Meanwhile, in a world of dappled sunlight and gentle breezes, Leo and Rina remained blissfully unaware of the storm of resentment brewing in the training hall. Their world was confined to the shade of the great tree, a tranquil bubble where the only sounds were the rustling leaves and their own easy laughter. The afternoon was a perfect, warm blanket, and they were wrapped comfortably within it. Leo, however, was a creature of instinct and mischief, and a subtle shift in Rina's usual vibrancy had not escaped his notice. It was a quietness behind her eyes, a slight hesitation in her laughter that he, knowing her better than he knew his own heart, could not ignore.
He let the comfortable silence stretch for a moment longer before he moved, shifting his weight to lean closer to her. The sunlight caught his crystal-blue eyes, igniting a mischievous glint that promised both trouble and amusement.
"Time to know what you've been hiding," he declared, his voice a low, teasing murmur.
Rina stilled, the relaxed line of her shoulders instantly tensing.
"So, dear Rina," he began, his lips curving into a wolfish grin, "care to tell me what happened between you and Artur?"
The effect was immediate and telling. Rina froze as if struck. Her wide pink eyes, usually so clear and direct, darted left and right like a startled rabbit searching for an escape route that didn't exist. The flush that crept up her neck was a banner of guilt. This reaction, so transparent and flustered, was all the confirmation Leo needed, and it fueled a sadistic, deeply familiar urge to tease the whole story out of her.
"I-I don't know what you're talking about," she stammered, her voice climbing a full octave in a flimsy attempt at nonchalance.
As expected, her denial was so weak it was almost an admission. Leo chuckled, a soft, knowing sound.
"Come on, I know you better than anyone. Something definitely happened. The air around you went all weird after you saw him this morning. Better spill it now—because you know I won't stop pestering you until you do." He settled back, crossing his arms, his expression one of utter, immovable resolve. He was a boulder in the stream of her evasion, and she would have to go through him.
Rina exhaled a sharp, defeated sigh. She knew this side of him all too well. When Leo latched onto a mystery, he was like a terrier with a rat; he would not let go. She ran through the consequences in her mind: the awkwardness that would now forever tinge their trio, the possibility that Leo, in his characteristic fiery loyalty, might actually confront Artur and make everything a thousand times worse. He was absolutely the type to charge headfirst into a delicate situation like a bull in a crystal shop. Seeing no escape, she surrendered, her shoulders slumping.
"Earlier… Artur confessed to me—"
She never got to finish.
"Hahaha!" Leo burst out laughing, a sudden, explosive sound that ripped through the tranquil air and made Rina jump. He threw his head back, laughter roaring from him like thunder, so hearty and unrestrained that he had to clutch his stomach.
"That idiot—he actually couldn't hold it in anymore and went through with it? Pfft—ahahaha! What a meaningless thing to do!"
Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes as he struggled to breathe, his entire body shaking with the force of his amusement.
Rina could only stare, her mouth slightly agape. This was not a reaction she had prepared for. She had anticipated jealousy, perhaps, or concern, or even thoughtful silence. But this unbridled, almost cruel mirth? It was the last thing she expected, and it left her completely bewildered.
"Why are you laughing like that—as if I obviously rejected him?" she asked, her voice a mixture of confusion and a faint, indignant hurt.
"Because of course you would," Leo said matter-of-factly, finally managing to wipe the tears from his eyes, though snickers still escaped him. "There's no way you'd accept his confession. It's not in your nature. You don't feel that way about him at all. To you, he's nothing more than a friend… maybe a brother at best. The thought of you looking at him with romantic stars in your eyes is just… hilarious."
The sheer, unshakable certainty in his tone left Rina utterly speechless. He had read her with an accuracy that was almost frightening. Out of all the tangled emotions and worries she had carried since that morning, he had sliced straight to the simple, unvarnished truth. For once, the ever-defensive, ever-verbal Rina was at a complete and total loss for words.
Then, without any warning, Leo leaned back casually against the tree trunk, a sly, possessive grin tugging at his lips. The laughter was gone from his eyes, replaced by a glint of something more serious, more intense.
"Jokes aside…" he said, his voice dropping to a low, almost dangerous purr. "How dare that guy covet my woman?"
The words landed not as a joke, but as a declaration. His eyes held hers, and they were not joking.
Rina's entire face transformed into a brilliant, uniform crimson. It was as if all the blood in her body had made a frantic, simultaneous rush to her cheeks, heating her skin until she felt she might steam. She looked like a perfectly ripe tomato on the verge of a catastrophic explosion.
"W-who is your woman, you pervert?!" she shrieked, her voice cracking under the weight of her flustered embarrassment.
"Obviously, it's you," Leo answered without a millisecond of hesitation, puffing his chest out with an exaggerated, prideful swagger.
"I've already decided—you'll be my first wife!"
The playful, teasing atmosphere shattered, replaced by something far more volatile. Rina's pink eyes narrowed into slits, glowing with a dangerous, stormy light. An almost palpable aura of menace flared around her, causing the very air to grow heavy. The sharp, lethal glare she shot him was enough to make a seasoned warrior consider a tactical retreat.
"Do you wish to die, Leo Roschild?" she hissed, her voice low and deadly. "First wife? So you're planning to have multiple wives, is what you're saying, isn't it?"
Instead of being intimidated, Leo's smile only widened, becoming impossibly more mischievous. The corners of his lips curled into that infuriatingly smug expression she knew all too well. His gaze all but screamed,
'Oh? Did I just catch you slipping? You focused on the 'first' part, not the 'my woman' part.'
Rina realized her catastrophic verbal misstep a heartbeat too late. Her entire body stiffened, the furious aura vanishing as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the sheer, hot wave of her embarrassment. In a panic, she covered her burning face with both hands, unable to bear the triumphant look in his eyes.
"S-so you're not denying it anymore, huh?" Leo teased, leaning in close, his voice a singsong taunt designed to make her squirm.
"You're not saying 'I'm not your woman,' you're just angry about the order. Noted."
"D-Die!!" Rina snapped, her embarrassment instantly re-igniting into pure, unadulterated fury. She lunged at him, fists flying in a wild, uncoordinated flurry.
But Leo, laughing with joyous abandon, was already moving. He danced away from her attacks with an effortless grace, his movements a teasing, fluid dodge. And just like that, another one of their wild chases began—two familiar silhouettes darting and weaving across the sun-drenched field, his triumphant laughter and her furious shouts chasing each other on the summer air.
"Seriously, she's way too easy to tease, and I can't get enough of it," Leo thought inwardly, the corners of his mouth curled in a victorious smirk. Behind him, Rina's furious footsteps pounded against the grass, each stomp a perfect echo of her flustered rage. Her face was still the color of a steamed lobster, and she swung her arms with a comical lack of precision, driven purely by emotion.
Leo ducked low, slipping past her grasping hands as if time itself bent to his will. Strands of his silver-white hair caught the sunlight, gleaming like metal. Her pink eyes blazed with the promise of vengeance, her pleated skirt swishing sharply with every frustrated pivot. Yet, no matter how fast she lunged or how fiercely she swung, his amused, almost lazy dodges always kept him one step ahead—a nimble fox effortlessly outmaneuvering an adorably enraged rabbit.
After chasing each other until their lungs burned and their sides ached, the two finally slowed, their energy spent. The playful skirmish drew to a natural, breathless close. With tired but mutually satisfied steps, they wandered, as if by unspoken agreement, toward one of the many grand gardens that graced the Roschild clan's vast domain.