tone — “It’s difficult, but maybe the important thing is to learn to be at peace with what you can’t control. What you can’t reach… is just part of the path.”

Beatriz looked at him, noticing the serenity on his face. She couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of comfort from his words, even though she knew there was still much she didn’t understand. The sky was calm, and she also felt a fleeting peace, although something told her that peace wouldn’t last long.

Beatriz, smiling softly — “Thank you, Emil. I think I needed to hear that.”

Emil, offering a slight smile — “You’re welcome. Being here, watching the stars, reminds us that there’s always something beyond. Sometimes it’s good to just go with what is, without pressuring yourself too much to understand everything.”

Both remained silent for a few minutes, gazing at the stars . There were no more words, just the calmness of sharing a simple yet meaningful moment.

After two days , Beatriz returned to Lucien’s house , bringing along homework to do while she was there. She opted for more mundane tasks instead of exercise, which she didn’t plan to do with Lucien nearby. While studying, something curious happened: one of Lucien’s jackets lost a button . Beatriz, taking advantage of her sewing skills , offered to fix it.

After sewing the button, she confidently headed to Lucien’s room . She knocked three times , as she had been taught at home, and opened the door—without expecting him to be just out of the shower , barely wrapped in a towel . Their eyes met intensely.

Beatriz, far from feeling uncomfortable, burst out laughing . She was used to seeing her brothers and father in similar situations, so the scene didn’t faze her. What did amuse her was noticing that Lucien “ wasn’t wearing sandals” when he entered the bathroom.

— “I just wanted to leave you the jacket. The button’s fixed,” she said between laughs. She quickly excused herself and, still laughing, went back to her work.

Lucien, caught off guard, didn’t know how to react. It wasn’t the response he expected, but something about Beatriz’s naturalness intrigued him. From that day, she began to feel more comfortable in his house, and the relationship between them started to improve.

The Challenge

Lucien was leaning against the doorframe , watching Beatriz as she worked on one of the mundane tasks she had brought with her. The sound of the pen sliding across the paper filled the silence, but something in the atmosphere between them had changed since she came back. It wasn't the same kind of awkwardness that had marked their first encounters. Now there was a subtle tension , a kind of attraction and challenge hanging in the air.

—“Don’t you get tired of doing such… boring things?” Lucien asked, his tone full of that usual arrogance. His gaze was fixed on Beatriz, as if he wanted her to stop what she was doing and pay attention to him.

Beatriz looked up for a moment, said nothing, and went back to her work. “I’m not here to please him,” she thought, but something inside her knew that Lucien wouldn’t leave her alone so easily.

—“Not all of us are made for fighting, Lucien. Not all of us need to prove we’re strong or invincible ,” she replied, not raising her voice, but with a firmness meant to make her stance clear.

Lucien smiled—that challenging smile that immediately put her on alert.

—“Do you think I’m the kind of person who settles for that?” He walked toward her with slow, confident steps, as if he didn’t care that she was busy. —“If you want to survive here, you’ll need to do more than read books and sew buttons, Beatriz.”

Beatriz set her pen down on the table, feeling her pulse quicken at Lucien’s words. She knew what he meant, but she still wasn’t sure if she wanted to face that kind of challenge . The world she was now trapped in was so different, so dangerous , and she still felt like a stranger in it.

—“What are you suggesting?” she asked, a mix of weariness and confusion in her voice as she stood from her chair and gave him a defiant look.

Lucien stopped in front of her, so close she could almost feel the heat radiating from his body. His red eyes shone with renewed intensity.

—“I challenge you to train with me ,” he said, voice deep and confident. “Let’s see if you can handle it. If you don’t, you’ll never know if you’ve got what it takes to survive in this world—or in this game, if that’s what you want to call it.”

Beatriz frowned. The idea of training with him, of physically facing Lucien, made her uneasy—but something inside her rebelled against the idea of being intimidated. She knew this world would demand more than she had imagined if she wanted to find a way out—or at least understand what was really happening.

—“And what if I don’t want to?” she replied, raising an eyebrow and trying to stay calm.

Lucien shrugged, as if it didn’t matter whether she accepted or not—but the smirk on his face showed he knew exactly how to push her buttons.

—“It’s up to you. But remember—every time you run away from me, a part of this game will slip through your fingers. And I happen to enjoy seeing how far you can go.” He stepped back, watching her closely, measuring her response.

Beatriz stared at him, trying to figure out what was behind this challenge. Was he trying to control her? Or was he genuinely interested in seeing how she would evolve? The answer wasn’t clear, but something inside her pushed her forward.

—“I’ll do it,” she said at last, voice steady—even as her mind raced, still unsure what this would mean.

Lucien raised an eyebrow, surprised by how quickly she answered, but his face showed nothing but satisfaction.

—“Perfect. But I’m warning you, kitten… it’s not going to be easy. Get ready for what’s coming.”

Beatriz stared back without flinching. Something inside her had been ignited , though she still didn’t know whether it was anger , fear, or something else.

—“We’ll see who gets tired first,” she replied, with a smile she couldn’t quite suppress.

Lucien watched her for a moment, evaluating her words. She seemed… changed. And though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, that intrigued him even more. The training would begin—but so would something far more complicated: his own fascination with her.

Chapter Text

Beatriz put on her training clothes with a mix of anxiety and determination . On the outside, she tried to keep her composure, but deep down, she knew this wasn't what she had imagined. Lucien was already in the center of the gym, arms crossed, watching her with that mocking smile that irritated her so much.

—Come on, kitty —he said in a condescending tone —, you won’t learn anything if you don’t take this seriously.

Beatriz took a deep breath and stepped closer. She tried not to show her discomfort as she got ready for the first strike. Lucien held out his arms, inviting her to hit his wrists.

—Is that all you’ve got? —he said, almost laughing as he watched her.

Beatriz, her face expressionless, tried not to let it affect her. But her blows— soft and calculated —felt almost harmless to him. The way he mocked her , like she was just a toy , made her feel small , like a child who had never learned to fight. The stress began building inside her, pressure she didn’t know how to release.

—Is that the best you can do? —Lucien said, now with an arrogant grin . —I thought you’d give me more of a challenge.

Beatriz’s expression hardened. She tried not to show how she felt, but a knot started forming in her chest. The memories of being seen as some sort of freak for her strength in the past were coming back. She had never been welcomed in the world of sports, and now Lucien's teasing made her feel like that rejected little girl all over again.

The atmosphere grew heavier , and even though she tried not to show it, Beatriz felt her strength crumbling. Shadows from her past stirred in the corners of her mind. Suddenly, a wave of frustration crashed over her, and in a burst of irritation, she gritted her teeth.

Lucien, sensing he was pushing her too fast , threw her a more direct challenge:

—Come on, can’t you throw a real punch? If you’re as strong as you claim, prove it.

Those words made one thing clear: Beatriz was at the edge of her patience. Something inside her snapped , and without thinking, she closed her eyes for a moment. It was as if the gym faded away. The training, the mockery, the pressure… everything blurred beneath the clarity of what she had to do.

 🎵  Final Fantasy VII - Let The Battles Begin! (Piano Version)   🎵

Instinctively , images of the fights she’d seen in video games began to flow through her mind . A strange energy wrapped around her, and when she opened her eyes, they burned with a new intensity. Her pupils narrowed, and in a soft, nearly inaudible whisper, she said:

— Tifa Lockhart.

Lucien didn’t get the reference, but something in her eyes shifted. He didn’t recognize her anymore. Her movements suddenly felt natural , as if she was connected to something beyond her own thoughts. It was like her body responded differently , more efficiently . The blow she threw at Lucien was no longer soft or predictable—it was fast , precise , and backed by an unstoppable force .

Suddenly, Beatriz was no longer just a girl trying to train. She was someone with a hidden ability she hadn’t expected to unlock. Her senses sharpened , and her body seemed to sync with the energy coursing through her veins. The punch she delivered was so powerful that Lucien had to step back, visibly surprised .

—What… what was that? —he asked, staring at her with a mix of awe and confusion .

In her mind, Beatriz felt she had crossed a line . The power inside her had changed her , and the mode she’d activated—similar to the "SEED mode" from Gundam SEED —wrapped her in a state of controlled fury . Her muscles tensed, and without hesitation, she took a combat stance , ready for whatever came next.

Lucien watched her in silence, now with a spark of curiosity and respect . Beatriz was no longer just the girl trying to fit in . There was something else inside her now, something he hadn’t anticipated.

The fight between them had just taken a completely different turn.

Beauty and the Beast

Beatriz, already immersed in the mode she had activated without thinking, began to move with unexpected precision . The memories of video games and fights she had watched fused in her mind, and each movement felt more like a choreography than a battle. When Lucien tried to strike, Beatriz dodged effortlessly, as if she had already anticipated his moves.

— Left side, —she whispered to herself, focused.

With a graceful motion , she allowed him to strike from that angle, but instead of defending, she stepped forward with a quick spin. In the blink of an eye, her hands moved like she was conducting a dance , landing blows on Lucien’s pressure points with deadly precision.

— Strike first, strike hard, no mercy… —she murmured, almost like a mantra. The phrase from Cobra Kai echoed in her mind, but what had begun as a simple training match was now turning into something far darker .

With a single hit, Lucien was forced to retreat, his left arm immobilized . Beatriz, feeling the fury inside her growing, acted on pure instinct. With two swift movements, she struck additional pressure points , leaving him disoriented and paralyzed . The gym filled with the sound of blows, but Beatriz didn’t stop. Without thinking, she launched a Tifa Lockhart-style spinning kick , both legs striking Lucien with overwhelming force.

Lucien hit the ground, unable to move from the pain and pressure in the areas she had targeted. Beatriz, in a moment of clarity , looked down at her trembling hands , and suddenly stopped. The feeling of having him at her mercy, completely helpless , made the fury inside her begin to crumble . She couldn’t keep hitting him. Something inside her held back.

She remembered that she didn't hate him. She didn’t want to hurt him. She wanted to understand him—as a player , as a person . The idea of continuing felt absurd , and a wave of guilt hit her. She looked at her fallen opponent and, as she raised her arm for one final strike to the face, her humanity stopped her. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to .

The restraint was automatic. In that instant, she stepped back, stumbling slightly. In a whisper, barely audible, she muttered:

— I’m sorry…

🎵 Valkyrie Profile 2: Silmeria OST - Movement of Distorted Causality 🎵

But anxiety and nervousness overwhelmed her completely. Cold sweat broke out on her forehead. She was hyperventilating , trying to pull herself together. The exhaustion , both physical and emotional, started to weigh her down. The frustration was palpable, but she couldn’t stay there. She couldn’t see Lucien as a true enemy —not entirely.

Without thinking, she stepped back, slapped her own cheek , letting the shame and tension flood her, her cheek flushing red from the blow. Without looking back, she turned, nearly tripping as she rushed out of the gym.

She ran like her life depended on it, until she reached her locker. She changed quickly , and with a broken sigh, tried to calm down , but her mind wouldn’t allow it. Her body , her thoughts , everything was saturated with emotions she had no idea how to manage.

— I don’t know what’s happening to me… —she whispered. Without thinking, she spun around and started running for the exit . The echoes of her rushed breathing filled the hallway. Every step, every breath, was a visceral reaction to the chaos inside her. The gym lights faded from view, but the weight of what she had done still burned in her chest .

Beatriz couldn’t afford to look back. She just wanted to leave it all behind .

She reached Lucien’s apartment, but didn’t stop. With a speed even she didn’t understand, she ran to the stairs, descending without looking, like she wanted to escape from herself . Her feet barely touched the steps while her mind raced , replaying every second of what had happened—every word, every gesture, every silence.

Outside the building, she kept running. The city lights shone around her, but everything felt distant , as if she were trapped in a bubble of confusion . The sensation of being in control of the fight, only to lose emotional control , was overwhelming .

Finally, she reached her home, legs shaking, heart pounding. She didn’t bother to close the door. She just stepped in and collapsed onto the couch . A sob escaped her lips before she could stop it. Then another. And another.

The weight of the situation fully broke her. Emotions she had bottled up for so long finally shattered the walls of her control. Tears flowed freely as she hugged herself, seeking comfort in her own fragility .

— I can’t… —she whispered through sobs, feeling the pressure in her chest become unbearable.

She had been suppressing everything for too long—her fears , her insecurities , her dread of what she could become, and what she had just done. The chaos within her didn’t come just from the fight, but from everything her mind still couldn’t understand.

Alone, with no one around, Beatriz finally let herself break . The tears washed over her like a storm, each drop a small release. But she knew this wasn’t the end.

It was only the beginning of something far greater —something she still couldn’t name.

Chapter Text

Her entire body was tense, but what hurt the most was the feeling of having crossed an invisible line —something she had sworn never to do again: to use those abilities . The very ones she had perfected through years of sacrifice , which now brought more pain than pride.

After a while, she forced herself to get up. "I can’t just stay like this," she thought, trying to focus on something more tangible. She stepped into the shower, letting the hot water run down her body, trying to wash away not only the sweat from the fight but also the emotional weight crushing her.

A fleeting thought led her to the idea of regaining strength with something as simple as bread . She went out into the streets wearing a cap, sunglasses , and a face mask covering her face. Even though she knew such precautions were unnecessary, the idea that someone might recognize her and ask what had happened was unbearable.

She walked into the nearest bakery and asked for a baguette . “Grief is lighter with bread,” she murmured to herself, remembering her mother’s words . She clutched the paper bag like a lifeline and began walking down the empty streets.

As she nibbled the bread, her mind couldn’t stop analyzing what had happened. It had been so long since she had used those movements , since she had felt that fluid precision in her body. It reminded her of the days when she trained obsessively , perfecting each technique with a mix of visualization and physical practice . And yet, she had promised herself never to rely on it again. The last time she did, the cost had been too high.

Her thoughts paused briefly on Lucien . She had seen the fear in his eyes, the confusion , the doubt . She couldn’t blame him. What must he have thought, seeing someone so young, so seemingly harmless, defeat him with such meticulous precision? But what weighed on her most was her own reaction : the instinct to stop before truly hurting him, the guilt that had driven her to flee.

"What am I doing?" she asked herself as she finished the last piece of bread. She sat on a bench, hugging her knees. She had spent too long hiding who she was , too long burying that part of her she was afraid to let out. And now, in an instant, it had all resurfaced.

But she also knew this was just the beginning . Something inside her was stirring, awakening , and though she tried to deny it, a part of Beatriz knew she couldn’t keep running forever.

After returning home with her heart still racing and her nerves frayed, Beatriz tried to calm herself. Still, the possibility of retaliation from Lucien haunted her. "I hit the wrong guy... now what?" she thought, feeling the air grow heavy around her.

With her mind restless and her body exhausted, she made an impulsive decision: to request a few days off work. She sat at her desk, grabbed her phone, and dialed her supervisor’s number. Taking a deep breath, she used all her theatrical skill to feign a broken voice:

—“Hi... cough, cough ... This is Beatriz. I’m not feeling well, I think... ugh, I need to rest for a couple of days. I’m sure I’ll be better in three days.”

—“Oh, of course, Beatriz. Take your time. I hope you recover soon.”

She hung up with a sigh of relief. “Good, now at least I have three days to figure out what to do.”

But the feeling of insecurity didn’t go away. She remembered how Lucien had fallen to the floor, how she had humiliated him in his own gym. Even if no one knew her true identity , Beatriz couldn’t ignore that Lucien was far more dangerous than he appeared. And if he decided to come after her—what would she do?

She looked around her small apartment, instinctively searching for a place where she could feel safer. The bed felt too exposed . “No... I need something more closed in, something that makes me feel protected.” Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on the closet .

Without hesitation, she started looking for something to hide in . She searched every corner of the apartment but found nothing but a large plastic box she had bought long ago to store books. She emptied it in a corner and dragged it to the closet.

She climbed inside, hugging her knees and pulling a blanket over the box as if it could somehow offer greater protection. She closed the closet doors and sat in silence, listening to every noise outside. Her breathing was slow, held back, as if even that could betray her presence.

Exhaustion finally overtook her, and Beatriz fell asleep inside the box, in the darkness of the closet. As uncomfortable as it was, something about that closed space gave her the sense of security she so desperately needed.

What she didn’t know was that while she sought protection , Lucien wasn’t thinking of revenge —at least not in the way she imagined. Somewhere in the city, the man replayed the events in his mind, surprised by the strength and precision that woman had shown. A part of him was, of course, humiliated —but another part... was intrigued .

