Last night's scream had reached three houses in the lower district of Falcrest. Leon Crawford knew this. A complaint reading "Don't make noise until morning" had slipped under his door from the adjacent room at the Traveling Raven's Nest, and the innkeeper had greeted him in the hallway with "My hero, you had quite the time last night, didn't you?" with a smile. It seemed the residents in the area had shared the information that "the hero had gone mad in front of his debt documents." Regardless, he couldn't be late this morning. Celes's instruction note read: "In front of the Golden Needle Pavilion, 10 AM sharp, absolutely no tardiness." The two characters for "absolutely" were written with noticeably heavier pressure than the rest, the writer's personality bleeding through the page. Leon headed north along the main street in his adventurer's gear—long sword at his hip, weathered leather jacket, and practical pants. The middle district was a step above the lower district, with wider stone-paved streets and neater buildings on both sides. Tailors, jewelers, and refined tea merchants lined the way. This was Leon's first time walking such streets since the parade after slaying the dragon king, and his leather boots echoed oddly out of place. The Golden Needle Pavilion—a tailor shop in the heart of the middle district, marked by a sign shaped like a golden embroidered needle—already had Celes standing in front of it. Her long silver hair gleamed white in the morning sunlight. In a deep indigo dress with a pale gray shawl draped casually over her shoulders, she blended perfectly into the middle district's scenery. Her violet eyes turned toward Leon. Slowly, from top to bottom, taking a full second. "...You came in adventurer's gear," Celes Vera said. "Yes," Leon Crawford replied. "I wrote in the instructions to buy formal wear," Celes Vera said. "It didn't say to buy it before coming," Leon Crawford said. Celes narrowed her eyes for just a moment. She apparently had no intention of arguing back, simply saying "Come in" as she pushed open the door. The scent of sandalwood wafted softly past Leon's nose. Inside the shop, three formal outfits were already displayed on mannequins. A navy double-stitched jacket. A deep green suit with a vest. And a set of aristocratic-style white shirt and slacks. Leon froze before the three outfits. "Wait, these are all for me?" Leon Crawford asked. "Choose. From the three," Celes Vera said. "Not all of them...thank goodness," Leon Crawford said. "Try all of them on, then choose the best one," Celes Vera said. "...So all of them after all," Leon Crawford said. The shop owner—a small woman with white hair wearing thick glasses, with the air of a skilled craftsperson—approached with a measuring tape in hand. "Let's take your measurements," she said, and without waiting for Leon's response, had him spread his arms wide. Her efficiency was remarkable; before he knew it, he'd tried on all three outfits. In the end, the chosen combination was a white shirt, black slacks, and silver cufflinks. Celes had chosen. Leon's opinion wasn't particularly sought. He changed and stood before the mirror. (Who is this?) Honestly, he was surprised himself. His unruly black hair, when combed more neatly than usual, created a different impression. The white shirt brought out his skin tone, and his thin eyebrows and gentle features looked oddly refined. Rather than a hero—he looked like a nobleman's son. Celes stood beside him, looking in the mirror. From a few centimeters below Leon's height, she stared intently. For several seconds, there was silence. "...Not bad," Celes Vera said. It was quiet. Really quiet—so quiet that Leon heard it but the shop owner might not have. Their eyes met in the mirror. Celes quickly looked away and told the shop owner, "We'll take this." For just that one moment, somehow, the temperature in the shop seemed to rise. Then the shop owner announced the total. "One formal outfit set comes to forty-two gold coins," the shop owner said. All expression drained from Leon's face. He became a Noh mask. Perfect emptiness. He didn't even blink. He took out his wallet. A worn leather wallet. He turned it upside down. It made a jingling sound. Seven copper coins rolled into his palm. Leon looked at the seven copper coins. The seven copper coins looked at Leon. Jingle. Jingle. "..." Leon Crawford said. Celes took out her wallet. "I'll cover it," she said coolly, counting out exactly forty-two gold coins and laying them on the counter. "I'll send you a bill later, hero." Leon slowly knelt right there. Not from shock or despair, but from a physical defeat to gravity—a slow, deliberate kneeling. The shop owner, worried, called out "Customer?" Celes answered. "He's always like this, so don't worry," Celes Vera said. Leon raised his head. "...You understand me too well. It's scary," Leon Crawford said. ────── Five minutes' walk from the Golden Needle Pavilion, they arrived at a terrace café called the Amber Foam Pavilion, facing the main street. Honey-colored awnings softly filtered the sunlight—apparently a well-regarded establishment in the middle district. Despite it being a weekday morning, about half the terrace seats were occupied. Celes sat across the table and opened her notebook. "We're beginning training," she said. "Fake couple training, phase one," Celes Vera said. In a low, composed voice, as if announcing the start of a business negotiation. "Linking arms. Something every couple does, a natural action. If you can't do this without awkwardness, the mission in Vassen County will end in the first five minutes," Celes Vera said. With that, Celes extended her arm. A slender arm stretched smoothly from the table's edge toward Leon. A white wrist. White skin peeking from the sleeve cuff. A faint sweet fragrance drifted. Leon's hands trembled finely. He noticed it himself and was speechless. Trembling. My hands are