The afternoon sun spilled across City B’s central plaza, a brilliant, almost oppressive light that made the air shimmer. Amidst the weekend bustle of vendors and wandering crowds, Uno stood as a stark silhouette. He was the first to arrive, a quiet sentinel leaning against the steel pillar of a gazebo. His simple attire was a black fitted T-shirt. Its soft, slightly distressed fabric clinging to the lean lines of his shoulders did little to diminish his presence. Instead, it accentuated the casual power of his posture. Toned arms were exposed beneath the sleeves, and black jeans tapered to his ankles. A black cap shadowed his face, casting a veil over his eyes and leaving only the sharp angle of his jawline in a striking, clean line. He was an island of stillness in a sea of motion, and even from a distance, passersby’s gazes were drawn to him, compelled to trace the commanding height of his frame. He was not merely a man. He was a lone pine standing above the forest, a quiet and effortless dominance that could not be ignored.

“You’re early.” A voice, lazy and soft like a passing breeze, cut through the noise.

Uno’s posture stiffened almost imperceptibly as Lev reached his side.

“Tsk.”

He turned, a flicker of irritation in his expression. It was a silent rebuke, as if Lev’s on-time arrival was a personal affront. Without a word, Uno turned on his heel and walked toward the plaza’s edge. Lev followed, his movements unhurried and graceful.

The car, a seamless sweep of chrome-white that gleamed like a blade under the sun, sat waiting at the curb. As they neared the car, Lev stopped in front of the passenger door, staring down at the handle as though it were some curious puzzle. He had never bothered with such things before. Whenever he went to the Hunter Association or anywhere else, he simply sprinted, swift enough that by the time a human blinked, he was already gone. To them, he was nothing more than a breeze passing by. And now, here he was, confronted by a door handle like some insurmountable trial.

Uno’s voice, sharp with impatience, cut through his thoughts. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know how to open this.”

“Unbelievable. You don’t even know how to open a damn door?” A soft, disbelieving scoff escaped Uno’s lips. The way Lev had said it was like the sulk of a spoiled child who couldn’t lift a finger without help.

He had never done such a thing for anyone, not once in his life. But for this man, he found himself doing it anyway. It was a gesture so uncharacteristic that it felt like an anomaly.

Lev’s lips curved faintly, almost pleased. A soft ripple of blue light ran along the car’s frame as he slipped inside. The inside of the car shifted at once, air and light adjusting to welcome his presence. With a flick of Uno’s hand, the door sealed shut.

As Uno settled into the driver’s seat, the console bloomed with holographic panels, streams of data flowing like liquid light beneath his touch. The engine stirred to life with a low, resonant hum, more alive than mechanical.

As the car slipped into the current of traffic, he asked Lev.

“Tell me, what fighting styles do you know?”

Lev sat with a lazy grace, his gaze fixed out the window while watching the city blur by. The question seemed to barely register. “Just the basics…. I know how to swing.” A faint, almost imperceptible tug at the corner of his mouth was all the smirk he allowed.

Uno’s brow furrowed.

“No stance, no proper defense, no drills. Then we start there. Stance. Balance. Discipline. You’ll follow what I say.”

Lev only shrugged, his attention already captivated by the passing scenery.

The car slowed and fell silent before a modern two-story house. Its sharp, polished edges reflected the pale morning light, and its engine released a final seamless hum. Uno tapped a command on the console, and the passenger door slid open with a muted hiss. Rather than leaving it at that, he leaned over, pushing it wider from the inside. The movement brought their distance close, too close.

His scent, clean with a faint trace of steel and ozone, drifted into Lev’s nose.

Lev’s gaze lifted, dark and unreadable, fixed squarely on him.

Uno was too occupied with the door to notice. But when he finally turned his head, the space between them still narrow, he caught Lev staring. The look was steady, disconcerting, as though there was something unsaid hovering behind those eyes. Uno couldn’t quite tell what lay beneath it.

“?”

He exited the car without another word.

Inside, the quiet deepened. The space was marked by clean lines, with pale stone floors and a single, graceful sculpture. It was functional yet refined, the kind of place that held a quiet, formidable strength.

