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Rover practically speed-walked the entire way back to the Leonidas Hotel.
The thick, plush carpets lining the corridors of the Leonidas swallowed his footsteps completely.
Abu, completely stuffed and satisfied, had already retreated into Rover's Tacet Mark to sleep off its meal. If there was one thing Rover genuinely appreciated about the little Echo, it was its impeccable timing. It never played the third wheel. Whenever a crucial moment arrived, Abu simply checked out and went to sleep.
As for Rover himself...
His heart had never beaten this fast. It was a chaotic mix of the lingering disorientation from his fused memories and the sheer, unfiltered thrill of finally getting to rewrite the story. Standing before the door to his suite, he took a deep, steadying breath and swiped his keycard.
The door clicked open, allowing a spill of warm light into the corridor. He stepped inside, the heavy door shutting silently behind him, completely isolating the room from the quiet hallway.
There, standing by the sofa in front of the massive panoramic LED window, was the familiar, breathtaking silhouette he had been expecting.
The red-haired girl had shed her signature crimson jacket. She was dressed only in her sleek, form-fitting white gladiator suit—an outfit that was as practical for combat as it was dangerously alluring. Behind her, her fluffy wolf tail gave a slow, languid swish in the still air.
She was staring blankly at the simulated cityscape on the LED screen, a glass bottle clutched loosely in her hand. Her cheeks were flushed with a deep, rosy hue, and her dark golden eyes were glazed and unfocused.
"Lupa," Rover called out softly.
The wolf-girl turned. Upon seeing Rover at the door, the corners of her lips curled upward into a soft, dizzy smile.
"You're here, partner..."
Her voice wasn't its usual crisp, energetic self. It was incredibly soft, dripping with the sticky, syrupy cadence of the mildly intoxicated.
The fierce aura of Septimont's star gladiator had completely vanished. Right now, she was just a little wolf cub who had retracted all her claws, willingly exposing her soft underbelly to the one person she trusted most.
He walked over, looking down at her flushed face.
"Have you had too much to drink?" Rover asked gently, reaching out to take the bottle from her grip.
"I only had... wheat juice." Lupa giggled, her smile carrying a rare, clumsy sweetness. She playfully dodged his hand, instead lifting the bottle toward his lips. "Want a sip?"
Her eyes sparkled, swirling with an undeniable, unspoken heat.
He didn't refuse. Leaning down, he took a sip right from her hand. The alcohol burned its way down his throat, but the sensation paled in comparison to the scorching intensity of her gaze.
Clearly not expecting him to actually drink from her bottle, Lupa's pupils widened. The flush on her cheeks deepened into a brilliant crimson.
"Partner..." She leaned in closer, her nose almost brushing against his collar. "You smell really good today."
Rover stood perfectly still, letting her sniff him. The girl's warm, soft breaths ghosted across the skin of his neck.
The strands of her red hair tickled the back of his hand—a silent, incredibly intimate invitation.
"I like it," she murmured. "You smell like sun-dried wheat. It's so warm."
"That's quite the specific description," Rover noted. "Does it... remind you of home?"
"Mhm. It just... feels like that." Lupa gave a small nod, muttering under her breath. "When I was little... my favorite thing to do was roll around in the wheat fields."
She turned to walk toward the sofa. Whether it was the alcohol or just a momentary lapse in balance, her tall leather boots caught on the rug. She stumbled forward with a sharp gasp. The bottle slipped from her fingers, hitting the plush carpet with a muffled thud.
Rover reacted instantly. He lunged forward, his right hand firmly catching the hand she instinctively threw out, while his left hand clamped securely around her smooth, bare shoulder to steady her.
Warmth and softness crashed into his embrace.
Her body was incredibly supple—a stark, jarring contrast to the fierce, wind-like warrior he remembered from the arena.
The moment their skin touched, a subtle, electrifying shiver ran through them both.
Rover's palm grew hot against her skin. Lupa's shoulder, initially cool to the touch, was rapidly infected by his radiating body heat.
At this moment, she was utterly defenseless, leaning into him like a lost wolf who had finally found her den.
He supported her weight, guiding her toward the sofa. But rather than letting go, her fingers tightened convulsively around his hand.
Lupa looked up at him through hazy, adoring eyes. Her voice was a soft, melted murmur. "Having my partner by my side... makes me so happy."
Rover didn't pull away. Instead, his grip on her grew firmer, his tone laced with an undeniable, authoritative care.
