As the waltz carried them across the polished floor, Viola kept her smile perfectly noble, chin high, shoulders poised, every movement smooth enough to make half the ballroom jealous.

But her eyes weren’t on the admiring crowd. They were studying him. Very closely. On the next slow turn, she leaned a fraction closer, her voice soft enough that only he could hear it.

“Did you find anyone suspicious these past few days?”

Ludger didn’t break rhythm, but a muscle in his jaw twitched.

“Suspicious?” he said, all innocence. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

Viola gave him the same unimpressed stare she used whenever he tried to get out of paperwork.

“Ludger. Grandfather asked you something. I don’t know what it was, but I can tell when you go missing for days for ‘no reason.’ Don’t pretend nothing happened.”

He sighed, long, low, resigned. The kind of sigh that said fine, you caught me without any actual admission of guilt.

They pivoted through another sweep, and Ludger finally murmured, “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Viola narrowed her eyes slightly. “Meaning?”

“Meaning,” Ludger whispered, “just some small fries doing stupid things.”

Her posture loosened slightly, tension draining from her shoulders. Not because she doubted him, Viola trusted him more than most—but because she knew his definition of “small fries” often meant someone else’s definition of “crisis-level threats.”

“Small fries,” she repeated quietly. “You always say that. And it almost always means something was blown up.”

Ludger shrugged mid-step.

“Nothing exploded this time.”

Viola blinked in genuine surprise. “Really?”

“…intentionally.”

She almost missed a step. Almost.

But her smile didn’t fade, it widened, a little brighter, a little warmer. Because even in the middle of a ballroom filled with nobles and expectations… He still made her feel like she wasn’t alone in the chaos circling their lives.

“Fine,” she said under her breath, “but after this dance, you’re telling me everything.”

Ludger exhaled through his nose.

“Happy birthday,” Ludger said properly this time, no sarcasm, no grumbling, no shortcut. Just the words, steady and direct.

Viola’s smile bloomed instantly, bright enough to outshine half the chandeliers in the ballroom.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

But then her expression shifted. A tiny frown tugged at her brow as she searched his face.

“…You seem a bit off tonight,” she murmured. “Is it tiredness? Or something else?”

Ludger didn’t answer right away. They glided across the floor, turning past nobles who pretended not to stare at the two of them. He kept his movements steady, measured, just like he had learned in his previous life. Finally, he let out a quiet breath.

“It’s nothing bad,” he said. “Just… noticing things.”

“Noticing?” she pressed.

“Yeah. Like how you’re getting old enough not to be considered a kid anymore.” He flicked his eyes toward her, calm, unreadable, but honest. “And if you’re growing up… then I don’t get to keep acting like an idiot forever.”

Viola blinked, startled. Ludger added, “So I’m being forced to review my way of thinking a bit. And act properly. Or at least… more properly than usual.”

For a heartbeat, Viola forgot the dance steps. Her hand tightened slightly on his shoulder, not out of worry—out of something warmer. Soft amusement tugged at her lips.

“…Ludger,” she whispered, “are you telling me you’re maturing?”

“Don’t get excited,” he deadpanned. “It’s just occasional. I am adapting to the things I learn about the world. I am not doing an 180.”

She laughed, quiet but genuine, and the frown disappeared entirely.

Whatever was changing in him… she liked it.

Viola leaned in just a fraction—close enough that her perfume mixed with the faint chill of his mana, close enough that only he could hear her over the slow strings and the murmuring crowd. Her smile was still practiced and elegant for the audience, but her voice slipped through her teeth in a low, honest whisper.

“I owe you one for this,” she admitted. “Situations like this… it’s frustrating. Everyone stares, everyone expects something, and I’m supposed to smile and wait like a proper noble lady until someone decides to ask.” She exhaled through her nose, the tiniest bit of tension leaving her shoulders. “You lifted a weight from my shoulders before I even had to deal with it.”

She straightened a little, spinning with him as the music guided them into another slow turn. Her green dress shimmered under the lanterns, and for a heartbeat she looked every bit the noble heir the Empire expected, until her expression shifted into the familiar mix of annoyance and dry humor.

“Now,” she continued, almost groaning, “I just have to keep dancing until my feet start killing me because of these damn heels. Whoever invented these things hated women.”

Ludger didn’t miss a beat. His voice stayed lazily deadpan, the kind of tone that made Viola suspect he was entertained at her expense.

“You can always rearrange the bones in the faces of anyone who tries to call you for a dance,” he offered. “Or just say something disturbing. You’re good at that.”

Viola blinked at him, scandalized and amused in the same breath.

“…Did you forget that you were the one who said we’re supposed to ‘grow up a little’?” she asked. “Because that doesn’t sound like the mature option.”

He gave a light shrug, as if adulthood were a suggestion and not a rule.

“Temporary lapse,” he said. “Also, it would be funny.”

Viola tried to suppress the laugh that wanted out, biting the inside of her cheek. She shook her head slowly, her braid swaying behind her as he guided her through another smooth step. For someone who claimed not to know how to waltz, he wasn’t stepping on her feet, which, in her mind, was suspicious on its own.

