Aldric moved fast. He grabbed Marcus by the lapel of his jacket.

"Watch your mouth, boy," Aldric growled. "I am a Count of this kingdom. I have influence. I have connections."

Marcus didn't flinch. He didn't try to break the grip.

He just looked down at Aldric's hand, then back up to his face.

"You have nothing," Marcus said calmly. "That's why you're here."

Aldric tightened his grip. "I could ruin you. I could spread rumors that would make your current reputation look like a sainthood."

"Go ahead," Marcus said.

Aldric paused. He expected fear. He didn't find any.

"You're a novelty," Aldric said. "Vivienne will get bored. She always does. And when she realizes you're just a interfering child, she'll come back to me. She always does."

"Not this time," Marcus said.

"Why?" Aldric challenged. "Because of you?"

"No," Marcus said. "Because she has a support system now."

Marcus reached up. He took Aldric's wrist.

He didn't use force. He didn't use a martial arts technique.

He just removed the hand from his jacket like he was removing a piece of lint.

"She has friends who see you," Marcus said. "Friends who talk to each other."

He stepped closer. His voice was low, devoid of emotion.

"If you approach her again," Marcus said. "If you try to isolate her. If you ask her for a single copper coin."

Marcus paused. He let the silence stretch.

"We will bury you."

Aldric blinked. "Is that a threat? Are you threatening a noble duel?"

"A duel?" Marcus laughed. It was a dry, humorless sound. "No. I'm not going to fight you with swords."

He leaned in.

"I will leverage the combined economic power of the Roselle Duchy to freeze your assets. I will use the social influence of the Royal Academy to blacklist you from every event in the capital."

Aldric turned pale.

"I will have the Adventurer's Guild flag you as a security risk," Marcus continued.

"And I will personally ensure that every creditor you ran from in the Free Cities gets your current address."

Aldric took a step back. He hit the wall of the alcove.

"You can't do that," Aldric whispered. "That's... that's systematic destruction."

"It's an intervention," Marcus corrected.

Aldric looked at him with genuine fear. He had expected a hot-headed young lover. He had expected a duel.

He hadn't expected a strategic dismantling of his entire life.

"You're a monster," Aldric muttered.

"I'm a life coach," Marcus said. "And your session is over."

Marcus turned his back on him.

It was the ultimate insult. He turned his back as if Aldric was no threat at all.

"Stay away from her," Marcus threw over his shoulder.

He swept the curtain aside and stepped out into the hallway.

The air in the corridor felt cooler. Cleaner.

Marcus took a deep breath. His hands were shaking slightly.

Not from fear. From the adrenaline dump.

He hated conflict. He really, truly hated it.

On Earth, he would have had to decompress for three hours after a session like that.

Here, he just had to go back to a party and pretend he hadn't just verbally assassinated a Count.

He adjusted his jacket. He smoothed the lapel where Aldric had grabbed him.

He started to walk toward the main hall.

Then he saw a shadow move near a large potted fern.

It wasn't a normal shadow. It moved with fluid grace.

Vivienne stepped out.

She wasn't looking at him with her usual confident smirk.

Her face was pale. Her eyes were wide.

She had clearly doubled back. She had used her A-rank stealth skills to listen.

Marcus froze.

Oh no, he thought. She heard everything.

He quickly replayed the conversation in his head.

Had he sounded too possessive? Too arrogant?

"Vivienne," Marcus said. "I thought you were with Damien."

"I sent him to get drinks," she said. Her voice was quiet. "I wanted to... check."

She took a step toward him.

"You threatened to destroy his life," she stated.

"I outlined consequences for negative behavior," Marcus corrected. "It's a standard coaching technique. Just... scaled up."

Vivienne looked at him. She really looked at him.

Usually, when men fought over her, it was loud. It was about their ego. It was about who got to claim the prize.

They would shout. They would draw swords. They would make it about them.

Marcus hadn't mentioned his own feelings once.

He hadn't claimed her. He hadn't called her his.

He had just built a wall between her and the thing that hurt her.

"You didn't have to do that," Vivienne said.