Beatriz had no idea how much time had passed. She only remembered getting inside the plastic box in the closet, wrapped in the blanket, her heart still pounding. “Just for a moment, until I calm down,” she had told herself—but her physical and emotional exhaustion pulled her into sleep before she could reconsider.

She had completely shut off her phone, tossing it carelessly onto the bed. She didn’t want any interruptions , no calls , not even the faintest noise that might give away her hiding place. All she wanted was to disappear .

When she finally woke up, her body was stiff, and her mouth dry like the desert. She staggered out of the box, disoriented. She looked at the wall clock and her stomach dropped: three full days had passed. Three days in which no one had heard from her.

She stumbled to the bathroom, turned on the shower, and let the cold water fall on her body, trying to clear her mind. “How come no one came looking for me?” she thought. But she knew: everyone assumed she was just sick , and her convincing performance on the phone had done the rest.

As the water poured down, the weight of the past few days hit her like a punch. She had faced someone far more dangerous than she imagined, and now she had no idea what Lucien might do next.

The cold water struck her like a slap , snapping her fully awake. As she washed her hair, she thought about Lucien—his dangerous gaze , the blow she had landed on him. She knew a man like him wouldn’t forget something like that easily.

When she stepped out of the shower, her reflection in the mirror showed pale cheeks and soaking wet hair . Wrapped in a towel, she tied up her hair with another and rushed to get dressed. As always, she changed in the bathroom, away from any possible intrusion . It was such a deeply ingrained habit that she didn’t even question it.

She opened the door cautiously, making sure the apartment was quiet before stepping out. She walked toward the kitchen, still with the towel around her head, but something stopped her in her tracks. The air felt dense , almost suffocating , and a faint reddish glow flickered in the center of the room.

Her heart skipped a beat.

The air in the room began to change, growing heavier . A thin cloud of red and black particles appeared in the center of the room, slowly spinning like a vortex. Beatriz turned around just in time to see the cloud morph into a human figure .

Lucien was there, standing with arms crossed and an expression that blended amusement with irritation .

—“You know, it’s pretty hard to find someone who literally vanishes off the map for three days,” he said in a calm voice, though a latent threat lingered in his tone.

Beatriz froze. Her mind raced, debating whether to run, scream, or confront him. But before she could react, Lucien raised a hand, signaling that he wouldn’t come any closer.

—“Relax. I didn’t come to hurt you. I just want answers .”

She took a step back, clutching the towel around her hair tightly.

—“Answers? After what happened? What did you expect—a hug ?”

Lucien let out a dry, low chuckle.

—“No. But I also didn’t expect someone like you to be able to take me down .” His eyes gleamed with more than curiosity, as if evaluating her.

The silence between them was tense, like a rope about to snap. Beatriz felt her heart racing again, but it wasn’t just fear. There was something in the way Lucien looked at her—something that made her feel exposed , like he could see through her entire facade .

—“I don’t know what kind of trick you used, but…” Lucien stepped closer, the air around him buzzing with contained energy —“There’s something about you, and I want to know what it is.”

Beatriz clenched her jaw, trying to hide her fear.

—“And what if I don’t want to tell you anything?”

Lucien smiled—a dangerous smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

—“Then you’ll just have to live with the uncertainty of when I’ll show up again. Because believe me, this isn’t over.”

And with that, his body began to fade once more into red smoke , leaving the apartment just as quiet as before—but now filled with uncertainty , and one clear question echoing in Beatriz’s mind:

“What does he really want from me?”

Emil’s Pain

The next day, Beatriz was walking down the hallway of the academy, but her mind wasn’t in the present. What caught her attention like a bolt of lightning was the image of Emil —so dim and distant, with an empty gaze, as if he wasn’t really there anymore.

It was a gray and cold day, like all those that come before a storm. Beatriz had only recently arrived in this new world and still “didn’t know Emil very well,” but there was something about his energy—or rather, the lack of it—that made her suspicious. She knew something was wrong with him. An instinctive feeling, like the premonition of a Pisces when calm waters suddenly turn dangerous, told her she needed to follow him.

It was as if Emil were fading from reality .

That day, he had been so quiet, almost absent, but Beatriz knew that wasn’t like him. It wasn’t the indifference of someone simply having a bad day; there was something deeper, darker in his eyes , like he was falling apart inside. With a knot in her stomach, she decided she couldn’t leave him alone—and she followed him.

She found him in a small meadow hidden within the forest just outside the academy, a place almost no one knew about. He was standing there, right in the middle of the clearing, his gaze fixed on an invisible point, breathing slowly, but with such an overwhelming sense of emptiness that Beatriz could feel it even from a distance.

What struck her the most was his energy —it was almost completely drained, like he had been pouring out everything he had, down to his last reserve. Something didn’t add up. Emil wasn’t someone who let himself be swept away by despair. He was calm, calculating—but now, he seemed shattered, lost .

She approached him carefully, quietly, but enough to make it known that he wasn’t alone. That’s when Emil, as if he had heard her thoughts, took a step back and looked at her, his eyes reflecting deep melancholy .

—“Beatriz…”—he whispered, his voice so faint she barely heard it.

Without her asking, Emil began to explain—almost in a murmur—what had been tormenting him. The truth he had been hiding, the weight that was crushing him, everything he had kept to himself for so long. He was a prince of a world doomed to destruction .

—“My world… is already destined to collapse. There’s no way to prevent it. The only way to save it is... through sacrifice . And I… I can’t do it.” —Emil closed his eyes with a pained expression— “I’ve tried so many times. I’ve failed every time. And time just keeps repeating itself. I’ve spent 242 years reliving the same cycle. Every time… every time I protect the same person, only for everything to end in disaster again.”

Beatriz looked at him in silence, her heart aching from the sorrow and suffering Emil carried. She didn’t understand everything completely, but she could feel the pressure of his pain, the agony of someone burdened far beyond what any one person should bear. She knew Emil’s mind—so logical and analytical—couldn’t withstand that level of anguish.

Suddenly, Emil began to sway, dropping to his knees on the grass, and Beatriz felt his energy collapse even more. His body began to emit an unstable, almost destructive vibration . Something inside him was about to break completely. The pressure, the stress—everything he had been suppressing for so long—was about to make his own “Evol” power destabilize.

Beatriz didn’t hesitate for even a second. She knew what she had to do. Without thinking, she stepped forward, reaching out her hands to his chest almost instinctively, trying to calm him.

—“Emil… please. Don’t give in to this.” Her voice came out firmer than she expected, but her words were an anchor in a sea of despair .

Emil looked at her with glassy eyes, unable to reply. The void inside him was dragging him down, pulling him toward an abyss with no return. But Beatriz wouldn’t let him go. She couldn’t.

There was something inside her she had never thought to use in moments like this. At that moment, she remembered something she had seen in the story of the original protagonist: the “interdimensional rift,” a source of immense power. Beatriz knew she couldn’t give all of herself without risking her own life, but if she could give him even a little of that energy—maybe she could save him, calm his mind just enough to pull him out of that destructive trance.

With a clear mental image, she felt the energy of the rift she had previously absorbed activate. It was an impulsive act—but filled with sincere kindness. Beatriz placed her hand on Emil’s chest and closed her eyes. In that moment, she transmitted almost all the energy from the interdimensional rift , using her power and experience to channel it through him. She knew it might help stabilize him—but it was also risky. She had no idea how much her power would affect Emil, but she had no other choice.

The light that surrounded Emil was soft, but intense. For a few seconds, it seemed as though all of Emil’s pain faded away , as if the weight of his years of suffering was starting to lift. The vibrations of his power stabilized, and his body stopped trembling.

Finally, Emil opened his eyes. Though his pupils still reflected an inner struggle, something was different. A fragile calm had replaced the storm within.

Beatriz took a deep breath, feeling the connection between them. She smiled softly, but her words were serious and full of compassion.

—“Emil, that’s enough. No more battles for now. You need time to think, to heal. I’m going to help you—but you need to step away from all this for a while. I’m transferring you to the research division . I owe you that. And you owe me the chance to help you.”

Emil didn’t speak at first, but in his eyes, a small spark of gratitude appeared, as if he finally saw a way out—even if just a faint one.

—“Thank you… Beatriz,” he said, his voice now much more stable.

Beatriz looked at him for a long moment before continuing.

—“Take a break, Emil. Think about what you want now. You don’t have to carry everything alone. I’ll be here.”

With that simple gesture, something changed. Emil agreed to step away from combat for a while and join the scientific department , where his skills would be equally valuable—without the pressure of facing his destiny head-on. Beatriz knew that decision would be crucial for his wellbeing. Without realizing it, her act of kindness had opened an entirely new channel—one Emil had never experienced before. A channel that had the potential to turn his possessive, protective love into something purer, something deeper.

The Frustration of Miguel Ángel

Two days passed uneventfully until a message pulled Beatriz out of her "new routine." It was from Miguel Ángel. He was asking her to come immediately —he didn’t know what to do about his creative block .

Beatriz arrived at Miguel Ángel’s studio with the feeling that today would be different. As a teacher, she knew her role in her students’ lives was crucial, but with Miguel Ángel, the relationship had more complex shades. He was her bodyguard, yes, but also an artist with great potential —a uniquely sensitive soul Beatriz had come to appreciate, even if she resisted getting too close.

Miguel Ángel was a Pisces , which meant his emotions often took control, and that always showed in his work. She knew, as with any Pisces, that he had creative highs and lows —and today was clearly one of the lows.

Upon entering the studio, Beatriz found exactly what she had imagined: half-finished canvases everywhere, brushes in disarray, and a heavy atmosphere. Miguel Ángel sat in front of a blank canvas, his expression one of deep frustration, like he was throwing an internal tantrum. The remnants of a long, unproductive day were scattered on the floor and walls, and his face was pure discomfort.

—Everything okay? —Beatriz asked, approaching with a calm smile that had just a hint of mischief.

Miguel Ángel looked up, momentarily confused, but quickly recognized her presence. A sigh slipped from his lips.

—I think I’ve got a horrible creative block. Nothing’s working today —he said with a melancholic tone, as if his art were mirroring his emotional state.

Beatriz leaned over the table, eyeing the blank canvas and the brushes around him. She knew these blocks weren’t just artistic —in his case, there was something personal behind it, too. Sometimes, an artist’s life was so intertwined with their work that feelings and experiences became one. Still, she wasn’t about to give in to Miguel Ángel’s sadness. It was time to shake things up —and she knew just how.

—Well, Miguel, I have an exercise I found that really helps when you hit a creative wall —she said, confident that something so simple could change his perspective. —It’s not complicated, but you need to let go of the pressure.

Miguel Ángel eyed her with skepticism, but something in her tone caught his attention.

—What kind of exercise? —he asked, raising a brow.

—I want you to take a big sheet of paper, and I’ll do the same. You have 30 seconds to draw whatever comes to mind —don’t overthink it, just go with your gut. You can choose between two materials: watercolor or charcoal. When the 30 seconds are up, we’ll exchange papers. Then you’ll repeat the process using the materials I picked. Think you can handle that? —she asked with a confident smile.

Miguel Ángel frowned for a moment, uncertain. Yet something about the challenge seemed to lift a weight from his shoulders—or at least intrigue him.

—Just 30 seconds? —he laughed, almost incredulously. —This is going to be… insane.

—Believe me, it will be —Beatriz replied with a grin as she grabbed her sheet of paper. —It’s more fun than it sounds. The best results usually come when you stop thinking and just let your instincts guide you.

Miguel Ángel settled into his seat, picking up the materials with growing enthusiasm as the idea began to sink in. The heavy air of the studio started to lift, and for a moment, time slowed down. They both got to work.

The 30 seconds were a blend of laughter and intense focus —Beatriz sketching quick, expressive lines, while Miguel Ángel tried to drop the pressure and let his hands move freely. When the timer went off, they looked at each other, knowing the real challenge was just beginning.

—Done —Beatriz said, handing him her sheet without looking at it. The activity was almost like a game, but its purpose was deep: to free the mind from any block.

Miguel Ángel examined the page Beatriz had given him. What he saw in his own drawing was completely unexpected —somewhere between controlled chaos and pure release. He didn’t fully understand the logic behind the exercise, but something in his heart was beginning to get it. The challenge now was to make something meaningful , not just playful.

In the next five minutes, they continued to draw, but in a completely different way. The atmosphere lightened, as if art in its purest form was bringing them together in ways words never could. Miguel Ángel no longer felt pressured to produce a masterpiece; he allowed himself to simply enjoy the act of creating. When they both finished, they looked at their drawings. There was something special in those strokes —something that connected them without saying too much.

—This was… interesting —Miguel Ángel said, observing his work.

Beatriz nodded, a satisfied look on her face.

—See? Art doesn’t always have to be serious. Sometimes, you just have to let go.

Miguel Ángel smiled —a smile that held more than relief. The activity had worked; not only had it cleared his block, it had opened the door to a new way of seeing his own art. Beatriz had done more than free his mind —she had sparked genuine inspiration in him.

After a while, they sat in silence, contemplating the results and reflecting. Beatriz realized something important. Throughout her career, she had worked with many artists —but Miguel Ángel was special. Not just because he was her bodyguard, but because his art had the power to change the world around him. And, without meaning to, Beatriz had started to see him not just as a student, but as someone who truly could reach his dreams.

Inside, she felt a quiet pride. Not the kind tainted by rivalry or jealousy —as it sometimes happened with other colleagues. This pride was pure. She knew what it meant to give everything for a goal. She knew that despite the differences in their stories, their paths crossed in art and hard work —and that made them closer.

Miguel Ángel, however, didn’t seem to interpret Beatriz’s gesture as anything romantic, much to her relief. Their relationship was far more complex. Beatriz didn’t feel drawn to him that way, and he didn’t seem to be seeking anything beyond friendship and creative connection. In fact, she surprised herself by realizing she actually wanted to be friends with him —even if that friendship came with the weight of responsibility over his safety.

—Thank you, Beatriz —he said at last, voice sincere. —I think this gave me exactly what I needed.

—You’re welcome —she replied warmly. —I hope to see you succeed, Miguel Ángel. You have incredible talent.

His gaze reflected genuine gratitude, and Beatriz knew this moment of unspoken closeness —with no expectations— had been an important step for both of them.

Chapter Text

Beatriz had been avoiding him for five days. After the training session in which she had accidentally hit him too hard , her mind couldn’t stop replaying what had happened. Lucien, a passionate and impulsive Aries , wasn’t easy to deal with, but there was something in his nature that made the connection between them inevitable . She, a deep and emotional Pisces, often felt too sensitive for her own good , and those unchecked emotions had exploded in that moment, when Lucien had pushed too hard during training with Beatriz.

The scene was burned into her mind: the instinctive blow, the look of surprise in Lucien’s eyes , the sting of guilt —they had driven her to flee. Beatriz knew she didn’t want that reaction to come between them, even if she couldn’t deny that something still lingered . Despite her pride, she knew something needed to change, though she still didn’t know how to approach it.

Five days of silence had left Beatriz trapped in a kind of emotional purgatory , where regret mixed with the need for things to go back to normal. But Lucien wasn’t the type of man to ask for apologies. She knew she couldn’t demand one either, because she understood that, though his fiery temper led him to confront her bluntly, his heart was different underneath . Lucien didn’t want an apology—he wanted to understand what had really happened, to grasp how Beatriz’s internal conflict had driven her to react that way.

It was him who, unexpectedly, showed up at her house at the end of those five days—a gesture Beatriz hadn’t seen coming, yet couldn’t help but feel marked by his patience . He knew how hard it was for her to deal with her own emotions, but he also knew Beatriz wasn’t someone who acted out of convention. He wasn’t doing this out of obligation, but because he wanted to keep getting to know her , to understand her better—not just as a colleague, but as a person.

Maybe I’ve never told you, Beatriz , Lucien thought as he stood at her door, eyes fixed on the wooden frame. But I understand you better than you think. Sometimes, people like you and me fight what we feel—but that doesn’t mean we don’t care.

Lucien had never been one to give up easily, and though he knew Beatriz could be a complicated woman, he felt ready to understand the part of her that didn’t show easily . He wasn’t expecting her to apologize, but he did want to show her he wasn’t going to walk away just like that. Deep down, he knew she hadn’t wanted things to end the way they did. And that gave him hope—that maybe, over time, their bond could grow stronger, without needing excuses or pressure , just mutual understanding.