trembling. Hands that hadn't trembled even before the Grand Scale, even when the footing crumbled on the Ash Ridge. Celes's gaze fell on Leon's hands. Then slowly returned with a sidelong glance. "The arms that fought dragons are trembling," Celes Vera said. "Dragons are...dragons are just scary. Simple. This is a different kind of—" Leon Crawford said. He stopped mid-sentence. Celes tilted her head slightly. Her violet eyes looked directly at Leon. "A different kind of what?" Celes Vera asked. The question came back slowly. The tone of her voice was, just slightly, softer. "Ugh, forget it!!" Leon Crawford shouted. He shouted and, with the momentum, linked arms. Celes's arm wrapped around Leon's. Body heat transmitted through the formal wear's sleeve. It was warm. A warmth that didn't fade despite the single layer of fabric between them. Between the white shirt and Celes's shawl, there was definite heat. Leon inadvertently murmured. "...It's warm," Leon Crawford said. The moment he said it, he thought: oh no. Celes tilted her head silently and sent him a look. Meaningful, but saying nothing. Those indescribable violet eyes were directed at him. Leon turned his face away at triple speed. He stared intently at the stone pavement beyond the terrace. "Phase two," Celes Vera said. Celes wrote something in her notebook as she spoke. "Gazing into each other's eyes. The condition is three seconds. At Count Vassen's ceremony, you'll need to withstand the observation of those around us as a couple. If you look away, you'll be suspected," Celes Vera said. Leon gritted his teeth and faced her. Celes's violet eyes looked directly at him from the front. Clear, deep, a complex color. Like gold and violet mixed together, like the sky before dawn. One second. Two seconds. At two seconds seventeen, his eyes slid away toward the window. "Two seconds seventeen," Celes Vera said. She stated it as if recording it. Without emotion, precisely. "Yet you endured the dragon's gaze?" Celes Vera asked. "The dragon's eyes only had killing intent! It was simple, so it was easy to handle! Yours has something else in them—" Leon Crawford shouted. He realized, after shouting, that he'd done it again. Celes went very still. Holding her teacup at the table's edge, she paused for a moment. "What did you see in my eyes?" Celes Vera asked. It was a quiet question. Not a provocation, but genuinely asking. Leon couldn't answer. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Silence flowed. In the distance of the terrace, someone was laughing. The wind swayed the awning. The honey-colored light flickered, illuminating Celes's silver hair. At that moment, a voice reached them from the neighboring table. "...Isn't that Hero Leon?" a female citizen asked. A chill ran down Leon's back. For a completely different reason. "It really is!! It's Hero Leon!!" a male citizen shouted. The citizen stood up and yelled. Half the terrace turned to look. "He's on a date!! The hero is on a date!!" the male citizen shouted. "Is she your fiancée?! You have a fiancée?!" a female citizen asked. He could almost hear the sound effect of a crowd gathering. More people appeared. Before he knew it, the terrace was full. "Please look this way!" "An autograph!" "Congratulations on your engagement!" voices overlapped. The table shook. "Let's escape," Leon started to say, but when he looked, Celes had already stood up. She'd simply walked away, leaving her tea half-drunk in the cup. The two of them bolted out through the café's back exit. Running, they glanced back once, and the Amber Foam Pavilion's terrace was completely full. New customers kept sitting down. The shop owner was beaming, giving them a thumbs up in their direction. "...That shop owner is completely delighted," Leon Crawford said. ────── It was a side street two blocks from the main avenue. One and a half meters wide. A narrow stone-paved path. Old stone walls pressed in on both sides, the sky a thin blue line above. The two of them pressed their backs against the wall, holding their breath. The sound of the pursuing crowd reached them from the street entrance. "Is it this way?" "Hero!" "The fiancée!" The voices drew gradually closer. Leon pressed his back against the stone wall. Celes stood beside him. Their shoulders were close enough to touch. Celes's silver hair came up to Leon's jaw height. In the enclosed space, the sandalwood fragrance intensified. Sweet, slightly heavy, a scent that lingered. Each time the pursuers' voices drew near, they were naturally pressed further against the wall. The cold stone pressed against Leon's back. Celes was pushed by it too, and the distance between them shrank. At that moment, Celes's fingertips gently grasped the cuff of Leon's formal shirt. To fix their position. Just for that. Leon felt the delicacy and smallness of that grip from close range. So slender. Had her hand always been this slender? He hadn't noticed when they first shook hands in the Night Raven Alley. Now, not through a sleeve but through the thin fabric of formal wear, he could feel the very shape of her fingers. He couldn't say anything. "...They seem to have gone," Celes Vera said quietly. The crowd's voices faded into the distance. Footsteps disappeared in another direction. The two of them didn't move for a while. Even after the crowd was gone, somehow, they didn't leave that spot. Neither Leon nor Celes. There was no reason to move, but neither felt like moving either. Celes released her grip on his cuff. Then she turned toward the deeper part of the alley. She looked at the dim stone wall with eyes that seemed to gaze at something far away. Leon watched her profile. There was no seductiveness, no calculation there. The violet eyes directed into the distance held an expression like something had been gently set down—he couldn't quite express it, but something close to loneliness. The cool, all-knowing air that Celes usu