Elara pursed her lips, glaring at Luca as he casually leaned against the railing, his smirk unrelenting. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks again, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her flustered.
“You really are impossible,” she muttered, her voice carrying a mix of annoyance and resignation.
“Impossible?” Luca repeated, his tone light and teasing. “I think the word you’re looking for is charming. It’s a common mistake.”
Elara crossed her arms tightly, narrowing her eyes. “Charming? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Not at all,” he replied smoothly, gesturing toward himself. “I mean, look at me. Saving lives, cracking jokes, looking this good while doing it—it’s a package deal.”
She rolled her eyes so hard she almost worried they’d get stuck. “You’re about as charming as a frostbite spell in the middle of summer.”
“Hmm,” Luca mused, tapping his chin as though considering her words. “So what you’re saying is, I leave a lasting impression? I’ll take it.”
Elara groaned audibly, shaking her head. “How do you even do this? How do you make everything sound like a compliment to yourself?”
“It’s a skill,” he said with a shrug, his smirk widening. “You know, like magic. Except my talent doesn’t require mana—just natural brilliance.”
Elara stared at him, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to formulate a response. Finally, she jabbed her staff lightly against the deck in frustration.
“You are really annoying.”
“And yet,” Luca replied, leaning slightly closer with a conspiratorial grin, “here you are. Talking to me. By choice, I might add.”
“I came to thank you,” she shot back, her voice firm. “Not to… to be verbally assaulted by your inflated ego.”
“Assaulted?” Luca feigned a look of shock, pressing a hand to his chest. “You wound me, mage. I’m merely having a friendly conversation. Should I be offended that you don’t seem to be enjoying it?”
“Oh, I’m enjoying it,” Elara said, her tone sharp. “I’m enjoying imagining myself freezing your boots to the deck.”
“Careful,” Luca said, his smirk morphing into a playful grin. “If you start casting spells on me, I might take it as flirting.”
Elara’s cheeks turned crimson, and she sputtered, “Flirting?! Are you delusional?!”
“Delusional?” Luca echoed with mock indignation. “Now you’re just being cruel. You really need to work on your gratitude, mage.”
“I already thanked you!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “And now I’m regretting every second of it.”
“You’ll get over it,” Luca replied casually, turning his attention back to the waves as though their exchange hadn’t just unfolded. “Besides, I’ve already forgiven you.”
“Forgiven me?” Elara’s voice pitched higher, her indignation spilling over. “For what?!”
“For making me deal with your almost-eaten self back there,” he said, his tone light but unmistakably smug. “It was a close call, you know. Very stressful for me.”
Elara clenched her fists, her patience fraying. She opened her mouth to fire back another retort but stopped herself, realizing she’d only be playing into his hands. She took a slow breath, straightening her posture.
“You know what?” she said, forcing her voice into something resembling calm. “I’m done. I’ve said my piece, and you can stand here with your natural brilliance and… whatever else it is you do. I have better things to do.”
Luca’s smirk grew as he glanced at her. “Running away already? I was just starting to enjoy myself.”
“I’m not running away,” she snapped, spinning on her heel. “I’m preserving my sanity.”
As Elara stormed away, Luca’s laughter erupted behind her, a deep, hearty sound that echoed across the deck. It was genuine, loud, and completely unexpected, catching the attention of a few nearby adventurers who exchanged curious glances before quickly looking away.
Elara froze mid-step, her hands tightening into fists as she turned halfway, glaring at him. “What’s so funny?!”
Luca leaned slightly against the railing, wiping an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye. “Out of all the reactions I’ve gotten,” he began between chuckles, “this one’s definitely one of the best.”
Her brow furrowed further, her annoyance flaring. “What about it is funny?”
He tilted his head, his smirk softening into something almost mischievous. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice still carrying traces of his laughter. “It just… sounded funny.”
Elara stared at him, her expression teetering between incredulous and indignant. “Sounded funny? That’s it? That’s all it takes for you?”
Luca shrugged, the grin never leaving his face. “Isn’t it enough?”
“No!” she snapped, throwing her hands up. “I don’t get what’s funny about it!”
“Me neither,” Luca said, his grin widening even further.