When Beatriz opened the door, the brush of their gazes didn’t need words. Inside, both knew that what had happened had left a mark—but they also knew something deeper was starting to unfold between them, something beyond misunderstandings and differences . Lucien, with his Aries energy, didn’t want to push her. He just wanted to understand her, so that, finally, they could move forward together.

— Can we talk? —he said softly, asking nothing of her, as if his presence alone were enough to open the door to a sincere conversation.

Beatriz, though still burdened with doubt, chose not to retreat any further. She wasn’t ready to promise anything, but at least she wanted to understand Lucien better— the way he was trying to understand her . She knew this wouldn’t be just any conversation, and though the words still floated in the air, something deep inside her told her that taking this next step wasn’t as scary as it seemed.

Lucien’s gaze, ever so Aries, made it clear he didn’t want to pressure her—but he was willing to listen.

Beatriz hesitated for a second, but in the end, she took the step. This wasn’t the time to turn back. She wasn’t ready for promises, but she was ready to try to understand what was between them . Something in Lucien’s tone told her this wasn’t just any talk—that not all was lost.

— Yes… —Beatriz replied, her voice a bit lower than usual. With a sigh, she stepped a little closer. — I don’t know what’s going to happen between us, but… I’d like to understand you better. Maybe things aren’t as complicated as they seem.

Lucien nodded with a faint smile, as if Beatriz’s openness was enough to begin rebuilding what had been broken.

— Not everything has to be complicated, Beatriz. I just… I don’t want you to run away. —His tone was honest, no beating around the bush, as it had always been with her.

Beatriz looked down for a moment before lifting her gaze to meet his again. Inside her, something began to relax. Maybe the conversation wouldn’t bring all the answers—but at least they could try.

— I’m not going to run, Lucien —she finally said, with a sincerity that even surprised herself.

The silence between them became comfortable . They didn’t need more words right then. They knew they couldn’t force what wasn’t ready—but at least, there were no more walls between them.

The next day, Beatriz walked into Lucien’s office, letting out a sigh she wasn’t sure was from relief or exhaustion. The air was heavy—not from tension, but from the solemn peace they shared , after those three days of not knowing anything about each other. Lucien sat behind a worktable, arms crossed over the surface and an expression that hovered between seriousness and fatigue .

The atmosphere felt dense, almost as if each of them was waiting for the other to speak first, but neither dared to break the silence. The hum of the air conditioner, the rustle of papers—everything seemed amplified by the stillness of the moment.

Beatriz looked around, trying to focus on something other than the obvious: Lucien’s mood . It was clear he had also been avoiding the topic. But there was something in his eyes, something subtle, that invited her to open up . She didn’t want to feel pressured—but just being in his office, without the weight of the argument hanging over them, gave her a small sense of calm.

Beatriz had been avoiding him for five days. After the training session where she had unintentionally hit him too hard, her mind kept replaying the incident. Lucien, a passionate and impulsive Aries , wasn't easy to deal with, but there was something in his nature that made the connection between them feel inevitable . She, a deep and emotional Pisces , often felt too sensitive for her own good, and those uncontrolled emotions had exploded in that moment—when Lucien had pushed her too hard during their training.

The scene was etched in her mind: the instinctive strike, the surprise in Lucien’s eyes, the sting of guilt —all of it had made her run away. Beatriz knew she didn’t want that reaction to get in the way of what they had, even if she couldn’t deny that something was still there. Despite her pride , she knew something had to change—though she still didn’t know how to approach it.

Five days of silence had left Beatriz stuck in an emotional purgatory , where regret mingled with the desire for things to return to normal. But Lucien wasn’t the kind of man who sought apologies . She knew she couldn’t demand one, because even though his fiery temperament often led him to confront her with brutal honesty , his heart was different. Lucien didn’t want an apology—he wanted to understand what had truly happened, to grasp how Beatriz’s internal battle had led to her reaction.

It was he who, unexpectedly, showed up at her house after those five days—a gesture Beatriz hadn’t anticipated, but one that felt marked by his patience . He knew how hard it was for her to deal with her emotions, but he also knew that Beatriz wasn’t someone who followed conventions. He wasn’t there out of obligation , but because he truly wanted to keep getting to know her—not just as a colleague, but as a person .

"Maybe I’ve never said it out loud, Beatriz," Lucien thought as he stood at her doorstep, eyes fixed on the wooden door. "But I understand you better than you think. Sometimes people like you and me fight what we feel—but that doesn’t mean we don’t care."

Lucien had never been one to give up easily , and although he knew Beatriz could be a complicated woman, he felt ready to embrace that side of her. He wasn’t expecting an apology, but he did want to show her that he wouldn’t just walk away. He knew that in her heart, Beatriz hadn’t wanted what happened between them. And that gave him hope—that with time, their relationship could become stronger , without excuses or pressure, just through mutual understanding .

When Beatriz opened the door, their eyes met in a way that required no words. Deep down, both of them knew the incident had left a mark , but they also knew something greater was unfolding—something beyond misunderstandings and differences. Lucien, with his Aries energy , didn’t want to push her. He just wanted to understand her, so they could move forward—together.

“ Can we talk? ” he asked gently, without demanding anything, as if his presence alone was enough to open the door to an honest conversation .

Beatriz, still carrying her doubts, chose not to retreat this time. She wasn’t ready to make promises, but she wanted to understand Lucien better, just as he was trying to understand her. She knew this wouldn’t be a typical conversation, and even though her thoughts swirled around her, something inside told her that taking the next step wasn’t as frightening as it seemed.

Lucien’s gaze, as Aries-like as ever, made it clear—he didn’t want to pressure her, but he was ready to listen .

Beatriz hesitated for a second, but then took a step forward. It wasn’t the time to retreat. She wasn’t ready to promise anything—but she was ready to try.

—I… don’t know what’s going to happen between us,—she said, her voice softer than usual. With a sigh, she moved a little closer. “But… I’d like to understand you better. Maybe not everything has to be so complicated .”

Lucien nodded with a faint smile, as if her openness alone was enough to start rebuilding what had been broken.

“Not everything has to be complicated, Beatriz. I just… don’t want you to run away .” His tone was honest , direct—just like he had always been with her.

Beatriz looked down for a moment, then lifted her gaze to meet his again. Something inside her began to soften . Maybe the conversation wouldn’t solve everything—but at least she could try.

—I’m not going to run, Lucien,— she said at last, with a sincerity that even surprised herself.

The silence that followed became comfortable . They didn’t need more words just then. They knew they couldn’t force something that wasn’t ready—but at least there were no more walls between them.

The next day, Beatriz walked into Lucien’s office, letting out a sigh she couldn’t quite tell was from relief or exhaustion . The atmosphere was heavy, but not tense—rather, filled with the solemn calm they both shared after three days of no contact. Lucien was seated at a work table, arms crossed, his expression shifting between seriousness and fatigue .

The air felt dense, as if each was waiting for the other to speak—but neither dared to break the silence . The hum of the air conditioner, the rustling of paper—everything sounded louder in that stillness.

Beatriz looked around, trying to focus on anything but the obvious: Lucien’s state of mind . It was clear he had also been avoiding the subject. But there was something in his gaze—something subtle—that invited her to open up . She didn’t want to feel pressured , but just being in his office, without the weight of the past hanging over them, gave her a slight sense of peace .

The Button Battle

Days later, calmer now, Beatriz and Lucien were sitting in the archive room of Lucien’s office, surrounded by reports and holographic maps . They were both working in silence, focused, but every so often Lucien would let out a sigh, clearly uncomfortable with the overly serious atmosphere. Beatriz, for her part, flipped through documents, trying to stay focused… until she remembered.

“The jacket button.”

It was a silly, insignificant detail. But her mind, as treacherous as ever, wouldn’t let her rest. The image of that poor button sliding along the thread as it struggled to withstand the tension popped back into her head. How did it hold on…? A miracle of textile engineering , perhaps?

She tried to focus on the map in front of her, but the scene played out like a movie in her mind:

First, the button as Spiderman , holding Lucien’s pectorals with both arms while a single thread threatened to snap under pressure. Then, the button became Captain America , clinging to the thread on one side and to the fabric on the other, in a near-heroic effort. Finally, she pictured the button bursting in slow motion , like a dramatic explosion in a film.

She couldn’t help it. She giggled.

Lucien looked up from the reports, raising an eyebrow.
— What’s so funny?

Beatriz shook her head quickly, but a laugh slipped out.
— Nothing, nothing… it’s… it’s just… —she tried to hold it back, but laughter betrayed her again. She couldn’t stop thinking about the epic sacrifice of the button.

Lucien watched her with a mix of confusion and suspicion.
— What are you laughing at, Beatriz? You know I can’t stand being kept in the dark.

She tried to calm down, but the smile was still there, completely out of control. At last, she raised a hand in surrender and, between laughs, managed to say:
— The button.

He blinked, confused.
— What button?

Beatriz had to bite her lip to keep from bursting out laughing again. She couldn’t tell him the truth — it wouldn’t make sense in his world. How could she explain the mental image of a button turned epic hero , desperately holding on to his pectoral muscles ? It was ridiculous… but hilarious.

— It’s just… well, I was thinking about the button on your jacket the other day —she said, trying to sound serious, although laughter still danced in her voice.

Lucien frowned, clearly feeling a bit attacked, but also a little self-conscious.
— My jacket? What’s so funny about my jacket?

— Nothing, nothing… just… imagine how much that poor button suffered —Beatriz replied, and that was when she completely gave in to laughter, letting her head fall onto the table as she tried to catch her breath.

Lucien looked at her, incredulous.
— Are you making fun of my muscles?

— No, no, not at all! —Beatriz exclaimed, raising her hands in peace, though she was still red from laughing—. It’s just… I think that button deserves a medal of valor.

Lucien brought a hand to his face, trying to hide the slight smile creeping in.
— You’re impossible, Beatriz.

Beatriz gave him an innocent look, though her eyes were still gleaming with mischief.
— Come on, Lucien. You have to admit it was an epic moment. That poor button sacrificed itself to save us all from a view that was just a little too… revealing.

Lucien let out a dramatic sigh, though he was already smiling.
— Next time, I’ll just buy bigger jackets.

Beatriz raised a finger, still laughing.
— Or stronger buttons.

They both ended up laughing together, the tension of work melting away in a moment of pure camaraderie .

Chapter Text

The Coffee Duel

Lucien had been plotting his revenge for days. He knew Beatriz always had a double coffee in the mid-afternoon—her ritual to stay sharp at work. So, with Arian precision , he orchestrated his move: when Beatriz approached the coffee machine , she found a custom mug waiting for her.

In shiny gold letters it read: "Queen of Drama and Buttons."

She raised an eyebrow and picked up the mug carefully, turning it to see a drawing on the other side—a broken button with a heroic aura . She couldn't help but smile.
—And this, Lucien? Your big revenge?
Lucien emerged from behind a shelf, arms crossed and wearing a triumphant smile.
—Exactly. A reminder of who’s really in control here.
Beatriz looked at him with mock admiration as she brought the mug to her lips.
—How thoughtful of you… Although…
—Although what? —Lucien asked, still brimming with confidence.
Beatriz set the mug down, turned to her desk, and pulled out a small package wrapped in metallic paper.
—Although I expected a bit more originality . I brought something for you too.
Lucien blinked, confused, as she handed him the package. When he opened it, he found a black T-shirt with a printed image that left him speechless: a giant button holding together a torn jacket , with the text: “I survived Lucien Draekos and all I got was this T-shirt.”
—This... Since when did you plan this? —he asked, staring at the shirt in disbelief.
Beatriz rested her chin on her hand, her innocent smile as dangerous as ever.
—Since you told me “you’ll pay for this.” What? Did you think I’d just sit back and do nothing?
Lucien couldn’t hold back his laughter.
—You’re a lost cause, Beatriz. But I love how your mind works.
Beatriz stood up and did a playful twirl toward the coffee machine, as if nothing had happened.
—Of course you do. Now, are you going to pour me another coffee , or am I doing all the work alone?
—On one condition. —Lucien lifted the T-shirt with a defiant grin— I get to wear this one first !
—As you wish, Lucien. But remember: in this war, whoever laughs last… laughs best .
They looked at each other, that spark of rivalry only strengthening their connection.

Mission: Into the Heart of the Underworld

The Pleasure District shimmered with flickering neon lights , casting a show of colors over the wet pavement. Beatriz and Lucien moved through the plaza’s hustle, keeping up casual conversation to blend in. But behind their fake smiles, both were fully alert.

—They’re close —Beatriz whispered, feeling the grips of her twin pistols hidden beneath her jacket.
Lucien tilted his head slightly, hands loose at his sides, ready to strike at any moment.
—How many?
—Four. Three on the roof to your right , one in the back by the “Welcome to Sin” sign.
Lucien frowned, glancing up at the roof.
—Perfect. I’ll handle the three. You take the lone one.
Beatriz smirked.
— Trusting me so soon? I’m flattered, Aries.
Lucien sighed.
—Don’t make me regret it.
Without another word, they split up, moving like shadows through the chaotic underworld .

Beatriz advanced swiftly toward her target. The Wander —a deformed android with whip-like arms —turned its mechanical head toward her. Before it could attack, Beatriz drew her pistols in one fluid motion.
—Time to dance, friend —she murmured, opening fire.
The bullets flew with surgical precision , striking the creature’s weak points . As it staggered, Beatriz spun, dodging a whip that sliced the air inches from her face. With an elegant move, she fired again, disabling the enemy before it could retaliate.

Meanwhile, Lucien vaulted onto the rooftop, facing the remaining three Wanders . His moves were quick and brutal, each blow packed with raw strength . One android tried to ensnare him with a metal arm, but Lucien broke it with a precise strike, using his body weight to unbalance the others.

From below, Beatriz looked up just in time to catch him in action.
—Always so loud , Lucien —she murmured, though she couldn’t help admiring the precision in his strikes.
Now fully in control, Lucien pushed the three enemies toward the edge of the roof . With an agile leap, he landed on the ground, drawing the androids with him. That’s when Beatriz raised one of her pistols, aiming at the neon sign above.

— Duck! —she shouted to Lucien.
Without hesitation, Lucien dropped to the ground just as Beatriz fired. The “Welcome to Sin” sign exploded , sending sparks and debris raining down, disabling the remaining androids.
When the smoke cleared, Lucien got to his feet, brushing dust off his jacket.
—Nice shot, Beatriz. Though I didn’t expect you’d really blow the sign.
Beatriz blew away imaginary smoke from her pistol before holstering it.
—I’m practical , Lucien. And efficient .
Lucien crossed his arms, eyeing her with a mix of disbelief and amusement.
—Does that mean you’re buying the next coffee ?
Beatriz grinned.
—Only if you admit I’m the better strategist .
As they walked away from the scene, Lucien couldn’t help but chuckle. Beatriz had proven, once again, that working with her was anything but boring.

The Dangerous Bet

Beatriz and Lucien walked through the dark corridors of an abandoned warehouse , searching for a Wanderer who, according to reports, had been stealing energy from the main lines. The tension in the air was palpable, but Lucien couldn’t help trying to break it in his own way.

—Beatriz, you seem very serious today. What’s wrong? Afraid I’ll steal the spotlight? —he joked, adjusting his combat gloves .

Beatriz, with her guns ready , gave him a sideways glance.

—I’m not worried. If anyone’s going down today, it’ll be the Wanderer ... and maybe you, Lucien, if you don’t focus.

Lucien chuckled.

—I see, as confident as ever. How about a bet ? If I take down the Wanderer first, you owe me dinner .

Beatriz paused for a moment, her eyes scanning the surroundings before replying.

—And if I’m the one who defeats it?

Lucien grinned, full of confidence.

—Then dinner’s on me.

Beatriz raised an eyebrow, as if considering the offer, then nodded.

—Deal. But don’t complain if you lose, Lucien.

They moved forward in silence until they found the Wanderer : an imposing android with a glowing core in its chest, surrounded by an energy barrier . It was fast, darting between boxes and firing projectiles that bounced off the metallic walls.

Lucien was the first to strike, dodging the shots with agile movements and closing the distance in a leap. His fists hit the barrier, making it spark, but they couldn’t break through.

