Chapter 0.96 Jin and Sion

The deep silence of the obsidian hall shattered with the low hum of energy warping reality itself. Space trembled, cracked like glass, and from its center bloomed a radiant, violet gate—ethereal and silent.

A portal.

Its edges shimmered with hues of purple and black, like the rim of a dying star. From within, a shadow stepped forward, cloaked in quiet confidence, bathed in the eerie glow of dimensional magic.

Jin Rotschy had returned.

Though he hadn't yet mastered the *Purple Moon*, his command over its power had grown—enough to tear open reality with precision. The *Purple Moon* was a Void-type element, tied to an abstract energy field far more vast and ancient than mere space. Void wasn't emptiness—it was **everything** too distant to be touched. While space was wide, the Void was infinite. Like comparing a lake to an ocean, the difference wasn't nature… it was scale.

And when combined with the *White Moon*, a lunar aspect of pure velocity—light, photons, speed itself—the result was instantaneous relocation.

Not teleportation.

**Reflection.**

He thought of the estate, fed the Void a memory, and used the moonlight as a mirror to fold existence inward. The result: he arrived in a place he had already been, bypassing physical travel altogether.

The portal vanished behind him.

The Rotschy manor stood quiet, regal as ever. Walls of black marble loomed above him, lit faintly by violet flames flickering in golden sconces. It was cold, even elegant in its silence. A kind of sacred emptiness.

Jin stepped into the vast main hall and glanced around.

Only one figure awaited him.

"Welcome back, young master," came a warm, lilting voice.

Standing at the base of the grand staircase was *Sion*.

Her presence was impossible to miss. She was striking, as always—chestnut hair with a reddish tint cascading over one shoulder in loose waves, eyes the same color, sharp and playful. Her body was a perfect blend of elegance and danger—tall, curved, confident. She wore a tight black leather jacket over a half-buttoned white blouse, just barely revealing the hint of soft, pale cleavage beneath. Her pants clung to her legs like a second skin, black and glossy. Combat boots tapped against the marble floor as she took a single step forward.

Crimson lips curled into a familiar smirk.

"Missed me already?" she said, one brow arched.

Jin gave her a lazy grin, his crimson eyes gleaming. A lock of black hair fell over one eye, giving him a casually disheveled charm.

"Well, well," he said, hands in his pockets. "Sion, you look dangerously good. As always. Black leather suits you—it really brings out the whole *'tempt me into sin'* aesthetic."

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "And yet, you're still standing there instead of throwing yourself at my boots. Disappointing."

He laughed softly. "Please. I'm too pretty to grovel."

She walked toward him slowly, hips swaying in a deliberate rhythm, and crossed her arms just beneath her chest—subtle, yet calculated. "So?" she asked sweetly. "How was your first day at the academy, my devil prince? Did some poor girl try to trap you in a closet?"

Jin smirked. "Nothing that exciting. A few stares, a few glares. I think someone tried to poison my mana water. But hey, that's just Monday."

Sion snorted. "Sounds like you had fun."

"I did," he said, then tilted his head. "But where *were* you, Sion? I got married today. Kind of a big deal. My radiant bride cried into my shirt and everything."

Her smirk faltered just slightly. "Lady Naoko sent me on a task. Urgent business."

"Mmh," he muttered with mock disappointment. "Tragic. I was going to let you catch the bouquet."

Sion chuckled and leaned in closer, her face just inches from his. "And I would've thrown it right back at your face."

"I expect nothing less."

She blinked, then smiled gently as if remembering something. "You know, you haven't changed. Still charming. Still annoyingly composed."

Jin stepped closer, now face-to-face. "And you're still my favorite combat secretary-slash-personal bodyguard-slash—"

"Slash what?"

He pretended to think, then tapped his chin. "Slash the only woman in the world who knows what color my socks are."

"Oh, please," she scoffed. "As if a man like you even *owns* socks."

His grin turned wicked. "True. But I do own lace."

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed but entertained. "I swear, if you're going to flirt with me, at least make it original."

He leaned just slightly closer, voice lower. "Fine. I'll be honest then. That blouse? The white one with the sheer fabric and the little frills along the edge? I bet it's hiding something even prettier underneath. Am I wrong?"

Sion didn't flinch. She just smiled.

"You'd be surprised," she whispered. "But I'm not showing you *my* lace unless you earn it, prince."

"Challenge accepted," Jin replied with a grin, then backed off. "But seriously—where's Mother?"

"Still in the west wing," Sion replied. "Meditating. I don't think she's moved in hours."

Jin nodded, suddenly more somber. "Figures. She hates noise. And weddings."

Sion's smile softened.

There was an ease between them—this game of teasing and half-flirting was routine, comfortable. Neither of them took it seriously. And yet, beneath the jokes, there was something unspoken. A quiet understanding. She had been beside him longer than anyone else. She knew when to joke… and when not to.

She took a breath. "And Rena?"

"Resting," Jin said. "She'll need her strength. There's a storm coming."

Sion nodded slowly, then stepped closer—this time not in flirtation, but in quiet sincerity.

"You okay, Jin?"

He didn't answer right away. Just stared at the flame dancing in one of the nearby sconces.

Finally, he said, "I don't know yet."