Nero's feet moved before his brain signed off on the decision.

One second he was standing at the garden's edge, strategic planning still half-loaded in his head about trials and combat specialists and defensive formations.

The next, he was walking forward with his hand outstretched toward Celis like some invisible thread had yanked him into motion.

She looked so... small.

Not physically. The woman radiated quiet strength that made Aurelia's divine presence look loud by comparison.

But that melancholy draping across her shoulders like a weighted cloak? The way her fingers traced those flower petals with care that suggested she understood fragility on a deeply personal level?

It made something in his chest twist uncomfortably.

Aria had warned him about mysteries buried in Celis's past. Dangerous secrets that apparently required careful handling and delicate timing.

Sure. Fine. Everyone had baggage.

But this woman had been nothing but supportive since the moment she'd joined his chaotic household.

Patient with his dumb questions.

Helpful with strategy discussions.

Kind to the other summons in ways that made the villa feel more like a home than a military base.

She never asks for anything.

Never demanding attention.

Just... existing with that gentle presence that made people feel safe without quite understanding why.

And now she sat alone in a garden, questioning with mysterious words… like something had personally disappointed her.

"Let's go on a date."

The words escaped before he could think of anything else.

No smooth buildup.

No careful planning.

Just pure unfiltered Nero Walker diplomacy delivered with all the grace of a brick through a window.

But he did remember her words back then, about being his woman.

And so… of that offer still stands, well…

"..."

Celis's eyes "looked" towards him with her lips slightly parted.

Her entire posture froze mid-motion, fingers still touching flower petals while her expression cycled through genuine surprise, confusion, and something else that flickered too quickly to name.

"I..."

Her melodic voice emerged softer than usual, carrying uncertainty that made her sound almost vulnerable.

"Pardon?"

Nero kept his hand extended, committing fully to the impulsive decision with the kind of confidence that had gotten him into trouble more times than he could count.

But also gotten him out of it just as often.

"A date," he repeated, grinning despite the weird tension in his chest. "You and me. Tomorrow afternoon. Legendor's market district. Food, shopping, whatever you want. My treat, of course."

He tilted his head slightly.

"You've been helping everyone else nonstop since you arrived. Figured you deserved some time where someone takes care of YOU for a change, don't you think?"

"..."

The garden fell absolutely silent.

Even the magical wind that had been whispering through Luna's impossible vegetation seemed to pause, waiting for the response like it had front-row seats to something significant.

Celis's expression shifted for a bit.

Her melancholy dissolves like sugar under warm water.

Surprise melting into something that looked almost... hopeful?

Her lips curved into the softest smile Nero had ever witnessed, carrying warmth that made the starlight look dim by comparison.

"I would be delighted."

Her archaic speech pattern somehow made the acceptance sound more genuine… More meaningful.

She reached up, placing her hand in his with gentle trust that felt heavier than it should.

"Truly, Savior. Thy kindness moveth me more than words might convey."

Nero pulled her to her feet with casual ease, pretending his heart wasn't doing weird gymnastics at the way she said his name.

"Just Nero… even for today, please? We're going on a date, not a monastery operation."

Her quiet laugh carried notes he hadn't heard before.

Lighter.

Almost carefree.

Like some invisible weight had lifted just enough to let her breathe properly for the first time in... however long she'd been carrying it.

***

The next day.

Legendor's market district buzzed with afternoon chaos that felt almost aggressively normal.

Merchants hawking enchanted jewelry next to stalls selling questionable meat skewers.

Street performers juggling actual fire while crowds applauded with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

The smell of spices mixing with forge smoke and fresh bread in combinations that somehow worked.

Nero guided Celis through the controlled chaos with one hand occasionally touching her elbow, offering direction without being overbearing about it.

She moved with surprising confidence for someone navigating a crowded marketplace blind, head tilted slightly as she processed sounds and scents with that peculiar awareness that came from other senses overcompensating.

"Three steps right," he murmured, steering them around a merchant's cart that had wandered into their path. "Fruit vendor at two o'clock selling something that smells like it might actually be illegal."

"The fermented dragonfruit," Celis confirmed with amusement coloring her melodic voice. "Its aroma carriath notes of criminal mischief, verily."

They stopped at a silk merchant's stall where fabric caught afternoon light in ways that made colors look liquid.

Celis's fingers traced patterns with reverent care, processing texture through touch alone while her expression showed genuine appreciation for craftsmanship most people would overlook.

A particular scarf caught her attention. Deep blue with silver threading that created star patterns across the silk.

She held it for maybe three seconds before carefully setting it back down, that practiced restraint suggesting someone who'd gotten used to wanting things from a distance.

"Didn't I tell you that I would shoulder all the treats today?"

Nero's declaration came with playful grandeur, snatching the scarf before Celis could protest and waving at the merchant.

"This one. Also that green one in the back. And... yeah, the purple one too. Why not?"

"Savior, thou needn't–"

"Just Nero," he corrected, already counting coins with zero regret. "And yes, I absolutely need to. That's literally how dates work. Guy buys stuff. Girl enjoys being spoiled. Basic social contract."

… Is that really how it works?

Celis couldn't help but think of it before her laugh emerged unexpectedly and genuine.

Heck, it carried enough warmth that made the merchant smile despite not understanding the joke.

"Thy interpretation of courtship customs remaineth charmingly unconventional."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

They continued through the market, Nero maintaining a running commentary about their surroundings while Celis explored textures and scents with growing enthusiasm.