—You’re going to need more than brute strength, Lucien —Beatriz commented from her position, aiming with her guns.

—Oh yeah? —Lucien shot back, dodging a blow from the Wanderer and landing one of his own—. I’d love to see your “ great plan ,” Beatriz.

Beatriz smiled, as if she had been waiting for him to say that.

—Sure, but don’t get jealous when it works.

Without warning, she fired a couple of shots —not at the Wanderer, but at the support beams of a stack of boxes above it. The precise shots made the boxes collapse, temporarily disabling the monster’s barrier .

Lucien didn’t waste time. He took advantage of the opening and, with a precise strike , destroyed the Wanderer’s core .

— Point for me! —he exclaimed, turning toward Beatriz with a triumphant smile.

But Beatriz didn’t look upset. In fact, she was smiling.

—Are you sure you won, Lucien?

Lucien frowned, looking at the Wanderer. That’s when he noticed that, amidst the falling boxes, one of Beatriz’s bullets had hit the core just before his final blow.

—That doesn’t count... right? —he muttered, trying to come up with an excuse.

Beatriz shrugged.

—I’d say we defeated it together , but since you were the one who insisted on the bet... I guess you’re paying for dinner .

Lucien sighed, crossing his arms with a mix of resignation and amusement.

—You knew this would happen, didn’t you?

Beatriz grinned widely.

—Let’s just say I have good intuition .

The Private Chef

Lucien decides to surprise her with something more personal , inviting her to his penthouse , where his private chef is already preparing a dinner fit for royalty . Upon arrival, Beatriz takes in the place, impeccably decorated with a breathtaking view of the night cityscape .

—So it wasn’t enough to show off your moves —now you have to show me your house too? —she teases, crossing her arms.

Lucien smiles, leaning slightly toward her.

—What can I say? I like you to see everything I have... to offer.

Beatriz holds back a laugh.

—Do you invite other girls to these dinners too, or am I the exception?

Lucien pauses for a moment, processing the comment, before shaking his head.

—You’re the only one who deserves this treatment. The others can settle for takeout .

The dinner begins, with delicate dishes served in perfect timing, but Beatriz decides to return the favor. As the chef presents a sophisticated dessert , she looks at Lucien and says:

—Did you know this dish was a favorite among nobles in a popular series? Though of course, they didn’t have a private chef as handsome as yours.

The chef, not expecting the comment, blushes slightly and thanks her. Lucien, on the other hand, stares at her in disbelief.

—Are you flirting with my chef in my own house?

Beatriz chuckles softly.

—Relax, Lucien. You’re still the star of this dinner... although you didn’t expect me to enjoy it this much at your expense, did you?

Lucien leans back in his chair, surrendering once more.

—I admit it, Beatriz. You always have a card up your sleeve .

Improvised Training

Beatriz adjusted the wristbands of her training uniform , glancing at Lucien as he stretched. Standing at 1.90 meters with an impressive build, it was hard not to feel like she was about to train against a tank .

—Ready, Beatriz? —Lucien asked with a confident smile, his red eyes full of anticipation.

Beatriz smiled back, relaxed.

—Sure, Lucien. But don’t get too excited. I’m taking it easy this time.

He raised an eyebrow, amused.

—Does that mean you won’t punch me in the face again?

Beatriz rolled her eyes.

—That was an accident... besides, you provoked me .

—Provoking you is part of the training. —Lucien took his combat stance .

Training began. Instead of throwing direct attacks, Beatriz used her visualization skill . She closed her eyes for brief moments, mentally recreating Lucien’s movements and predicting his actions with impressive accuracy.

—That’s new —Lucien remarked as he blocked one of her strikes. —Are you analyzing me, Beatriz?

Beatriz smiled, moving fluidly.

—Let’s just say I’m practicing my “Tifa mode.”

Lucien laughed and counterattacked, forcing her to retreat. Beatriz spun quickly, dodging his movements, and both synced in a dance of attacks and defenses that looked more like choreography than combat.

At a moment of high intensity, Beatriz miscalculated a spin, and her leg tangled with Lucien’s. Before they could react, both lost their balance.

With a loud "thud!" , they fell to the floor. Beatriz landed on her back against the mat , and Lucien, trying to cushion the fall, ended up on top of her .

For a second, only the sound of their heavy breathing could be heard. Lucien stared at her, his white hair slightly falling over his face. Beatriz felt heat rising to her cheeks .

—Um... Lucien, —she said, breaking the silence in a slightly awkward voice. —I don’t want to alarm you, but... you’re heavy .

Lucien blinked, clearly confused.

—What?

Beatriz stuck out her tongue dramatically, like a sticker glued to the mat.

—You weigh like you ate bricks !

Lucien chuckled, but his smile vanished when Beatriz pointed at something with her gaze.

—Speaking of heavy things... would you mind moving your hand ? —she said, her face now completely red.

Lucien looked down and realized his hand was, indeed, on her chest . His face turned bright red , and he quickly pulled away, getting up clumsily.

—Sorry! Sorry! It wasn’t intentional...

Beatriz, now on her feet, brushed off her clothes while trying not to laugh.

—Relax, Lucien. It’s not like it hurt you more than it hurt me.

Lucien ran a hand through his hair, clearly embarrassed but trying to stay composed.

—That was... an accident.

Beatriz patted his shoulder, grinning mischievously.

—Don’t worry, I’m sure we both learned something from this.

—What did you learn? —Lucien asked, still curious.

Beatriz winked.

—That you should never underestimate someone who knows exactly where it hurts .

Lucien stared at her, a mix of amusement and admiration shining in his eyes.

—You’re incredibly unpredictable, Beatriz.

—And you should start worrying. —Beatriz walked away, waving goodbye as he stayed behind, laughing.

Chapter Text

The rain poured heavily against the windows of Lucien’s elegant residence, thunder rumbling in the distance. Beatriz watched the downpour from the living room couch , the sound of the storm creating a tranquil atmosphere, almost contradictory to the tension from their recent sparring session.

She leaned further into the cushion of a sofa that felt a little too luxurious for her taste, as if trying to release the last of the adrenaline. Still, she couldn’t help but smile now and then, remembering her victory . Lucien wasn’t far; in the kitchen , the half-open door revealed his silhouette as he prepared something light for dinner. A comfortable silence filled the space between them.

Beatriz stretched, watching the raindrops slide down the glass , vanishing into a sea of reflections. A flash of lightning lit up the sky, and the storm seemed to grow stronger. Lucien entered the room, lacking his usual boundless energy, but with a thoughtful look in his eyes.

—Looks like the weather’s not going to let up, —he said, his tone more of a statement than a question.

Beatriz raised an eyebrow, letting out a soft laugh.

—I think the rain took its sweet time deciding to fall, but… —she looked toward the window, as if weighing the idea of going out. Then turned to him—. I’d rather not risk being the next person to vanish into a puddle . I’ll stay here, if you don’t mind?

Lucien looked at her for a moment, his eyes sparking with that same mix of amusement and mystery . He knew Beatriz always said exactly what she thought—and that honesty sometimes threw him off.

—I don’t mind at all. —He smiled, more relaxed now, approaching with a steaming cup of soup —. At least you’ve got the perfect excuse to stay a while longer. Aren’t you afraid of being alone here with a “stranger,” Beatriz?

Beatriz took the cup he offered, shrugging.

—You’re not that strange, Lucien. Besides, you’re more talkative than scary.

The aroma of the food seemed to soothe her body after the exhausting training. In the end, her decision to stay wasn’t just because of the rain. Something about the space made her feel oddly comfortable , like she was part of a story she didn’t fully understand yet.

And as the wind howled outside, she settled into the couch, her fingers brushing the rim of the cup. The rain did the rest, creating a sense of shelter that seemed to wrap around both of them. The thunder now felt more like background music to the light conversation that began to bloom between them, as if everything else—even their earlier tension—had been washed away by the storm.

He raised an eyebrow, amused.

—Is that so? Maybe I should tell you a scary story to change your mind.

Beatriz looked at him, a spark of curiosity in her eyes.

—Go ahead. I like good stories .

Lucien sat across from her and began his tale—a dark story about a cursed forest , full of shadows and a vengeful spirit that trapped intruders to steal their souls. His dramatic tone was perfectly calibrated, and every now and then, he paused to watch Beatriz, expecting some kind of fearful reaction.

But instead of being scared, Beatriz leaned forward, fascinated .

—And then what happened? How did they escape?

Lucien blinked, surprised.

—Well... technically... they didn’t.

Beatriz let out a disappointed "oh" and leaned back on the couch, thoughtful.

—It’s a good story, but I think I can tell you a better one.

—A better story than mine? —Lucien asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

Beatriz smiled, adjusting her position to begin.

—Yes. But it’s not a scary one. It’s an epic tale .

With the tone of a seasoned storyteller, Beatriz began narrating the story of Dragonheart . Her words painted vivid images: the noble sacrifice of the dragon, the tragedy of the knight, and the bond that united them despite everything. The room filled with the magic of her voice , subtly shifting to bring each character to life.

Lucien listened in complete silence—a rare thing for him. He had started with a mocking smile, but as the story unfolded, his expression grew serious , even nostalgic .

When Beatriz reached the moment where the dragon gave his life and ascended to the sky , she finished with a line that left Lucien caught off guard:

—I would’ve liked to be friends with...

Lucien, thoughtful, interrupted:

—The knight?

Beatriz shook her head, smiling with melancholy.

— The dragon . So he’d know he had more friends who would miss him and love him for who he was—even after everything.

For a moment, the only sound between them was the storm outside . Lucien looked away, his usual smile gone.

—Interesting story, Beatriz, —he murmured, breaking the silence—. Though maybe dragons aren’t always as noble as they seem in stories.

Beatriz looked at him with a mix of curiosity and empathy , as if she could sense the emotions behind his words.

—Maybe, but I think all dragons have something noble in their hearts . They just need someone to see it.

Lucien didn’t respond, but his eyes—darkened by something deeper—watched her with an intensity Beatriz didn’t quite understand.

She held his gaze, noticing that his usual confident attitude had faded. There was something in his eyes she hadn’t seen before—a mix of nostalgia and sorrow that threw her off.

—Did I say something wrong? —she asked, squinting slightly as if trying to read him.

Lucien stood up with a smooth motion, shrugging. A faint smile returned to his face.

—Not at all, Beatriz. I just didn’t expect you to be such a good storyteller. You caught me off guard, that’s all.

Beatriz tilted her head, unconvinced.

—Mmm, are you sure? Because it feels like I hit you with something harder than one of my pistols .

He let out a short laugh, trying to change the subject.

—Don’t worry so much. Not everyone can keep up with your... Piscean creativity .

She rolled her eyes.

—That’s not even a real expression.

Lucien stretched, faking a dramatic yawn.

—Anyway, it’s late. The storm’s still strong, so you should get some rest. You can use the guest room .

—Oh, are you kicking me out? —Beatriz asked, standing up as well.

—Of course not. I just think if you keep thinking this much, you’ll burn out your two remaining brain cells .

She glared at him, but couldn’t stop smiling.

—You’re insufferable, you know that?

—Absolutely. —Lucien winked and turned toward the kitchen—. I’ll put this away. You go on up and get some rest.

Beatriz watched him walk off, still feeling that strange mix of emotions in the air. Something about the way his light had dimmed for a moment unsettled her, but she chose not to press it.

— Good night, Lucien , —she whispered more to herself than to him, then climbed the stairs to the guest room.

As she settled into bed, listening to the rain tapping on the windows , she couldn’t help but reflect on the story of the dragon. A sting of sadness crossed her chest as she remembered her own words—wishing someone could help Lucien remember that, like the dragon, he still had something noble in his heart .

In the kitchen, Lucien remained still, staring at his empty tea cup . His fingers tapped against the table as Beatriz’s words echoed in his mind.

—“More friends who would miss him...” —he murmured to himself. A faint smile tugged at his lips, but his eyes remained shadowed by the weight of memories he preferred to bury .

The storm raged on outside, but within the house, two souls were beginning to intertwine , despite the secrets they both kept.

Chapter Text

The night was cold , with the winter wind slipping between the academy buildings and the city streets. Beatriz adjusted her coat as she walked toward her motorcycle , rubbing her hands together to warm them up. Her shift was over, and all she wanted was to get back to her room, have a hot drink, and maybe read something before bed.

But as she approached her bike, she saw a small white ball curled up next to the front wheel. She crouched down, squinting, and felt a pang in her chest when she realized it was a white dove , shivering from the cold and visibly malnourished. Its tiny feet could barely support it, and its feathers were dirty and ruffled.

—What are you doing here, little one? —she murmured, extending a careful hand. The dove made no effort to flee, too weak to react.

Beatriz sighed and took off her scarf , gently wrapping the bird to keep it warm. She couldn’t leave it there—not with the temperature dropping fast. Something about the scene reminded her of her life in Mexico , when she often picked up stray animals and someone always scolded her for spending money on them when she couldn’t even keep them. But she had never considered it a waste to help a living creature.

She made a quick decision. She started her motorcycle and rode across the city until she found an emergency vet . The receptionist gave her a curious look when she came in with the dove wrapped in a scarf, but didn’t ask unnecessary questions. Fortunately, there was a vet available who could see the bird right away.

After an examination, the diagnosis was clear: the dove was malnourished and had suffered from the cold, but with proper care, it could recover. Beatriz paid for the initial treatment without hesitation, ignoring the sting in her bank account . While waiting, she checked her phone and realized it was almost eleven at night . A long sigh escaped her lips. She had completely lost track of time.

When she finally left the clinic with the bird tucked in a box, a problem became clear. She couldn’t take it with her. In less than two days, she had to travel to another city for training conferences organized by the academy and the Hunter Association . The dove needed constant attention for at least a week. Who could she leave it with?

Her first thought was a fellow academy member, but she dismissed the idea right away. Most were just as busy as she was. Then another name came to mind—one that made her click her tongue in frustration.

Lucien .

It was a risk, sure, but also the best option. Despite his arrogant attitude and extravagant lifestyle, he had resources and often stayed up all night. And she had to grudgingly admit: deep down, Lucien wasn’t a bad person . Maybe—just maybe—he’d agree to help her.

She pulled out her phone, scrolled through her contacts until she found his name, and hit call , hoping—as usual—that he’d be awake at that hour. She told him she was on her way and asked him to wait at home.

The night was bitingly cold , Beatriz’s breath forming white clouds in front of her fogged-up helmet visor. She parked her motorcycle next to the building and, without thinking twice, took out the key Lucien had given her some time ago. It wasn’t the first time she’d taken refuge there, but this time had a different purpose .

The door clicked open, and the warmth inside wrapped around her, a stark contrast to the icy air outside. She walked down the hall with quick steps, carefully holding the box in her hands, and stopped in front of Lucien’s room . She took a deep breath and knocked.

The seconds dragged longer than usual—until finally, the door opened.

Lucien stood there, dressed in a heavy winter coat , a black turtleneck shirt , and hanging from his neck, a silver necklace with an “L” pendant. Beatriz felt a strange déjà vu upon seeing him like that, as if she’d seen him in that exact outfit before… but couldn’t remember where.

—Hi… I hope I’m not too late, I— —she stammered, but her voice faded when her visor, fogged up by the temperature difference, blurred his face completely.

Lucien, with a mischievous smile, reached out and playfully wiped her visor with the sleeve of his coat.

—You look like you just came back from a war —he joked, his tone half-teasing, half-indifferent.

Beatriz, still feeling that strange sensation in her chest, blinked again, noticing his outfit once more. Something inside her insisted that this image of Lucien wasn’t unfamiliar… but she couldn’t figure out why.

He looked down and noticed the box she was holding. His expression shifted, growing more serious.

—Is that what you need help with? —he asked in a more neutral tone.

—Ah, yeah… Well, it’s just… —Beatriz tried to explain, but before she could say more, Lucien turned around and started to close the door , as if the conversation were already over.

—Lucien, please don’t be like this —she said with a hint of exasperation—. If you help me with this… I promise I’ll go anywhere with you next weekend. Deal?

Lucien stopped mid-motion, and in a flash, with natural grace, grabbed Beatriz’s wrist and pulled her inside.

— Anywhere? —he whispered playfully as the door closed behind them.

Before she could react, he subtly pressed her against the door, using his height and presence to tower over her. Beatriz blinked, slightly startled, caught between the cold wood and Lucien’s dangerous warmth , now far too close.