“It’s different from the place where I sent you,” Lev commented.

“This is where I train,” Uno answered simply, leading the way.

They passed down a wide hallway, and the sunlight stretched in long golden bars across the polished floor. Uno opened a sliding door at the end, revealing a spacious training room. The floor was lined with reinforced panels, and mirrored sections reflected the morning light that poured from high windows.

“Quite the collection,” Lev remarked, his eyes roaming over the array of weaponry. Long spears pulsed with faint blue energy. Crossbows, reinforced with alloy, rested in their brackets. A pair of short swords gleamed under glass. Every piece, even the gloves and gauntlets, was fitted with subtle stabilizers and runes.

Uno walked to a wall cabinet and pulled out two pairs of reinforced gloves. He slipped his own on with ease before tossing a pair to Lev. “Put those on. You’ll need them.”

Lev caught them one-handed, a faint spark of amusement lingering in his eyes as he turned them over.

Uno didn’t wait. He disappeared into an adjoining room and returned minutes later, dressed in a fitted training uniform.

Lev had removed his white cotton overshirt that was cut like a casual jacket and now stood at ease in the middle of the room, fastening the gloves. The black sleeveless high-collar top clung close, drawing clean lines down his shoulders and chest. The cut was narrow enough to emphasize his lean waist. The light spilled across him, catching the faint sheen of muscle beneath pale skin. He looked so striking like a sculpture come to life.

Uno’s gaze flicked over him, and a flash of irritation crossed his eyes, as if he had caught himself in an unfavorable dilemma. He set his jaw, as if the very thought were an offense.

Lev, naturally, caught it all. A faint curve touched his lips as he tugged at the straps of his gloves, amusement flickering in his eyes like he had uncovered a secret meant to be hidden.

Uno suppressed the ripple of stray thoughts in his chest and crossed the room.

At the center of the hall, he assumed his stance with practiced ease. His frame formed sharp clean lines as if carved from discipline itself. His voice was low without a shred of indulgence.

“We’ll start with the foundation. Stance first. Feet apart, knees slightly bent. Hold it.”

Lev followed, though his movements carried a certain languidness, a grace untamed by formality. His posture lacked the grounding of true technique.

Uno’s irritation flared again. He moved around Lev like a hawk, an observer seeking out every subtle flaw. He adjusted Lev’s foot, pushing it out an inch, then circled back to his shoulder. Uno’s hand, a steady and firm presence, settled between Lev’s shoulder blades, guiding his posture upright.

Where Uno’s hand lingered, a peculiar current ran through Lev’s veins. It was faint yet startling. It was an unexpected, disorienting spark that cut through his usual detachment. When Uno withdrew, the sensation vanished, but its afterimage remained, a ghost on his skin. Lev’s fingers curled into his palms. A reflexive, unconscious motion as if he were trying to hold onto the fleeting touch.

“Keep your back straight. Don’t collapse your weight.” Uno instructed.

“Mm.” 

Uno’s sharp gaze lingered. “During the friendly match, you moved differently. For a moment, you looked like you knew what you were doing. Then you deliberately tripped, threw the fight.”

Ah, so he caught that. Lev’s lips curved, though only in thought.

Lev blinked, as though caught off guard by the accusation. His expression softened into something mild, even embarrassed, the curve of his brows almost apologetic. “Deliberately? You’re giving me too much credit, Captain. I did lose my balance.”

The corners of his mouth tugged into a sheepish smile, clear eyes shining with a disarming sincerity. It was the kind of look that left no room for malice, only the awkward honesty of a young man unskilled at defending himself.

Uno’s brows drew tight, the lines between them deepening. Clearly, he was not convinced.

“It was something I saw in a video game at the PK Arcade while playing with a friend. I thought I’d try to use it,” Lev continued, his tone innocent. “I guess I got a little ahead of myself.”

“PK Arcade?” 

Lev nodded, expression open, as though nothing could be more natural.

A short, incredulous snort escaped Uno. He pressed his fingers against his forehead, a vein in his temple ticking. Was this brat seriously saying he learned stances from arcade games? He exhaled heavily, the sound low, like someone restraining the urge to scold. What a complete joke.

The training carried on.