“Then why are you laughing?” Elara asked, her voice pitching higher as her frustration reached its peak.
“Is there supposed to be a reason? If you really want to find a reason to laugh every time, it makes sense why you have such a clumped face.”
Elara’s expression darkened, a visible vein popping on her forehead as Luca’s words sank in. “‘Clumped face’?” she repeated, her voice low and dangerous.
Your journey continues with empire
“Yeah,” Luca said with a casual shrug, as though he hadn’t just insulted her. “You know, all tense and scrunched up. Like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your forehead. Very clumped.”
Her grip on her staff tightened, and before she could stop herself, she marched back toward him, standing directly in front of him with a glare that could freeze an entire battlefield. “My face is not clumped!” she snapped, her tone sharp and indignant.
Luca tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned down, lowering his gaze to meet hers directly. Their eyes locked for a moment, and Elara could feel her irritation simmering beneath the surface. But then, his gaze shifted subtly, his dark eyes trailing over her skin with a scrutinizing yet oddly casual air.
“Hmm,” Luca murmured, his smirk fading into something resembling thoughtfulness. “Some small… burps. Maybe a few cracks. Nothing too much.”
“B-Burps?! Cracks?!” Elara sputtered, her cheeks flushing with a mix of indignation and embarrassment. “What are you even talking about?!”
But before she could say more, she felt it—a faint warmth brushing against her face, soft and fleeting, like a whisper of air. Luca’s breath tickled her skin as he spoke, his closeness suddenly undeniable.
That’s when she realized just how close they were. Their faces were mere inches apart, his dark eyes unwavering as they held her gaze. Her heart skipped a beat, and her blush deepened as the realization hit her like a freight train.
‘Just now… that…’
Her mind reeled, and in an instant, she stumbled back, putting a solid distance between them. She clutched her staff tightly, her pulse racing as she tried to compose herself. Her thoughts spiraled, and a faint tremor ran through her hands as she clenched them around her staff.
‘After all this time… I promised myself…’ she thought, her chest tightening. She had always kept her distance from men, a deliberate choice born from a vow she had made long ago. She had sworn never to let herself get close—not physically, not emotionally. And yet…
Her gaze flicked to Luca, who now stood with his usual air of nonchalance, completely unfazed by her retreat. His smirk had returned, and he looked at her with that infuriating mix of amusement and curiosity.
“But…” she thought, her grip loosening slightly. Something about him felt different—irritating, sure, but also disarming in a way she couldn’t quite explain.
Luca raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening as he broke the silence. “What? Did I say something wrong?”
“….Huh?”
Elara blinked, jolted back into the moment by Luca’s question. “What?” she managed, her voice a little more high-pitched than she intended.
Luca tilted his head, his smirk curling further as he leaned slightly against the railing. “I said, did I say something wrong? About the burps and cracks. You seemed… flustered.”
Elara’s eyes widened slightly as his words registered. Without thinking, she brought her fingers to her cheek, pressing lightly against her skin. And sure enough, she felt it—the faint, uneven texture he had so casually pointed out. Tiny imperfections, barely noticeable, but there nonetheless.
Her brows furrowed as her fingers brushed over the spots, confirming what Luca had said. Normally, she prided herself on being honest, even when it meant accepting things she didn’t like. It was her motto, after all—to acknowledge the truth, face it head-on, and grow stronger because of it.
But this?
This was different. This was Luca. And she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.
“No,” she said sharply, lowering her hand and glaring at him. “You’re wrong. There’s nothing there.”
Luca raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by her denial. “Nothing there?” he repeated, his tone teasing. “Then what were you just feeling for?”
“I wasn’t—” Elara cut herself off, her cheeks flushing as she realized how ridiculous she sounded. She straightened her posture, gripping her staff tightly. “Your eyes are probably just… faulty. That’s all.”
“My eyes are faulty?” Luca echoed, his smirk growing impossibly wider. “That’s a new one. Most people find them quite sharp.”
“Well, not in this case,” Elara shot back, her tone defensive. “You’re clearly imagining things.”
“Yep, yep….Surely…..”
“…..”
Just then, as they were speaking Elara noticed something.