—Are you willing to make that promise? —his voice was a deep murmur, his warm breath brushing against her skin.

She replied in her usual neutral tone, without hesitation:

—Yes, you have my word. But first, please help me with this little one.

Lucien stared at her for a moment longer, then let out a soft chuckle.

—Always so pragmatic… Fine.

He stepped back and led her to the living room , a space Beatriz had never seen before. There were bookshelves full of volumes, a lit fireplace , and a leather armchair that looked far too elegant for someone who claimed to be from the underworld .

Lucien carefully took the box from her hands and opened it slowly. Inside, the tiny white dove cooed weakly, its feathers fragile and disheveled .

—You have a strange way of asking for favors, Beatriz —he murmured as he examined the dove.

At that moment, a flap of metal wings echoed in the room. Diaval , Lucien’s mechanical raven, descended and perched on the back of the armchair, watching the scene with curiosity. The little dove looked at him and made a faint sound, as if trying to communicate.

Beatriz sighed and sat across from Lucien.

—I found her on the way, she was about to freeze to death . She’s clearly malnourished , and her feathers need to regenerate . They’ve already bandaged her at the vet, but she’ll need care for at least a week. And I leave in less than two days for some conferences , so I need someone to watch over her while I’m gone.

Lucien leaned back in the chair, pulled a coin from his pocket, and began flipping it into the air with practiced ease.

— Philanthropists help others out of compassion, —he said arrogantly—. Is that how you see me?

Beatriz narrowed her eyes slightly.

—I’m not appealing to your sense of philanthropy . That’s why I offered to go wherever you want, so the deal would seem fair to you.

Diaval tilted his head from side to side, watching the exchange between them as if waiting to see who would win this little negotiation duel .

Lucien exhaled slowly and stopped playing with the coin.

—You should’ve said that first. —He smirked—. Very well, I’ll take care of the dove.

Beatriz relaxed her shoulders, relieved.

—I hope you treat her better than poor Diaval —she joked with a faint smile.

Lucien let out a low laugh, somewhere between warm and sarcastic , and gently picked up the dove from the box, holding her with a tenderness that contrasted with his usual arrogance.

—When do you come back? —he asked, still looking at the tiny bird.

Beatriz crossed her arms and studied him.

— Sunday.

—Fine. I expect you here Sunday at 11 p.m. sharp . Not a minute later. —He glanced at the room’s clock.

Beatriz rolled her eyes, amused.

—Such a drama queen. Don’t worry, I’ll be on time.

During the week , Beatriz and Lucien stayed in touch every night . Through video calls , she always asked about the dove , making sure it was well fed and that its bandages were changed on time.

Lucien, of course, never missed the chance to be theatrical.

—She calls me every night and doesn’t even ask how I’m doing —he lamented with fake sadness —. She only cares about the little dove .

Beatriz laughed.

—Don’t be so dramatic. I just want to make sure it’s getting better.

Lucien looked at her mischievously.

—And who’s improving more? The dove , or your sense of responsibility ?

—Ha ha, very funny.

—I have a surprise for you when you get back.

Beatriz raised an eyebrow.

—A surprise? Should I be worried?

—Maybe.

She chuckled and looked at him with a mix of curiosity and suspicion .

—Tell me the truth. Aren’t you afraid you’ll use my absence to pull off some mafia stunt ?

Lucien placed a hand dramatically over his chest, pretending to be offended.

—Oh yes, of course. The most dangerous man in the city is going to unleash chaos while the best police officer is away.

—Exactly —she replied sarcastically.

—Please. If I haven’t done anything while you were here, I’m certainly not going to now that I have to take care of this little one.

—I hope you keep your word.

Lucien smiled with confident ease.

—When I make a promise , I keep it.

The last night before her return, Lucien reminded her with his typical Aries attitude :

—Tomorrow at 11 p.m. sharp . Not a minute later.

Beatriz sighed and smiled.

—You’re so dramatic.

Lucien leaned a little closer to the screen, his smile crooked.

—And you say that like it’s a bad thing?

—See you tomorrow —she said, denying him the satisfaction of a direct answer.

Lucien just smiled before hanging up.

Beatriz arrived at the base a few hours earlier than expected, her motorcycle purring softly before shutting off completely. She hurried inside, rubbing her hands together to ward off the night chill . The living room was dimly lit, illuminated only by the soft glow of a lamp in the corner. Lucien was nowhere to be seen, so she frowned and scanned the room.

Then, without warning, warm breath brushed against her ear.

—Long time no see.

The low, amused tone made her jump and turn sharply, only to find Lucien , staring at her with that signature half-smile , clearly pleased with having surprised her. He wore a dark suit and his usual heavy coat , the kind that looked made for the harshest of winters. Something about that image felt familiar , but the sensation escaped her, like a blurry dream slipping away upon waking.

—You still have the bad habit of sneaking up from behind —Beatriz snapped, glaring at him.

—And you still have the bad habit of leaving the door open —he retorted, tilting his head with theatrical flair—. I hope the little dove didn’t decide to escape.

—That’s not possible —Beatriz replied confidently—. I saw her just yesterday. She didn’t seem like she wanted to fly off.

Lucien clicked his tongue softly before whistling. In response, the dove fluttered in from another room, landing gracefully on his outstretched hand . A moment later, Diaval , Lucien’s black raven, swooped down and perched on Beatriz’s shoulder , watching the scene with curiosity, as if preparing to witness something interesting.

To her surprise, Beatriz noticed that the dove looked radiant , with shinier, silkier feathers and a new burst of energy .

—You always have to make a grand entrance, don’t you? —Beatriz muttered, folding her arms.

Lucien laughed warmly and casually.

—You make it sound too easy.

The dove flapped her wings enthusiastically, as if agreeing with him, while Diaval tilted his head, attentively watching his owners with a questioning gaze.

—Wow, this is the first time I’ve seen a dove act like a raven —Beatriz said, raising an eyebrow—. Maybe spending so much time with you turned her into one.

Lucien, with his typical arrogant flair, replied mockingly:

—You overestimate the adaptability of ravens.

Diaval let out a soft caw , as if asking to be left out of the conversation. Lucien, clearly amused, responded with a cryptic tone:

—Though there’s always the possibility that a raven could turn into a dove .

With that, he closed the door deliberately slowly, making sure the dove wouldn’t suddenly fly out. Then, not missing a beat, he glanced at Beatriz and asked casually:

—So, were you thinking of adopting her as your pet ?

Beatriz shrugged.

—I was thinking of letting her go free after this week.

Lucien observed her for a moment before offering a barely-there smile.

—Maybe the little dove was just waiting for you to come back.

Beatriz felt a subtle warmth creep into her cheeks. His tone was light, playful… but she couldn’t ignore the implication behind his words. Lucien always had that way of saying things that made her wonder whether he was really talking about the dove —or something else.

She looked away and cleared her throat.

—Well, let’s not stay here all night. Let’s go.

Minutes later, the two of them rode on Lucien’s motorcycle , heading toward the outskirts of the city . Snow fell in soft, dancing flakes, covering the streets in a delicate white layer. Eventually, they arrived at a lonely bridge , the scene straight out of a winter postcard .

Beatriz looked around, feeling a faint chill—not from the cold, but from something deeper , more unexplainable .

—Wait a second… —she murmured, surveying the scene—. This feels really familiar… Why do I have a déjà vu feeling?

Lucien leaned against the bridge railing and looked at her with amusement.

—Maybe… because some things are meant to repeat themselves .

Beatriz squinted at him, but the question continued circling in her mind. Where had she seen this before?

A Farewell in the Snow

The winter night wrapped the world in silence, broken only by the soft crunch of snow beneath Beatriz’s boots . The river below the city reflected the distant lights, flickering like trapped stars in the current. She held the box with the dove in both hands, her light blue coat dusted with icy flakes, scarf wrapped around her, and her breath forming tiny white clouds.

Lucien stood beside her, keeping his usual confident elegance . His black coat seemed to absorb the night’s light, as if shadows wrapped around him .

—Why did you choose this place? —Beatriz asked, looking at the river.

Lucien smiled, a mix of amusement and mystery in his expression.

—It’s a good place to let the dove go . Would’ve been a terrible idea to do it in zone N-109 . She wouldn’t have lasted a day.

Beatriz rolled her eyes and let out a soft chuckle.

—Dramatic as always. I know. That’s why I said you chose well.

The dove , still in her box, chirped softly, as if she understood what was being said. Her feathers were now radiant , her energy fully returned. But in her small movements, there was a hint of hesitation , of nostalgia .

Beatriz held her gently, stroking her head with a gloved finger.

—Don’t be sad —she whispered—. You’re healthy now. You’ve got new feathers, a new life .

Lucien watched the gesture and, in his usual mocking tone, asked:

—Is that how you see me?

Beatriz raised an eyebrow, confused.

—What do you mean?

—You say the dove is healed , with new feathers, a new life. What about me? Do I give you the same impression?

Beatriz smiled with a hint of mischief.

—I don’t think so. You’re way too confident. Although… you do have a warm way of taking care of things . In your own way. Maybe a bit rough, but you’re not bad .

Lucien clicked his tongue and looked away, as if the comment didn’t matter.

—You talk too much for someone who’s caring for a simple dove.

—I like living on the edge with you. —Beatriz winked—. Besides, you’re the one who said maybe a raven can become a dove .

—You overestimate the adaptability of ravens —he replied with a crooked smile.

Beatriz chuckled softly.

—And what about the chance of a dove becoming a raven ?

Lucien glanced sideways at her, his smile subtle.

—That would be more troublesome …

In that moment, Beatriz sighed and looked up.

—Well, since you insisted on spending so much time with her this week, I think you should be the one to let her go.

Lucien looked at her silently before agreeing. With gentle movements , he slid a finger under the dove’s body and lifted her carefully. The small creature perched on his hand, fluttering her wings softly, expectant.

—Before we let her go, do you want to say anything? —he asked, eyes still on the dove.

Beatriz took a deep breath.

—Yes… —she paused, the cold night curling around her words—. I’m glad to see you’re better, that your feathers shine again. I hope you find a place where you feel safe , warm … at home . That you fly high, that you live whatever life you’re meant to live.

Silence fell between them, broken only by the river’s murmur and the endless dance of snow.

Lucien looked at her a moment longer than necessary, as if weighing each word, as if there was something in them that belonged to him as much as to the dove. His fingers flexed slightly, then relaxed.

With one last look at Beatriz, he said softly, almost inaudibly:

— Go ahead.

And with a gentle push of his hand, the dove took flight , wings beating against the night sky, vanishing into the vast winter.

Lucien stayed where he was, watching her go.

Beatriz felt her chest tighten with a strange sensation, an echo of déjà vu she couldn’t quite place. Something about this scene, this farewell, the snow falling around them… felt familiar .

As if she had lived it before . As if she were saying goodbye to more than just a bird.

Lucien, eyes still on the sky, whispered without turning:

—Seems like some things don’t want to leave completely .

But Beatriz wasn’t sure if he was talking about the dove . Or something else.

The bird soared, disappearing into the snowlit sky. Beatriz followed her with her gaze until she vanished into the moonlight.

Then, as if fate wanted to make the moment even more surreal, a whistle pierced the air .

Beatriz looked up just as the first fireworks burst in the night sky. Colored lights bathed the heavens, reflecting off the river’s surface.

Her mouth opened slightly, speechless.

She turned to Lucien with an incredulous expression .

—You knew this was going to happen?

Lucien smiled with that unshakable Aries confidence .

—When things fall into place… they fall into place.

Golden and silver lights continued to explode across the sky. For a few moments, only the sound of fireworks filled the silence between them.

Then, Lucien spoke.

—You think too highly of me. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I’m not a philanthropist . A man’s heart goes where his treasure is.

Beatriz felt a lump in her throat . The words hit her in a way she didn’t expect. She wasn’t sure if it was how he said them or what they implied, but something deep inside stirred.

Before she could stop it, her eyes welled up. Tears began to roll down her cheeks.

Lucien wasn’t looking at her at that moment, but her broken voice alerted him.

—I don’t care —Beatriz muttered, referring to how poorly he thought of himself.

Lucien turned immediately, catching the fragility in her voice.

—What’s wrong?

He pulled out a handkerchief and, in a gallant gesture, used it to wipe away her tears.

—I didn’t think the farewell would hit you this hard —he teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Beatriz let out a trembling laugh.

—With all that snow in your hair… even a black raven can become a white dove .

Lucien let out a soft chuckle, eyes back on the sky.

Beatriz looked down and noticed a small drawing he had scratched into the railing. A simple cat .

—What are you drawing?

—You.

She laughed when she saw it was a cat.

—Nice reference, but honestly… I don’t feel like a cat.

—No?

Beatriz shook her head as she sketched something too, using simple lines .

—If I had to choose, I’d say I’m a snake and an owl . The snake because it’s not venomous—it just sheds its skin and adapts to survive. And the owl… because it’s wise .

Lucien went silent, watching her. He didn’t make a joke. Didn’t change the subject.

For the first time that night, he simply paused to think.

And that pause, in him, said everything.

The two looked away for a moment, as if the weight of their words still hung between them, loaded with meanings they didn’t fully understand. Beatriz, cheeks flushed and heart racing, began connecting the dots in her mind. She now understood the real purpose behind all this. It wasn’t a grand gesture , nor a move to impress her. No.

It was simply his way of showing the warmth within him .

She couldn’t help it. With slow steps, almost afraid to break the moment, she approached and gently hugged him . At first, she felt Lucien’s body tense in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected the gesture. Beatriz closed her eyes, resting her forehead on his shoulder, and whispered softly:

—Let me stay like this for a moment…

Lucien didn’t respond immediately. He stayed still, and Beatriz could feel his breathing slow. Then, with his usual relaxed tone, though with a faint laugh in his voice, he replied:

—What? You want to take our relationship to the next level?

Beatriz smiled without pulling away.

—Maybe we’re just two animals getting to know each other better .

Something in her answer seemed to disarm him. As if she had found the one phrase that could lower his guard. Without another word, Lucien let out a sigh and, as naturally as the air around them, hugged her back .

—Aren’t you cold? —he asked in a murmur.

Beatriz shook her head gently, still holding onto him.

Lucien didn’t insist. Instead, he slid his hand down to take hers, intertwining their fingers with the same ease that fireworks disappear into the sky. Without saying another word, he guided her off the bridge , slowly moving away from the glowing snow and the shimmering lights on the water.

As they walked, Beatriz reflected on everything she had just experienced. In the game, it had all been a pretty cinematic , a scripted moment to charm players. But now… now she saw it with new eyes. There was something beyond what the screen had shown her. Something that couldn’t be understood just by watching from a distance.

In the end, she let out a quiet sigh and, unable to stop herself from smiling, thought:

"Well, now I owe him a date too."

Chapter Text

Winter had passed , leaving behind only the memory of snow-covered streets and icy gusts that once bit into her skin. Now, the cold lingered only in Dr. Kael’s consultation room , a white, aseptic space where the scent of disinfectant floated constantly in the air.

Beatriz sat on the examination table , arms crossed over her chest as the doctor reviewed her latest test results on a tablet .

Her relationship with him was… complicated . Not bad, but definitely uncomfortable at times.

She admired him—that was undeniable. Kael was a genius in his field, someone who worked tirelessly and had an impressive track record in medicine. If there was any character that initially struck her as charming due to his reliable demeanor and pragmatism , it was him. A textbook Virgo . Serious, meticulous, with jet-black hair and olive-green eyes , and a medical knowledge so vast that he could rattle off clinical facts with zero filter.

At first, that had seemed funny—like talking to Virgo Shaka , but with more human empathy. In a fairer world, Kael would have been the ideal standard of what a doctor should be.

But that didn’t mean she liked him.

With her gaze fixed on the floor, she remembered how it had all begun.

Memories of “Innocent Kael”

Beatriz had first met him in the game as a character who seemed cold and reserved . But there was one moment—brief though it was—that she’d found genuinely adorable: a date at a restaurant .

The protagonist had agreed to go out with him without much expectation. The evening was going smoothly, until Kael got distracted by a stray cat wandering near the restaurant. The problem? He had no idea how to approach it.

—Don’t move so abruptly —Isekaiyada advised with a smile, just outside the game screen.

But it was already too late. The cat gave Kael a suspicious glare and darted off, leaving him with his hand frozen midair, his expression carefully neutral—but tinged with disappointment .