She looked down at her hands. "I could have handled him. Eventually."

"I know you could," Marcus said. "But you shouldn't have to handle him alone."

Vivienne looked up. Her amber eyes were shimmering.

"He's my mistake," she whispered. "My baggage."

"He's a bully," Marcus said firmly. "And bullies don't stop until someone makes them stop."

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Look, I'm sorry if I overstepped. I know you value your independence. I just... I couldn't watch him do that to you."

Vivienne moved.

She crossed the distance between them in two strides.

She didn't hug him. She didn't kiss him.

She reached out and took his hand.

Her grip was strong. Her palm was calloused from years of wielding daggers. It was a warrior's hand.

She squeezed his fingers. Hard.

It was a grounding touch. An anchor.

"Thank you," she said.

The words were heavy. They carried the weight of ten years of silence.

"No one has ever..." She stopped. She swallowed hard.

She looked at him with a vulnerability that terrified him more than the Demon Lord ever could.

"No one has ever just stood in front of me," she whispered. "Without asking for something in return."

Marcus felt a cold dread settle in his stomach.

This wasn't gratitude. This was connection.

This was deep, fundamental bonding.

He thought about his map. He thought about the code names. He thought about Operation Redirect 2.0.

He watched the plan burst into flames in his mind's eye.

He had just become her hero.

Not the flashy kind who slays the dragon, but the quiet kind who locks the door against the cold.

That was infinitely more dangerous.

"You don't owe me anything," Marcus said quickly. He tried to pull his hand back. "I wa-was..It was just... basic decency."

Vivienne didn't let go. She squeezed one last time, then released him slowly.

A small smile touched her lips. It wasn't the flirtatious smile of the Crimson Viper.

It was soft. Genuine.

"Basic decency is rare, Marcus," she said. "Rarer than mythril."

She took a step back. She smoothed her dress.

The slump was gone completely. She looked taller. Stronger.

"I'm going to find my son," she said. "And then I'm going to order the most expensive bottle of wine in this building."

She looked at him one last time.

"You should join us," she said. "We have a lot to talk about. Not limestone."

She turned and walked away.

Her stride was long and confident. The predatory grace was back.

Marcus watched her go.

He leaned against the wall and put his head in his hands.

I failed, he thought. I failed spectacularly.

He had saved her from her ex-husband. He had restored her confidence.

He had proven he was a safe, protective presence.

He had done everything a good person should do.

And in doing so, he had probably doomed himself to marry her.

Damien appeared from around the corner. He was holding two glasses of wine.

He looked at the empty hallway where his father had fled. He looked at his mother walking away with her head held high.

Then he looked at Marcus.

"So," Damien said. "How bad is it?"

"Bad," Marcus groaned. "I think I just became her knight in shining armor. Without the armor. Or the horse."

"I heard the part about the creditors," Damien said. He handed Marcus a glass. "That was vicious. I loved it."

"I'm supposed to be fading away," Marcus said. He took the wine and downed half of it in one gulp.

"You failed at fading," Damien agreed. "But you succeeded at being a decent human being."

"Being a decent human being is ruining my life," Marcus complained.

"Welcome to being a protagonist," Damien said dryly. "It sucks, doesn't it?"

Marcus glared at him. "I'm not the protagonist. Theo is."

Damien just sipped his wine. He didn't say anything.

He didn't have to.

Marcus pushed off the wall. He straightened his jacket again.

"Let's go," Marcus said. "If I don't supervise your mother, she might actually order the most expensive wine. And I have a feeling the bill is coming to me."

"Oh, definitely," Damien said. "Consider it a consulting fee."

They walked back toward the party.

As they entered the main hall, Marcus saw Vivienne across the room.

She was laughing with a group of nobles. Real laughter.

She spotted him. She raised her glass.

It wasn't a casual toast. It was a salute.

Marcus raised his glass back.

He accepted his defeat.

He had lost the battle for detachment.

But looking at Vivienne's genuine smile, he realized he didn't mind losing the war.

He would just have to figure out how to explain this to the universe later.

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