Chapter: 0.44: moon challenges the lion

The sounds of silver against porcelain echoed softly through the vast hall as dinner continued in solemn quiet. Golden candlelight danced upon polished goblets and gleaming plates, while outside, the obsidian sky hung heavy over the estate like a judgment passed.

Rina's thoughts remained adrift—tangled in Jin's words, in the quiet cruelty of his smile, and in the brutal simplicity of his existence. A life of training, solitude, silence. No sweets. No drinks. No comfort. She barely heard the slow, measured voice that broke the quiet again.

Naoko Rochey placed her fork down with a delicate clink and turned her head slightly—not toward Rina this time, but toward Leona.

"Leonehart."

Her voice was calm, even… but something shifted in the air. Leona straightened instinctively, still holding her glass of wine halfway to her lips.

"Yes?" she answered, cautious.

Naoko studied her with those silver, ancient eyes—unblinking, assessing.

"What would you say," she said slowly, "to facing Jin in a duel tomorrow?"

The words fell like a blade onto the table.

Leona blinked.

Rina looked up, startled.

Amelia did not move, but her golden gaze narrowed slightly, ever so slightly.

Naoko continued as if offering nothing more than a suggestion about the weather. "You both use swords. You both carry legacy. The hall of steel on the eastern side of the estate is spacious enough for two."

Leona opened her mouth, but nothing came out immediately. Naoko raised an eyebrow slightly and gestured toward the blade strapped elegantly to Leona's back.

"The sword you carry," she said, "looks like it hasn't seen blood in years. If it's left too long, even a lion's fang rusts."

That stung.

Leona's back straightened.

"I use it," she said defensively.

Naoko's lips curled just slightly.

"If so," she said, "then prove it. Let me see what the sword arts of the Lionheart family look like. If you defeat Jin…" she paused, lifting her goblet slowly, "I'll grant you a gift. A spiritual blade. One that breathes mana and sings with every strike."

Leona's blue eyes widened.

Spiritual swords were rare. Weapons forged not only from steel, but from bound spirits, from bloodlines and forgotten chants. Ancient, powerful—almost mythical in nature.

"And if I lose?" Leona asked cautiously.

Naoko tilted her head. Her silver hair shifted across her bare shoulder like molten moonlight.

"Then you lose," she said with perfect neutrality. "Nothing more."

She took a sip of water, then added, "If you're wondering why I chose you instead of Rina, the answer should be obvious. You are a swordbearer. She is a sorceress. A direct clash would leave her broken, perhaps permanently. Jin wouldn't even try."

Leona blinked. "…He wouldn't try?"

"No," Naoko replied, coolly. "Because mages are fragile. Their bones, their organs, their spirit channels. A sword to the ribs could stop her heart. Jin would not risk it."

Rina remained quiet.

She wasn't even listening.

Her eyes were fixed somewhere past the goblets and golden plates, her mind buried in fragments of what she'd heard earlier. Jin's solitude, his cold routines, the things he loathed. He prepared his food alone. Trained until dawn. Drank nothing but water. She imagined him moving in the shadows of the Rochey estate like a ghost—unseen, untouched, unknowable.

*He only came tonight because we're here.*

Her gaze dropped to the untouched meat on her plate.

A lion's growl broke her reverie.

Leona's jaw was tight, her wine glass forgotten beside her.

"You're challenging me," she said slowly, "to prove my family's legacy?"

Naoko leaned slightly forward, her tone still smooth.

"What's wrong, Lionheart? Are you the heart of a lion… or the sigh of a kitten?"

Silence. The insult wasn't loud, but it was precise.

A blade in the dark.

Leona's mouth opened slightly in shock. She'd understood immediately—and so had everyone else. The words were laced with deliberate ambiguity, but they carried a message loud and clear: *Are you afraid? Is your sword only for show? Do you doubt yourself that much?*

Amelia's eyes narrowed—not at Leona, but at Naoko. She placed her wine glass down slowly.

"That wasn't necessary," Amelia said, her tone sharp.

Naoko turned to her calmly. "It wasn't an insult. Merely an observation. She hesitated. That alone says enough."

Leona's hands tightened on the edge of the table.

"I'll do it," she said finally, trying to mask her unease with pride.

Naoko smiled. A small, graceful thing.

"Good."

Rina still said nothing. She wasn't fully present. Her thoughts wandered back to the corridor, the ghostly expression in Jin's eyes when he spoke of their future. Her mind was a blur of memories and questions she couldn't voice.

Amelia looked at her daughter for a long moment. Then she turned her gaze back to Naoko.

"I see your son inherited your ability to draw blood with words before ever lifting a sword," she murmured.

Naoko laughed softly.

"Is that a compliment, Amelia… or a complaint?"

Amelia raised a brow. "Would it matter?"

Naoko sipped again from her glass, and said nothing more.