That was when the protagonist noticed it.

Kael, for all his rigidity, had been trying to connect . And when he thought no one was looking, he extended his hand and conjured a tiny ice sculpture in the shape of the cat that had rejected him. It was a detail so subtle it could’ve gone unnoticed—but she saw it clearly.

The rest of the dinner flowed with an unexpectedly warm atmosphere . Kael discreetly pushed all the carrots off his plate, as if no one would notice—but the protagonist did.

—So the great Doctor Kael hates carrots —she teased.

He narrowed his eyes slightly.

—I don’t hate them. I just don’t like them.

The protagonist chuckled softly and, for the first time, saw him in a different light. In that moment, he seemed… sweet .

But everything changed once she delved deeper into his romance route .

When Sweetness Turned Uncomfortable

Beatriz remembered it well. The real issue was the letter-dates .

The initial interactions were pleasant, but as the story progressed, the scenes with Kael became too intense for her liking.

There was one moment in particular—a nighttime tenderness scene —where his tone of voice dropped, his gaze became too deep, his gestures too intimate . The voice acting … was just too much .

So much so that she had to mute the audio .

Beatriz frowned slightly on the exam table. Remembering it still made her uncomfortable . It wasn’t that Kael was a bad person—he definitely wasn’t. But the intensity with which he experienced romance… the way he touched , spoke , and looked at her as if he might lose himself in her at any second…

It was as if Kael—normally so composed— clung to those moments as his only true escape.

It wasn’t for her.

And that had been enough to rule him out .

Back in the Consultation Room

—Beatriz? —Kael’s voice broke through her spiraling thoughts.

She blinked and looked up, meeting his serene gaze. He was watching her with one eyebrow slightly raised, clearly waiting for a reply to something she hadn’t heard.

—Ah… sorry. What did you say?

Kael sighed, setting the tablet down on the table.

—I said your test results are fine. But you seem… distracted .

Too distracted .

Beatriz looked away.

—It’s nothing. Just… thoughts.

Kael didn’t push. He simply observed her for a few seconds longer, then returned to his work. But something in his expression told her he didn’t quite believe her .

Later That Day

The blade sliced through the air with precision before sinking into the creature’s joint , producing a metallic crack followed by a distorted screech . Beatriz pivoted on her heel, narrowly dodging the attack of another Wander that tried to charge her. These entities were more annoying than dangerous , but when they came in large numbers…

They became a serious nuisance .

Especially when the weather turned unpredictable .

The first thunderclap rolled through the sky, and moments later, fat raindrops began to fall over the city. Beatriz sighed, taking brief shelter under a worn-out awning , weathered by time.

She hadn’t prepared for this.

—If only I understood how the weather works here… —she murmured, shaking the rain from her hair .

For some reason, it reminded her of the Valley of Puebla back in her original world. Unstable , fickle , capable of changing without warning. And for someone used to analyzing patterns and predicting behavior , having to adapt to a new system was a real pain.

While waiting for the rain to ease, her mind wandered to recent memories .

More specifically… to Leticia .

Leticia: Her Unexpected "Bestie"

Beatriz had met her in the elevator of the medical complex . Nothing special at first: just two people stuck in the same space, waiting to reach their floor.

But her appearance caught attention .

She had a face that inspired trust and calm —essential traits for a doctor committed to the well-being of her patients. Her skin, warm and even-toned, reflected care and vitality , radiating a sense of comfort that could soothe even the most restless souls. Her eyes held the mirror of her passion for medicine—a mix of deep focus and empathy , capable of discerning a patient’s needs in a single glance.

Her features were balanced and professional : well-defined cheekbones that gave her a quiet air of authority , and a strong jawline that hinted at inner strength and determination . Her expression was usually accompanied by a subtle smile—one that promised understanding and warmth in tough moments.

Her dark, glossy hair was always neatly tied in a functional bun , highlighting her focus on practicality and hygiene in a medical setting. It was a detail that not only reflected her discipline , but also her respect for her profession and her commitment to those who depended on her.

But then, Leticia let out a sigh of exasperation and muttered:

—I hope no one tries to surprise me with chocolates again this year.

The comment sparked Beatriz’s curiosity. She tilted her head slightly.

—You don’t like chocolate?

Leticia gave a dry little laugh.

—I love it. But I buy it for myself. I don’t need Valentine’s Day to enjoy it.

Beatriz smiled. Something about Leticia’s attitude reminded her of her spiritual twin brother , Frateley.

—Let me guess —Beatriz continued—. Your birthday’s on February 14th , and you’re sick of all the clichés?

Leticia looked at her with surprise, as if she’d just read her mind.

—…Yes.

And just like that, the conversation flowed naturally . Leticia talked about how she preferred to celebrate her birthday alone—with a long bath and binge-watching series no one else understood . Beatriz, in turn, admitted she never understood why people assumed that being born on a special date meant you had to celebrate in a certain way.

When the elevator doors opened, Leticia gave her a look of appraisal and approval .

—I like you.

Beatriz blinked, surprised by the sudden statement.

—That fast?

—You’re the first person in years who hasn’t made a cheesy comment about my birthday —Leticia said with a lopsided smile—. So yes. —She handed her a card with her personal phone number .

From that day on, they became besties .

Back in the Storm

The sound of tires splashing through puddles pulled her out of her thoughts. Beatriz looked up just as a dark vehicle stopped in front of her. The passenger-side window slid down with a soft hum, revealing a familiar face .

Kael looked at her with his usual neutral expression, though one arched brow betrayed a hint of displeasure at seeing her like this.

— Get in.

Beatriz blinked.

— Huh?

Kael sighed, as if he were explaining something obvious.

—It’s dangerous to stay out in the rain in this area. I’ll take you home.

Beatriz hesitated. Not because she didn’t trust him, but because she wasn’t used to accepting help so easily. Still, considering the storm wasn’t letting up and her clothes were already soaked...

She opened the car door and slid inside.

Kael didn’t speak at first. He simply adjusted the heating system and started driving. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it carried a subtle weight, as if he wanted to ask something but held himself back.

Finally, it was Beatriz who broke the quiet.

— You didn’t have to.

— I know.

His response was so direct it threw her off.

— Then why?

Kael kept his eyes on the road, but his fingers tensed slightly on the wheel.

—Because I’m worried that you don’t know when to accept help.

A chill ran down her spine—one that had nothing to do with the cold.

The sound of the rain pounding on the roof filled the silence. Beatriz stared blankly at the droplets racing down the window , watching how the city blurred beyond the veil of water.

Kael drove in silence, as if trying to find the right words to fill the gap. But Beatriz wasn’t in the mood for small talk. Her mind was still caught in the tension of her own mistake.

She’d sat in the passenger seat .

It wasn’t a big deal, right? Just a car, just a ride, just a heavy rain that led her to accept the lift. But sitting there, in that seat—that wasn’t what she usually did. In any other situation, with anyone else, she would have taken the back seat , keeping a safe distance .

But not with Kael. And now she regretted it.

The flickering lights from the buildings reflected on the car’s dashboard. Kael, for his part, seemed calm, though he occasionally shot brief glances her way, as if trying to read her mood .

—You shouldn’t have waited under that awning until the rain let up —he finally commented, his tone light, almost casual.

Beatriz tried to reply, but her voice didn’t come immediately.

— I didn’t think it’d get worse —she managed, though she sounded far away.

Kael nodded, eyes returning to the road.

—The weather here is unpredictable . Like Puebla , right?

🎵 Undertale - Gaster's Theme

Beatriz blinked. She hadn’t expected Kael to say that. She hadn’t expected anyone here to compare things to her original world .

It didn’t feel natural.

The mention shook her, but before she could spiral deeper into the thought, she felt Kael’s hand rest on her thigh .

It was immediate.

Her mind didn’t register the gesture as one of comfort or care. Her body reacted first .

The weight of the hand—it wasn’t that of a concerned doctor.

It was something else.
Something Beatriz never wanted to feel again .

The air turned thick. The pressure of his hand wasn’t strong, but it was enough to drag her back. Back in time. Back into a memory.

It wasn’t Kael.

It wasn’t the rain, it wasn’t the car.

It was an involuntary flashback .

A larger hand. A hand that never should’ve been there. The hand of an abuser —a military man who had left his mark on her during childhood.

Without thinking, Beatriz reacted . She grabbed his wrist forcefully , yanking it away with a strength that came from somewhere deep and wordless .

— Kael… no.

Her voice came out low, barely more than a broken whisper , but it was enough.
Enough for him to feel the rejection .
The word “no” wasn’t just a word—it was a scream from within. A defiance against fear.

Kael froze. His eyes searched Beatriz’s face, trying to understand. He had thought it was a simple gesture of closeness. A clumsy attempt to shorten the distance he’d always felt between them. But what he saw in her eyes wasn’t discomfort.

It was fear .

He didn’t understand it.
But he wanted to.

— I didn’t mean to… —he murmured, withdrawing his hand slowly—. Did I do something wrong?

Beatriz’s breath came in short, sharp gasps, her heart pounding in her chest. The image of another face, another moment, still burned behind her eyes.

— It’s not that… —she closed her eyes, trying to steady herself—. I just… can’t.

I can’t.

Kael stayed quiet, watching her. What he felt wasn’t anger. Not even disappointment.
It was something colder.
Heavier.

Beatriz couldn’t stay there.

Her instincts screamed for space . For air . For distance .

Without another thought, she opened the car door .

— Beatriz.

She didn’t look at him.
She couldn’t .

Kael didn’t stop her physically, but his voice reached her before she stepped out.

— Are you really leaving like this…?

The rain hit her face as she exited. It was a relief .

She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her decision.

— Yes, —she said without turning—. I’m sorry, Kael. I need to be alone.

She didn’t wait for his reply.
She didn’t want to hear it.

The rain soaked her in seconds, but the cold didn’t matter.
She needed to move . To get away.
From the car.
From the scene.
From the invisible weight crushing her chest.

She didn’t know if what she’d done was right.
But she knew she couldn’t stay.

The Talk with Leticia

Beatriz sat in her room, staring out at the storm lashing the city . The rain hit the window in a steady, almost hypnotic rhythm, but her mind was still trapped in the events from just hours ago .

The night’s chill still clung to her skin, mixed with the dampness in her clothes. She’d taken a quick shower—her hair still dripped a little—but the heaviest weight she carried was guilt .

She wasn’t sure if she’d done the right thing.
She couldn’t stop thinking about Kael’s expression— the moment it all broke .

Had she been too harsh? Too unfair?

A tight knot formed in her stomach. She couldn’t face this alone… but she wasn’t ready to talk about it openly either.

So instead, she picked up her phone and called Leticia .

— Can you come? —she asked, her voice trembling, too tired to hide it.

Leticia didn’t ask questions. Twenty minutes later, she appeared in Beatriz’s room with a cup of hot tea in hand. Her presence, as always, radiated that comforting calm—like she knew exactly what Beatriz needed , even before Beatriz did.

Leticia placed the tea on the nightstand and sat beside her on the bed.

—I saw you come in soaking wet —she said gently. Since she lived in the same residential complex as Beatriz and Emil, she’d noticed—. Something happened, Beatriz. It wasn’t just the rain that made you run like that.

Beatriz clenched her hands in her lap. She felt vulnerable , but if anyone could understand her, it was Leticia.

—It’s Doctor Kael… —she murmured, a shiver running down her spine as she said his name—. I didn’t mean for things to happen like that. I think I hurt him.

Leticia didn’t speak right away. She just watched her with patient eyes, giving her space to continue.

—It’s… complicated —Beatriz let out a shaky sigh—. He didn’t do anything bad . But when he… touched my leg, even though it was just a gesture… I couldn’t handle it.

Her voice cracked.

—It was like my body reacted before I could think. I didn’t see his hand—I saw something else . Something that shouldn’t have been there. And I pushed him away. Hard. When I saw his face…

She trailed off, her breathing uneven.

Leticia, still silent, handed her the cup of hot tea . Beatriz took it with both hands, the warmth seeping into her skin.

— Did you feel trapped? —Leticia asked softly.

Beatriz nodded slowly.

—I can’t control when it happens. It’s like… I disconnect, and I can’t breathe. But I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want him to think I hate him, or that I’m rejecting him…

Leticia looked at her with both kindness and firmness .

—Beatriz, what you feel is valid —she said with quiet strength—. You don’t have to justify it. Kael didn’t know how you’d react—but that doesn’t mean you have to endure something just because he meant well.

Beatriz lowered her eyes. Her fingers trembled around the cup.

—I know… but it still hurts to think I might’ve hurt him unintentionally. I don’t know if I did the right thing.

Leticia sighed and took her hand—gently, without pressure.

—Listen to me —she said, waiting until Beatriz looked up—. You didn’t push Kael away. You showed him a boundary . And if he truly cares about you, he’ll learn to respect it. He’ll understand that this isn’t rejection—it’s something inside you that needs time, patience, and understanding .

Beatriz swallowed hard.

— What if I pushed him away for good? —she whispered—. I don’t want to be that person who always ends up hurting others.

Leticia shook her head.

—You’re not that person, Beatriz. What you did wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t rejection. It was self-protection . And the people who truly belong in your life—those who love you—will find a way to come close without hurting you .

Beatriz felt something inside her loosen. She could breathe again.

— Thank you, Leticia… —she murmured—. But can you promise me something?

Leticia smiled.

— Of course.

— Don’t tell anyone. I don’t want to worry anyone more than I already do.

Leticia gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

— I promise.

Beatriz closed her eyes for a moment. There were still emotions left to unravel, but at least now, she didn’t feel alone .

Beatriz closed her eyes for a moment. She knew there were still many emotions left to process, but at least for now, she no longer felt alone in it.

She remained silent after her conversation with Leticia , feeling the weight on her chest becoming more manageable—though not entirely gone. She had managed to express her feelings, but now came the hardest part: facing the reality of her connection with Kael .

She knew he wasn’t a bad person. On the contrary—she admired him, respected him, and deep down, wanted to find a way to mend what had happened without betraying herself . But the sensation of having lost control in that moment still haunted her.

She placed a hand over her chest, trying to understand the difference. With Lucien , she had never felt that stab of fear , nor the instinctive need to pull away . But with Kael… her body had reacted before her mind could stop it .

Perhaps because, in a way, she knew more about him than she was willing to admit.

She knew his other side .

The one that haunted her dreams in the form of "Dawnbreaker" —a twisted version of himself, like a male Ice Queen , loyal to the game’s dark entity . Dawnbreaker wasn’t just an alter ego… he was a latent threat . And in her nightmares, Beatriz had seen how that darker side took over his will and plunged the world into an eternal winter , condemning everything to darkness .

It was then that Beatriz realized something: Zayne’s intensity in romantic moments wasn’t random. It was his desperate way of clinging to the one thing he could still control . Perhaps that was why he was so passionate in his interactions—because he felt the only thing he could truly possess were those fleeting moments of intimacy .

But there was another point she couldn’t ignore: the original protagonist of the game.

The chat logs on the phone made it clear—she had flirted with everyone like they were options on a menu . And while that might have been part of the game’s mechanics , Beatriz couldn’t continue approaching relationships that way.

It wasn’t fair —not to them, and especially not to herself .

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
She had made a decision .

She picked up her phone, hesitating for just a second before dialing Kael’s number . She wasn’t ready to face him in person, but she also didn’t want to let more time pass.

The dial tone rang a few times before he answered.

— Beatriz.

His voice was calm, but she could hear the subtle tension beneath it.

— Kael… —she swallowed hard—. I need to talk to you.

— I’m listening.

She laced her fingers together in her lap.

—First of all… I want to apologize for what happened. I know I hurt you when I pushed your hand away, and it wasn’t my intention.

There was a brief silence before he replied.

—You don’t need to apologize for that. It was my mistake—for not realizing how you might feel.

—Even so… I want you to know it wasn’t personal . It’s not that I’m rejecting you, or that I see you as someone who could hurt me. It’s just… there are things inside me that I’m still learning to understand.

Kael didn’t respond immediately, which gave Beatriz the courage to continue .

—That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I’ve been reflecting a lot, and I think I used to believe that the best way to connect with someone was the way I used to before, but… I know now that I don’t want that for myself .

Her heart was pounding, but she forced herself to go on.