"No more wheat juice for you, Lupa. Let's sit down for a bit."
Half-guiding, half-carrying her, he walked her the rest of the way to the sofa.
She leaned almost her entire weight against him. For a seasoned gladiator, her body was built with resilient, explosive power, yet against his chest, she felt remarkably fragile and light.
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They sank into the plush cushions together. Instead of sitting upright, Lupa simply let herself fall sideways, naturally resting her head against his shoulder.
A faint, intoxicating scent wafted from her hair—a wild blend of sunshine and the lingering adrenaline of battle. It filled his senses, slowly stirring the turbulent emotions buried in his chest.
She began to speak in disjointed fragments. Her voice was muffled, carrying the heavy relief of someone who had just survived a nightmare, softened by the buzz of alcohol. She talked about the aftermath of Lady Yulia's incident, the tedious communications with the Governor's Palace, the grueling effort to track down the scattered members of the Silva family, Augusta's impending reforms, and, finally, a deep, sorrowful sigh for Mia.
"Even though it's all over, my chest still feels so tight... I just needed a drink to take the edge off."
She paused, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the fabric of his sleeve. "Sometimes I wonder... When my parents first brought me to Septimont, what if they hadn't handed me over to the Silva family? What would my life be like now? Like those stage plays... a completely different ending."
Rover sat in absolute silence. Right now, Lupa didn't need a hero; she just needed a completely devoted listener. It wasn't until her voice finally trailed off that he spoke, his tone incredibly soft.
"Is there another life you wish you could have lived, Lupa?"
She rubbed her cheek affectionately against his shoulder, quiet for a moment as she thought it over. Then, she slowly shook her head.
"No, never mind. I'm actually really happy with how things turned out. Every loss comes with a gain. Because of everything that happened... I met you. And that's enough."
A brief, comfortable silence settled over them. Then, Lupa tilted her head to look up at him.
"Life is like the arena. Winning and losing are just parts of the game. No one can stay undefeated forever. And the more victories you stack, the heavier the expectations become... making the threat of failure even more terrifying." She searched his eyes. "Partner... do you ever worry that one day, you might face defeat?"
"...Yes."
The answer came without hesitation.
He felt the crushing pressure of the future as a player who knew what horrors were coming, combined with the immense, tangible weight of his present responsibilities as the Rover.
He wasn't a god. He was just a man who had lived a very, very long time.
He bled when cut. He felt sorrow. He experienced grief. And naturally, he feared failure.
"I think... it's because you're always fulfilling everyone else's expectations. You've just gotten used to surviving that way." Lupa's voice was a whisper, thick with an aching empathy.
Without a second thought, she reached up and intertwined her fingers with the hand he had used to steady her, locking them together in a tight, seamless grip.
"Even if that day comes... Even if you do face defeat... please remember that the people you've saved will never let you face it alone."
Her words were quiet, but laced with the unbreakable steel of an absolute vow.
She guided their joined hands upward, pressing them firmly against the soft, rising curve of her chest.
It was obvious. The girl who usually followed his lead was taking the initiative, actively responding to the unspoken desires hovering between them.
Through the thin fabric of her suit, Rover could vividly feel her scorching body heat and the frantic, drum-like hammering of her heartbeat against his palm.
She stared into his eyes, her gaze impossibly clear and resolute.
"I might not be as strong as you... but if you ever call my name, no matter how far away you are, I will charge into your battlefield."
"I swear it by the eternal, unyielding sun, my partner."
The air in the room seemed to freeze completely.
Rover stared down at her. He stared into those dark golden eyes that reflected his own face—eyes brimming with a fierce, unwavering loyalty and a heavy, suffocatingly tender affection.
The newly awakened player memories in his mind rang like a bell.
The time is now.
He didn't reply with words.
Instead, he slowly leaned down and pressed his lips against her smooth forehead. The kiss was impossibly gentle, as light as a brushing feather.
Lupa's entire body went rigid. And then, as if all the bones in her body had suddenly melted, she went completely slack against him. A tiny, uncontrollable whimper—like a needy, helpless animal—escaped the back of her throat.
"Partner... you smell so good."
It was a signal. A visceral, undeniable surrender that spoke louder than any verbal consent.
Rover abandoned all hesitation.
He raised his free hand, gently cupping her flushed, burning cheek, his thumb affectionately caressing her smooth skin.
Then, he leaned down, decisively and flawlessly capturing those soft, red lips.
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