Street food appeared.

Weird pastries filled with spiced meat that probably came from creatures mythology hadn't catalogued yet.

Sweet drinks that sparkled with actual magic.

The melancholy that usually clung to her presence lifted gradually, like morning fog burning away under persistent sunshine.

For a few precious hours, the apocalypse felt distant.

Ancient mysteries became someone else's problem.

The countdown timer in Nero's peripheral vision might as well not exist.

Just two people wandering through market chaos, sharing food and conversation like the world wasn't actively trying to murder everyone on a regular basis.

Celis's happiness felt fragile though.

Delicate, like spun glass catching sunlight at just the right angle.

Beautiful but temporary, carrying the implicit understanding that this peace wouldn't last because nothing good ever really did in their current reality.

Nero found himself wanting to protect that smile with unexpected intensity.

To stretch these hours into something more permanent than stolen moments between catastrophes.

The thought should have felt concerning. Maybe even alarming given everything else demanding his attention.

Instead, it just felt... right.

***

The restaurant Nero chose radiated cozy warmth that contrasted beautifully with Legendor's usual stone-and-steel aesthetic.

Amber lighting cast gentle shadows across wooden tables where couples and families enjoyed evening meals.

The comfortable murmur of conversation mixed with clinking silverware and occasional laughter.

Normal. Peaceful. Almost aggressively mundane in ways that made it feel precious.

They'd just ordered. It was going smoothly so far.

'She's not bad, you know?'

For a moment, he explicably said so to a certain someone, before he got a reply,

[... Mhm, maybe Aria is indeed overthinking?]

Maybe indeed so.

And although the system also labeled a warning, with all that she has done so far…

He's feeling guilty if he suspects her of something that she hasn't even done.

Of course, he would remain cautious.

The time in the Camp was hard earned lessons for him.

But for now,

'I'll repay her kindness with love.'

Every good girl deserves to be loved, no?

And just as Nero thought of that…

*CRASH!*

The front door suddenly exploded inward.

Wood splintered.

Glass shattered.

The peaceful atmosphere disintegrated like someone had taken a sledgehammer to reality's volume knob.

Five men in dark clothes and crude masks stormed through the wreckage with weapons drawn, their theatrical menace suggesting they'd practiced this entrance specifically for maximum intimidation factor.

"Everyone DOWN!"

The lead bandit's voice carried rehearsed authority that probably sounded more impressive in his bathroom mirror.

"Hands where we can see them! This is a ROBBERY!"

Chaos erupted instantly.

Chairs scraped.

People screamed.

Most patrons hit the floor with varying degrees of grace, hands raised in surrender while fear painted their features with predictable uniformity.

Standard robbery procedure, really.

… Except two tables remained notably, almost insultingly still.

"..."

Nero continued cutting his steak with measured precision, blade moving through meat like the armed men represented slightly annoying background music rather than actual threats.

Across from him, Celis sipped her tea with that serene smile that somehow made the robbery feel like a minor social inconvenience.

Not defiance, exactly.

Just complete disinterest in participating in someone else's drama.

Across the restaurant, past the panicking civilians and overturned furniture, another table maintained equally suspicious calm.

A "teenage" girl in dust-covered overalls sat with legs crossed atop her floating chair.

Gravity itself bent to her whim with casual disregard for physics, making her elevated position look natural rather than impossible.

She examined her fingernails with obvious boredom, like armed robberies ranked somewhere below watching paint dry on her entertainment scale.

Her companion cut a drastically different figure. Immaculate black suit. Perfect posture.

Pince-nez that caught ambient light with aristocratic precision.

He carefully dabbed his mouth with a napkin before setting it down with movements so precise they looked choreographed, then adjusted his glasses with the kind of disapproval usually reserved for servants who'd forgotten proper fork placement.

"Oi!"

The lead bandit's voice cracked slightly as he pointed his weapon between the two tables that refused to comply with basic robbery etiquette.

"You four! Are you all deaf or what?! I said GET DOWN!"

"..."

But, neither group acknowledged the demand.

Nero took another bite of steak.

Celis smiled serenely into her teacup.

The floating girl yawned.

The suited man checked his pocket watch.

The casual dismissal carried more insult than any verbal response could possibly convey.

***

The standoff stretched for exactly three heartbeats.

Then the lead bandit's patience snapped like overstressed wire, and he started forward with weapon raised and fury building in features visible beneath his cheap mask.

"You think this is a JOKE?!"

At the floating chair, the teenage girl's bored expression transformed instantly.

Gravity around her warped visibly, making the air feel heavier as her voice dropped to a growl that carried genuine menace.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Each word pressed down like atmospheric pressure before a storm.

"... Interrupting my lunch?"

The suited man sighed with weary disappointment that somehow became threatening through sheer politeness.

He set down his utensils with precise movements, adjusted his pince-nez one final time, then addressed the approaching bandit in a tone so courteous it wrapped around and became absolutely terrifying.

"Disrupting a person's meal demonstrates appalling manners."

His smile carried zero warmth.

"Shall I educate you on proper social conduct?"

The air itself felt charged.

Potential violence crackling between two completely different sources like electricity looking for somewhere to discharge.

The robbers had approximately five seconds to realize they'd made a catastrophic tactical error.

And judging by the confusion spreading across their visible features, those five seconds were already halfway gone.

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