— I respect you , Kael. And I admire you . But I need to set a boundary . I don’t want interactions of that kind anymore. That doesn’t mean I don’t value our relationship. I just want it to be different .

This time, the silence stretched longer. When Kael finally spoke, his voice was softer .

— I understand.

Beatriz exhaled, realizing she had been holding her breath .

— Thank you.

— Thank you for telling me —Kael replied, with a calmness she hadn’t expected—. And for trusting me enough to talk about it.

Beatriz closed her eyes, feeling a strange peace wash over her. She still didn’t know what would happen next.

But at least she had taken the first step .

— See you soon, Kael.

— See you, Beatriz.

She hung up and set the phone aside. Hugging her knees to her chest, she gazed out the window with a small, quiet smile .

For the first time in a long while,
she felt like she was finally in control of her own story .

Chapter Text

After the call with Kael , Beatriz was still deep in thought when her phone buzzed with a message. It was from Lucien .

Lucien: "Beatriz, I hope I’m not interrupting, but I have an interesting proposal for you. Would you like to accompany me to an event tonight?"

Beatriz raised an eyebrow.
An event?

Beatriz: "Depends. What kind of event?"
Lucien: "A high-level fashion show. It might be useful for you to get a feel for this world’s trends and, who knows, maybe you’ll find something you like."

She exhaled. Now that did catch her attention. Ever since she arrived, none of the local fashion had really convinced her. The prices were absurd , and although the quality was undeniable , she felt most of what she’d seen didn’t fit her style.

Besides, this could be a good opportunity to distract herself—and to analyze the fashion industry of this world in more depth. She grabbed her notebook and quickly scribbled a reminder:
"Observe cuts, materials, and tailoring techniques."

Beatriz: "I’m in. But don’t expect me to wear a dress. I’m going in a suit."
Lucien: "Perfect. I actually think that would suit you very well. I’ll pick you up in two hours."
Beatriz: "See you then."

She hung up and got moving.

Beatriz knew Lucien was a significant figure, so she had to show up looking impeccable. She searched through her wardrobe for something close to what she had in mind and ended up with a sober yet elegant ensemble: straight-leg trousers , a tailored blazer , and a light blouse .

However, as she got ready in front of the mirror, her mind was already focused on the runway . She wanted to see how designers were adapting fashion to this world—what sewing techniques were dominant, what fabrics were most used.

She opened her small jewelry case, looking for something to match her outfit. She wasn’t used to dressing up so much, but if she was going to a high-profile event with Lucien, she at least needed to look presentable .

As she searched through the accessories, her hand brushed the edge of the box and, before she could stop it, several pieces fell to the floor with a soft metallic clink.

Clicking her tongue, she knelt to gather them, quickly stacking up rings and earrings . But one piece caught her attention immediately.

It was a silver chain necklace with a thick military-style tag . On its surface, engraved in elegant cursive, were the words:

"When U come back."

Beatriz frowned. There was something oddly familiar about those words. Hanging next to the tag was a small silver apple charm , with a red gem set in the center.

For a moment, a vague memory flashed through her mind. She wasn’t sure, but she felt like she had seen something similar in a cinematic scene from the game. The thought faded as quickly as it came.

— "Not the time to think about that," she whispered to herself, tucking the necklace back into the jewelry case and closing the lid.

Through the window, she saw Lucien already waiting in his car. She took a deep breath, grabbed her notebook, and left without looking back.

Her thoughts flickered again toward the necklace with the metal plate as she descended the stairs.
"When U come back."

The phrase felt vaguely familiar , but she couldn’t remember exactly where from. Maybe from some cutscene in the game... though she hadn’t paid much attention to it back then.

There was something about the way certain scenes were crafted that felt too forced , too perfect , as if they were selling a standardized ideal of love . That’s why she had set the story to auto-mode while doing other things.

She only vaguely remembered there being an explosion in that scene—but little else. To avoid the tedium of playing through all the dialogue, she’d preferred reading summaries on the wiki and forums , which meant she had missed out on some details.

She shook her head.
Not the time.
She tossed the jewelry box onto the bed and hurried out. Lucien was waiting.

At the fashion show

Lucien and Beatriz arrived at the entrance of the fashion event, where security was tight. Metal detectors, ID scanners, and impeccably dressed guards ensured only the right guests passed through the golden doors. But for Lucien, it was merely a formality. He pulled out VIP passes from his pocket and, with a confident smile, handed them to the attendant. Seconds later, they were granted access without objection.

Beatriz couldn’t help noticing the elegance of the setup. It wasn’t surprising that Lucien was wealthy—she knew his true nature. She had no doubt about the source of his fortune: his “natural treasure” was made clear in the game’s lore. She knew he could materialize gold with a mere gesture. She’d seen that in one of the few cinematics that actually caught her interest.

“An unlimited fortune… he can summon it in his palm. How convenient,” she thought wryly.

Lucien didn't need theatrics now. A single black card in his wallet—a Centurion-style card normal people couldn’t even touch—covered every luxury he could wish for. Beatriz smirked inwardly at the absurdity. If she didn’t know better, she’d have wondered where all that money came from.

The hall was impressive. A giant chandelier hung at the center, casting a golden glow over the fashion elite. Waiters circulated with champagne trays, and classical music floated in the air. Designers, models, and entrepreneurs mingled in small groups, all impeccably dressed and fully aware of their status.

Beatriz stood poised, hiding how fascinated she was by the scene. She knew Lucien was watching her from the corner of his eye, waiting for any sign of being impressed. But she refused to give him that pleasure.

“Don’t think I’ll fall for your charm, Lucien. This is just another event,” she told herself, remembering lines from Kaguya Shinomiya.

Still, it did captivate her. She’d taken event planning workshops in her past life, and everything here screamed precision. Seat layout, lighting, even the rhythm of the waiters’ steps… it all hinted at near-perfect execution.

Lucien guided her to their seats, in a privileged area right in front of the runway. From there, they had the best view of the show.

— “I hope you enjoy the show,” Lucien said, that same half-smile of his.

Beatriz gave him a brief glance before settling into her seat.

— “I’ll try,” she replied.

And with that, the event was about to begin.

They were seated in the best VIP section. The runway, lit with strategically placed lights, stretched before them like a futuristic stage. Lucien—relaxed and regal—appeared totally at ease. He nodded occasionally at designers or models who recognized him.

Beatriz, however, maintained a reserved posture. Her eyes swept the room with precision, though she feigned disinterest. She didn’t want to give Lucien satisfaction. Silently, she slipped a small notepad from her purse and began writing with quick, discreet strokes.

Lucien noticed immediately. His gaze flicked momentarily toward the notebook, but he said nothing—he simply stored the detail in his mind.

The lights dimmed, and the music shifted to a rich melody that evoked the fusion of metal and technology. The first model appeared, walking with an ethereal air, draped in structured, shining garments that looked almost holographic, shifting color with her movement.

Beatriz watched closely, her eyes roaming across the designs, analyzing colors and textures. Lucien spotted a subtle change in her expression—a slight hint of disapproval, neither surprise nor delight.

“Interesting,” he thought, still observing her.

In Beatriz’s mind, thoughts swirled. The clothes were visually striking, but something felt off.

“They look nice... but who’d wear this on the street?”

It was a fashion show, designed to impress. But she sought wearable pieces she could integrate into real life without losing their essence. As the models marched on, she discreetly jotted:

“Main colors: metallic blues, neon purples, bright white. Textures: synthetic, reflective, structural trend.”

She focused more on tones and materials than cuts—knowing those hinted at next-season trends.

Lucien, silent, crossed his legs elegantly. He didn’t interrupt her, but it was clear he enjoyed watching her as much as the show itself.

The runway proceeded, and Beatriz—unaware—became immersed in her own analysis.

Models moved with precise timing, the music synced with the lighting, everything went as planned. But Beatriz noticed something no one else did.

The lights .

A nearly imperceptible flicker near the top of the stage made her squint. At first, she assumed it was a lighting cue adjustment, but when irregular flashes reappeared at different spots, she realized it was unplanned.

“If those lights fail, they could cast odd shadows… or worse, cause a partial blackout.”

She sighed inwardly. It wasn’t her job, but she couldn’t help mentally calculating the risks.

Without turning to Lucien, she said naturally:

— “I'll go to the restroom.”

Lucien raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He watched as she gracefully rose and slipped through the crowd, moving like one of the runway models.

Once out of sight, her posture shifted. She strode swiftly and precisely toward the lighting structure, spotting a couple of technicians in mild panic with the wrong tools.

She didn’t hesitate—slipped a Swiss Army knife from her pocket, approached covertly.

— “Hand that to me for a sec,” she murmured, easing a loose cable before the technician could react.

The men glanced at each other, surprised by her presence. But when they saw her determined face, they didn’t object. Beatriz worked efficiently—cutting a cable section accurately, tightening a connection with the knife’s tiny screwdriver. Another tweak, and the lights stopped flickering.

The older technician started to speak, but Beatriz was already storing the knife back in her pocket.

— “That should hold until the show ends.”

Before they could thank her or ask questions, she vanished into the shadows, just as silently as she’d arrived.

What she didn't know was that Lucien had watched the entire time.

From his privileged seat, he’d seen her departure and, with his particle-teleporting ability, stayed nearby without interfering. What he saw fascinated him.

“First you spot the design details, now you fix a technical problem without hesitation or credit. Every time I think I’ve figured you out, another piece of the puzzle appears.”

With a slight smile, Lucien leaned back, resting an arm on the seatback as he watched Beatriz return with the same calm expression as before. As if nothing had happened.

But he noticed—and he wouldn’t forget.

When the event ended, applause filled the venue and lights dimmed for the finale. Beatriz remained seated, posture flawless, hands on her lap. She’d shown little visible interest—but Lucien knew she’d been scrutinizing every detail.

— “So,” he said, turning toward her with that relaxed air of his, “what did you think of the event?”

Beatriz didn’t respond immediately—she paused as if measuring her words surgically.

— “Interesting,” she finally replied neutrally. “Though some designs seemed impractical.”

Lucien smiled in that mysterious way he did.

— “Oh, how cruel. What if the designer is listening?”

— “They should be more realistic,” she responded simply, refusing to be baited.

He let out a light laugh, then didn’t press. Instead, he smoothly stood and offered his hand to help her up. She declined but rose naturally, as if the gesture didn’t exist.

— “Shall we go?” Lucien said, guiding her subtly toward the VIP exit.

The private parking lot was nearly empty; only a few luxury cars remained in the reserved spaces. Yet Lucien felt it—that subtle sense of being watched . It wasn’t paranoia, but experience .

He walked beside Beatriz to his vehicle, a sleek black car that looked tailor-made for him. Without showing any hint of concern, he opened the back door and gestured for her to get in.

— “Wait here. I need to speak with a designer before we leave.”

Beatriz raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. She settled into the back seat while Lucien gently shut the door.

Once he was sure she was inside, his expression shifted.

The air around him vibrated almost imperceptibly as he activated his ability . Like a flicker in reality, his body vanished in a flash of particles .

There he was.

A few meters away, hidden in the shadows of a column, a man held a camera , posture tense.

Lucien appeared behind him in an instant.

— “You know,” he murmured, his voice low and unhurried, “it’s not polite to spy .”

The man spun around sharply, but before he could react, Lucien lifted a finger.

Particles swirled around him with an ethereal glow. The spy felt his body go completely rigid .

No screams. No struggle. Only the soft sound of something beginning to disintegrate .

— “I won’t say anything…” the man whispered, a final attempt to cling to dignity.

Lucien smiled.

— “I know.”

And in an instant, the man’s body fragmented into millions of particles that drifted away like stardust .

The camera fell to the ground with a soft thud. Lucien picked it up and scanned its contents.

Images. All focused on Beatriz .

The light in his eyes dimmed for a moment. Not in surprise, but in confirmation .

“Perhaps the ones closest to you are the ones who want to hurt you.”

The phrase echoed in his mind with the weight of an old wound. One that still hurt .

“ Beatriz ” didn’t remember. She didn’t remember him .

She’d come back to his side, yes. But not with the same gaze. Not with the same certainty.

Lucien shut the camera coldly and crushed it into dust in his hand.

If fate wanted to play with them again, then he would play too. With patience. With cunning. With a mystery as deep and impenetrable as the night itself.

Chapter Text

The rain lashed fiercely against the window. A lightning bolt illuminated the corridor as Beatriz walked in silence, her wet boots leaving soft prints on the marble floor. She had come to inspect the facilities after some Wanders attacked the area. The emergency generator hummed low—almost imperceptibly—but what truly unsettled her was the stillness in the hospital. Every corridor felt deserted .

“Kael is still here ,” she thought. She knew , she could feel it.

She walked to a slightly open door. Inside, the doctor sat on a resting bench, his back hunched, breathing hard . His hands, covered in frost , trembled on his thighs. Chunks of ice melted slowly on the floor, forming dark puddles. And on his forearm… the skin was blackened .

— “Doctor Kael…?” she asked in a low, but firm voice.

He barely turned his head, visibly exhausted.

— “Beatriz… you shouldn’t be here.”

— “What happened to you…? Your skin… That’s not normal!”

She stepped closer without waiting for permission. When he tried to pull away, she had already reached him. She took his arm decisively . Kael gritted his teeth, but did not resist.

— “This isn’t new,” Beatriz said, rapidly examining him, “these scars are old. This has happened to you before!”

— “Since I was a child,” he whispered, “the ice… it’s always been like this. It protects, but it also punishes me.”

— “And yet you keep using it like nothing? As if you didn’t care…?” She released him forcefully. — “What kind of person keeps hurting themselves like this?”

— “One who has no choice.” Kael lowered his gaze, defeated.

Beatriz stared at him for a few seconds… then extended her hand.

— “Come with me. I have an idea.”

— “Where…?”

— “To the roof.” She was already pulling him. — “Trust me. I won’t freeze, I promise.”

— “I’m not worried about that. I’m worried you're thinking outside the box again…” he muttered in a faded attempt at humor.

— “Exactly. That’s the point.”

They climbed to the rain-drenched rooftop. The sky cracked with lightning, the city glowed in the distance as if alive. Beatriz spread her arms as though embracing the world.

— “You know what I think, Kael? That your power shouldn’t fear you… nor should it scare others.”**

He looked at her, hair plastered to his face, soaking wet, trembling more from emotion than the cold.

— “Close your eyes.”

— “What are you going to do?”

The rain pounded, the wind roared, and the city barely showed through the flashes. Kael, entrenched in his icy power , looked more like a dying statue than a man. Veins of ice streaked across his neck and arms—black and brittle. His body was about to give in.

Beatriz held him steady, standing before him.

— “Trust me,” she whispered, — “Let it out… toward me.”

Kael shivered. His breath formed frosted clouds.

— “You’ll freeze…”

— “No. I have something that can handle it,” she replied, placing her hand over his chest. — “My ether core can process it, purify it… if you let me.”

He nodded slowly.

Then Beatriz began humming softly. At first almost a murmur, but then clearer:

“Have you heard a wolf howl to the blue moon...?”

Pocahontas - Colors of the Wind (Blu-ray 1080p HD)  

The wind carried the melody. She was singing the lyrics from Colors in the Wind —a lullaby of warmth and reclamation. Kael blinked, puzzled, but the tone —it felt warm. Human .

And then it happened.

The ice peeled off his body in glowing flakes swirling between them. The atmosphere became ethereal, as if the world held its breath. Each note from Beatriz shaped the vortex growing between them. The wind twisted like an unseen dragon, charging the sky with pure energy.

The storm did not fade. It ascended .

Kael closed his eyes. He released the fear, the guilt, the pain. The ice exhaled from his chest like a sigh held for years. Beatriz raised her right arm, fingers reaching the sky, her ether core shining like a trapped star .

The icy vortex rose high. Then, as the final flake passed between their hands, she opened her eyes.

— “Now!”

A golden flash burst from her center, cutting across the sky like a wave. The remaining ice evaporated instantly…and a near-sacred silence descended upon the city.

Gradually, the clouds dispersed. And then, as though blessed by the heavens, it appeared:

A perfect halo rainbow framing the rising sun.

The residual ice hovered in the atmosphere, transforming the dawn’s light into an impossible spectacle: a round rainbow , shining above them like a corona of hope.

Kael, kneeling, breathless, stared at the sky with wide eyes.

— “How… did you do that?”

Beatriz, soaked, hair stuck to her brow, smiled tiredly.