“I can’t ruin my night like that,” she sighed. “Not this time, at least. I’m supposed to look composed, dignified, admirable, pick one. Just one.”

He glanced down at her heels, shiny, impractical, absolute torture devices, and let the corner of his mouth lift.

“Then endure the heels, princess,” Ludger murmured.

Viola scoffed, but her grip on his hand softened, and she didn’t pull away. For a moment, the smallest one—they danced not as heirs or weapons or political symbols, but simply two kids who had somehow grown into roles bigger than either wanted. And for tonight, that was enough.

Viola shifted her weight subtly as they turned, the hem of her green dress brushing across the polished marble floor. Her expression softened for a heartbeat before sharpening again into something curious, something a little too smug for Ludger’s comfort.

“So,” she said lightly, as if she hadn’t been waiting the entire night to ask this, “what about my birthday gift?”

Ludger didn’t stumble, but he did exhale through his nose in that tiny, irritated way that told her she’d hit the mark.

“I heard you’ve been learning to forge,” she continued, eyes glinting with that mix of mischief and competitive fire she was famous for. “Knowing you, I assumed you were planning to present me with a masterpiece. Something capable of obliterating a manor or two. You know, standard Ludger logic.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You say that like it’s unreasonable.”

“It is unreasonable,” she whispered sharply. “But it’s also exactly what I’d expect from you.”

Ludger finally answered, deadpan and honest in the worst possible combination.

“I did want to give you a mountain-obliterating sword, but I didn’t have time to learn how to forge that level of weapon. And apparently” he lifted his chin toward where Torvares stood among the guests “I was told I’m supposed to give something a bit more memorable. Something appropriate for a girl turning fifteen.”

Viola sucked in a breath, eyes narrowing.

“My grandfather said that?”

Ludger nodded.

“Him and Yvar, he also ordered me to reveal it only at the end of the party. Something about wanting the night to end on a ‘memorable note.’”

Viola groaned quietly. “Of course he did.”

“But,” Ludger added, serious for once, “don’t get overly emotional. I’m warning you in advance.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Oh please. As if I’d cry.”

He gave her a look.

“…Fine,” she relented, cheeks warming. “Maybe I might get emotional. A little. But only if it’s… you know. Actually meaningful.”

“It is,” Ludger said simply. “So brace yourself.”

Viola stared at him for a moment longer, studying the faint tension around his eyes, the kind he got when he was overthinking something personal. Then, almost as if shaking herself free of the heaviness, she lightly tapped his shoulder.

“Alright,” she said. “But if you’re making me wait until the end of the night, then you owe me something else in the meantime.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Which is?”

“A dance with Luna.”

Ludger blinked. “Why Luna?”

“She’s been trying to hide somewhere this entire night,” Viola whispered. “But she’s also wearing a dress she’ll never admit she picked for this party. And the only person who can drag her out of the shadows without scaring her off is you.”

Ludger didn’t argue. He’d already noticed the shadow avoiding him all night, always skirting the edges of his seismic range, always shifting whenever he moved, always trying to stay in his blind spot like an overqualified assassin avoiding attention.

He sighed. “Fine. I’ll dance with her. She can stop stalking me for five minutes.”

“All right,” Ludger murmured as the music eased into its final stretch. “One last favor for the night.”

Viola tilted her head, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “What kind of favor?”

He exhaled slowly, as if preparing himself for something far more dangerous than assassins, underworld guilds, or berserker-draught lunatics.

“Something that’ll make your life easier during the other dances.”

“Oh?” Viola leaned in a little, curious. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“Just—” he cut himself off and tightened his grip on her hand for a moment. “Don’t make it weird or awkward. We’re half siblings.”

Viola blinked. “…Why would I make it weird?”

“Because you always do,” Ludger muttered.

She opened her mouth to argue, but he beat her to it.

He took a breath. A real one. And then, without stumbling, without fidgeting, without hiding behind sarcasm, he looked her in the eye and said, quietly but clearly:

“You look beautiful.”

Viola’s eyes shot open, shock flickering across her face. The kind of wide-eyed expression she didn’t even show in battle. Her breath hitched once, barely noticeable unless you knew her.

Ludger quickly added, deadpan:

“Tonight.”

Viola let out a sound like a strangled laugh. A mix of amusement, exasperation, and something warmer she tried, and failed, to hide.

“…Right,” she murmured, smiling in a way that wasn’t for the crowd, the nobles, or the guests. “Growing up a bit at a time.”

Ludger nodded, the faintest, most honest smile crossing his face before he smoothed it out again.

The music faded, the final rotation slowed, and the two of them stepped apart in perfect sync. For a heartbeat, the ballroom was silent.

Then the applause hit them like a wave, loud, enthusiastic, and thoroughly pleased. Nobles clapped, merchants whistled politely, northerners cheered far too loudly, and someone in the back even shouted something about “youthful elegance.”

Viola dipped her head gracefully. Ludger… tolerated the attention. But as they walked off the dance floor, she bumped his shoulder lightly with hers and whispered, just loud enough for him:

“Thank you. For everything.”

And Ludger, for once, didn’t shrug it off. He simply nodded.

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