— “I just helped you think outside the box.”

Kael remained on his knees, exhaling warm mist. The cold no longer embraced him as punishment. For the first time… it didn’t hurt.

Beatriz lowered her arm, exhausted, and let herself collapse beside him, leaning on the metal railing of the roof. She was drenched, encrusted in sparkling frost, but her face held a serene expression.

The rainbow continued suspended, an echo of the impossible.

Kael looked at her in silence. Not with worship, nor as if she were a deity… but like a scientist who has witnessed an unexplainable miracle .

— “Thank you,” he finally whispered in a low voice.

It wasn’t just a “thank you.” It felt like he had waited his whole life to say it, unaware until now why. It came from that fragile place he always hid beneath logic, responsibility, duty.

Beatriz smiled. She said nothing. She simply offered him her shoulder .

Kael, against all reason, rested his head upon it.

A warm silence settled between them. No longer doctor and patient. No longer ice and flame. They were two beings who, for an instant, found each other amid chaos at a point of perfect balance .

And although Kael did not know it yet… something had shifted within him. As if an unseen teacher had touched his soul with a lesson he didn’t fully understand, but would never forget.

Perhaps he didn’t understand why he could trust her.

Perhaps he didn’t know that “Beatriz was older,” or that she was a teacher.

But what he did know…

…was that this woman had just saved him . Not with power, but with something else.

With presence . With patience . With truth .

And sometimes, that is all the heart needs to begin melting.

Kael still held his trembling hand aloft as his breath steadied. The frost on his skin began to melt, drop by drop, until only a trace of warm water ran down his wrist.

And then he noticed.

Where that frost mark always appeared—the sign warning him of a new outburst —there was nothing.
Just skin.

For a moment, he thought it was an illusion , that he had fallen asleep, that his body was hallucinating from the pain.
But no. The cold was still there, inside him… only now it didn’t hurt . It didn’t punish him. It was as if, for the first time, he had learned to listen to it without fear.

And from some distant corner of the universe, among dormant stars and unborn worlds, a soft voice echoed unheard. The voice of Matter Somniorum :
“Could it have been a curse … or merely a path poorly tread?
How many times do we mistake a cage for punishment, when in truth it was a door never pushed?
What is power , if not the way the soul decides to embrace pain ?”

Kael couldn’t hear it. But something had ignited in his chest.
A gentle warmth .
A spark .

Beatriz remained there beside him, gazing at the clear sky and the floating crystals still dancing like frozen stars. She said nothing. No words were needed.
Because there are bonds forged not through speech, nor promises, nor sighs…
But through the courage to see another—and not run away.

Beatriz watches the clear sky from the rooftop. The frosted rainbow still hovers above them, like a memory refusing to fully melt away.
Kael has already left—at her insistence—wrapped in a blanket and coughing like a soaked cat. Beatriz smiles tenderly at the memory of him.

Then... she sighs. She sits at the edge of the rooftop, letting the wind toss her bangs.
“Why was it so hard for him…? Why would someone so brilliant accept living with a curse just to avoid disobeying an unfair command…?”
“Why do we always think love has to hurt , that duty means silencing the heart, that our stories must be tragic to have worth…?”

She lowers her gaze to her own hands. She still feels the faint tingle of ice dissolving between her fingers.
“It’s not just about defeating enemies, nor accumulating power… It’s about imagining something different. Something that that entity… that thing that condemned him… could never comprehend.”
“Because no matter how old or wise a deity believes itself to be… None can imagine as a human can.”

She smiles. Closes her eyes and lets the breeze caress her.
“Perhaps that’s why… I was able to save him. Because I didn’t come to this world to repeat history. I came to write another.”

She lowers her gaze. There are still traces of frost on her palm—but they don’t burn . They don’t hurt.
And right in the center of her hand, as sketched by the last drifting flakes, a shape begins to take form. A flower.
A lotus flower .

Beatriz blinks, feeling something release.
“I’m not her. I’m not the one from the past, not the one who became ice nor the one who accepted the rules of a cold world. I am another.”
And then she smiles. An old and new smile at the same time.
“Because only a human can imagine a different ending. And that imagination … is something no deity can master.”

She sighs, closes her eyes, letting the wind embrace her.
She opens her eyes and murmurs with humor:
—‍“I already feel ancient like Frieren. I only lack the staff and a half-stubborn disciple…”
She laughs to herself.
But that laugh, though brief, is more radiant than all the ice in the world.

Days passed with relative calm. Beatriz, lying on her bed while reviewing some reports on her tablet, decided to call the hospital to confirm her follow-up appointment time.
When she was connected to Dr. Kael’s office, the voice on the other end was low, raspy… and accompanied by a couple of poorly disguised coughs .
—“D‑Doctor Kael… are you sick?”

There was an uncomfortable silence.
—“I’m not sick,” he replied with icy dignity. “It’s just a slight… atmospheric reaction .”
—“Uh‑huh. A reaction to the storm, the wind, exhaustion… or to the fact that someone made you trust for the first time?”

Kael didn’t respond.
Beatriz smiled.
—“I’ll bring you something special. And this time you can’t refuse it—Dr. Beatriz says so.”
—“…You’re not a doctor.”
—“But I should be.”

The call ended with the promise of a future meeting and the hope of forging new relationships based on a healthier love , like Storge .

[A few days later – Kael’s office]
The clock reads 22:47. Everyone has left, except him.
Kael breathes deeply. His desk is covered with papers, health reports, new ether crystal records, but he isn’t looking at any of it.

In his palm, a blue frost accumulates slowly, dancing to the rhythm of his breath. He is shaping it. Focused, meticulous. Like a proper Virgo: patient, detail-oriented, obsessed with control and symbolism.
—“Just a small jasmine flower ,” he muses to himself, as if the phrase didn’t carry years of frozen history.

The particles gather. The shape begins to emerge… the petals, the center. All is well. Everything is as always.
Until it isn’t.

A subtle breeze sweeps through the room without any window open, and suddenly… the flower is not jasmine. The frost changes , without warning, without permission.
A lotus blooms.

Kael frowns. He doesn’t understand it. He didn’t want it like that. He doesn’t know that shape. Not consciously.
He continues to stare at the small ice lotus floating above his palm.
—“Why…?”

The flower glows softly. It appears to smile .
Kael sits down slowly. He doesn’t destroy it, doesn’t alter it. He simply leaves it there, spinning on its own axis as if waiting for him to feel before trying to understand.

And for the first time in a long time, he has no answers. Only a question burning on his lips:
“What is changing inside me…?”

In the background, the frost on his wall begins to melt on its own.

Chapter Text

Beatriz and Lucien in the Escape Room

The days had passed quietly after the fashion show … Beatriz stopped in front of a neon-lit door labeled: " The Ultimate Escape: The Final Challenge ." She crossed her arms, glancing sideways at Lucien.
—“This is what you call ‘something different to help us unwind’?”
Lucien gave her an amused smile, leaning slightly toward her.
—“What? I thought you’d enjoy using that brilliant mind of yours for something a bit more entertaining than shooting guns.”
She raised an eyebrow.
—“You say that like I wouldn’t beat you here too.”
—“Oh, Beatriz, this isn’t a competition…” he replied with fake innocence, before adding with a mischievous smile, “Unless you want it to be.”

Beatriz scoffed, but couldn’t help smiling at the implied challenge .
—“Just open the door, Lucien.”

Upon entering the room, they were greeted by a setting straight out of a mystery film : old furniture, crooked paintings, and a grandfather clock ticking down from 60 minutes. A robotic voice welcomed them:
—“Welcome to the challenge! Find the clues and escape before time runs out. Good luck.”
—“This is going to be fun,” Lucien murmured, rubbing his hands together.

Beatriz was already inspecting the room. She touched the paintings and flipped through an old book on a table.
—“Did you know these places usually follow patterns? There’s always a key hidden in a painting or under some everyday object.”
—“So you’re telling me you’re solving this with clichés?” Lucien stepped closer, picking up one of the books.
—“Don’t underestimate them, Lucien. Clichés exist because they work .”

Lucien feigned a serious expression, but the spark of competitiveness was clear in his eyes.
—“Alright, Beatriz. Let’s see how good you really are.”

They both started searching for clues . Beatriz, true to her methodical nature, unraveled the puzzles quickly, combining logic with a bit of intuition . She found a code inside the clock and used it to open a hidden drawer. Lucien, on the other hand, did things his way: more instinctive and a bit chaotic—but just as effective.

At one point, Beatriz found a key under a rug.
—“See? I knew there’d be something here.”
Lucien smiled and stepped closer, taking the key from her hand.
—“Well done. But I think I’ll be the one to use it.”
—“What? I found it!” Beatriz protested, following him as he approached a locked door.

Lucien turned the key with unnecessary dramatics, opening the door to reveal a second room , even more complicated.
—“You lead this time, Beatriz.” His mocking tone only made her roll her eyes.
—“I don’t need your permission,” she replied, already stepping forward.

Their dynamic continued like that throughout the whole session. Lucien kept teasing her with clever remarks, while Beatriz, though pretending to be annoyed, secretly enjoyed the challenge. When they finally reached the final clue , both tried to solve it at the same time, their hands colliding as they reached for a hidden object.
—“It’s mine,” said Lucien, confidently.
—“In your dreams,” Beatriz retorted, lightly pushing him aside to grab the final piece.

The grandfather clock stopped ticking, and a bright light filled the room. The robotic voice declared their victory:
—“Congratulations! You have escaped with 5 minutes to spare.”

Beatriz smiled, crossing her arms as she looked at Lucien.
—“Told you we could do it.”
—“Oh, no doubt about that. But I admit it was fun seeing you so into it, Beatriz. Maybe I should invite you to do things like this more often.”
Beatriz shook her head, but couldn’t help smiling.
—“Only if you’re ready to lose again, Lucien.”
Lucien laughed as they walked out together.
—“I’m starting to like that confidence of yours, Beatriz.”

An Escape… and an Unexpected Secret

The fresh afternoon air greeted Beatriz and her group as they left the Academy building. The combat training conference had been interesting, but after hours of dense information, they needed a break.
—“God, my brain is fried,” one of her teammates commented, stretching his arms. “Anyone else feel the urge to do something fun?”
—“Fun like what?” Beatriz asked, stretching her shoulders after sitting for so long.
—“We could hit an escape room,” suggested Samanta . “A new one just opened in the entertainment district.”

Beatriz was about to reply when a voice, perfectly timed and completely out of place, interrupted them:
—“Well, what a coincidence.”

Everyone turned—and there he was. Lucien . Leaning against a streetlamp, wearing his usual air of calculated calm and that smile that always seemed to hide secrets.
Beatriz didn’t blink.
—“Oh, Sirius!” she said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “What are you doing here?”
Lucien tilted his head slightly, that familiar gesture of his always teetering on the edge of mockery.
—“Business, as always,” he replied smoothly. “But it looks like you all have other plans.”
—“We’re going to an escape room. Want to join?” one of the teammates offered, unaware of the subtext in the air.

Lucien raised an eyebrow, amused, and looked straight at Beatriz, as if silently asking: Sirius? Seriously?
She held his gaze with equal calm and muttered under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear:
—“You showed up first, so deal with the name you got. If you came to me, it means you’re not looking for trouble… right?”
Lucien smiled wider, adding theatrical flair.
—“‘Sirius,’ then. I like it. Has flair.”

Beatriz let out a soft chuckle, like someone who’s just won a small battle without drawing a sword.
—“For peace,” she said simply.

And with that, the group headed to the escape room. The activity was a chaotic delight of riddles and racing against the clock. Lucien, true to his dragon and Aries nature, took charge with a barely-hidden air of superiority. But Beatriz, guided by her sharp intuition and fast logic, ended up being the one who got them out just in time.
Lucien didn’t say it aloud, but his wounded pride was noticeable. Beatriz just smiled at him.
—“Dear Sirius, maybe the next escape will be more… challenging.”

When they finally walked out as victors , Lucien gave her a sidelong smile.
—“I admit, I didn’t expect you to be so quick with puzzles.”
—“You underestimate me too often,” Beatriz replied, her expression neutral.
—“Oh no, not at all. I’m just collecting more pieces of the puzzle.”

She frowned, but before she could reply, one of their friends suggested:
—“We should go sing! Karaoke would be the perfect ending for today.”
Lucien smiled as if he’d been waiting for this moment.
—“That I can arrange. I own a few private karaoke spots.”

Beatriz eyed him with suspicion.
—“Seriously?”
—“You doubt my entrepreneurial prowess?” he joked, pretending to be offended.

The group agreed immediately, and soon they arrived at a luxurious private karaoke . Beatriz wasn’t expecting much, but at least she figured she could “ unwind a little .”

The night rolled on with songs and laughter. Beatriz, of course, avoided singing, but enjoyed watching her friends take the mic. Lucien, on the other hand, remained discreet…
Until he decided it was his turn .

He stood up with the confidence of someone about to deliver an unforgettable performance .
—“Alright, prepare yourselves for something special.”
The music began. The melody was intense , dramatic …
And then Lucien opened his mouth—

Beatriz felt a shiver.
It was awful .
It wasn’t just that his voice cracked—oh no, it was worse. His pitch was so off that it felt like he was reinterpreting the song in a key unknown to mankind . The worst part? His attitude. He was completely immersed in the song, with a passionate expression, as if he were performing at a world tour concert.

Beatriz felt her lips quiver.
No. She couldn’t laugh.
She grabbed her glass and took a long sip, desperate not to lose composure . Her eyes searched the group for support, but everyone pretended nothing was wrong. No one dared speak the truth. Of course, Lucien was handsome, charismatic, and had paid for the private karaoke. Who in their right mind would tell him he sang like he was summoning a storm ?

When the song ended, Lucien gave an elegant bow.
—“What did you think?”
There was an awkward pause. Then, someone gave a hesitant clap.
—“Incredible…” one of Beatriz’s friends mumbled, clearly lying.
Beatriz nodded with a poker-faced smile .
—“Yes… very impressive.”

But she felt like she was going to explode.
With a swift movement, she stood up.
—“Bathroom.”

She entered the restroom and locked the door. And then, she collapsed.
The laughter burst out instantly .
She tried to hold it back, but it was impossible. She covered her mouth, but the laugh came out like a pig-snort , which only made her laugh harder until her stomach hurt.

Lucien. Singing. Badly.
It was a secret she never expected to uncover.

When she finally regained her composure, she looked at herself in the mirror, took a deep breath, and prepared to walk out with her usual neutral expression.

But as she opened the door… Lucien was there , leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed.
—“Feeling better?” he asked, that sly smile dancing on his lips.
Beatriz froze for a second but forced herself to remain composed.
—“What are you talking about?”
He tilted his head.
—“I don’t know… I thought I heard something curious in there.”
Beatriz narrowed her eyes, but didn’t take the bait.
—“You must be imagining things.”
Lucien smiled.
—“Maybe.”

And with that, he turned and walked back to the others, leaving Beatriz with a slight sense of danger .
No. She couldn’t let him find out she’d laughed at him.
Because if there was one thing she knew about Lucien … it was that he never let a move go unanswered.

While everyone kept enjoying the karaoke , Lucien turned his attention to Samanta ’s movements. Her smile looked innocent, but he had already noticed she had taken more pictures of Beatriz than of the event itself . It wasn’t just admiration—there was something more. And Lucien didn’t trust coincidences.

Subtly, he let his particle-based body scan the surroundings, pinpointing Samanta’s phone. With pinpoint accuracy, he manipulated the energy in the air, barely altering the trajectory of one of the drinks on the table—a gesture so subtle , no one would notice.
—“Ah!” Samanta cried out as a glass tilted right next to her, forcing her to move quickly to avoid being soaked. In doing so, she knocked her own phone off the table. It hit the floor with a dry thud.
—“Oops…” Lucien murmured, hiding his satisfaction behind a surprised expression. He immediately bent down to pick it up, but when he turned it over, the screen was shattered .
—“No way…” Samanta took the phone, trying to turn it on—no luck.
—“So clumsy of me. I should’ve caught the glass first,” Lucien said kindly. “But don’t worry—I’ll get you a new one.”
Samanta blinked, surprised by his gallantry.
—“That’s not necessary…”
—“I insist. I wouldn’t feel right otherwise,” he said with a charming smile . “Let me take a quick look to make sure you don’t lose your data.”