The moment the words left her mouth, a shadow lunged from behind Damon, a dagger flashing in the dim light as it drove forward with lethal precision toward his back, but Damon did not turn, did not hesitate, his body reacting purely on instinct as he slid to the side in one fluid motion, the blade missing its intended target yet still grazing across the left side of his back, slicing through fabric and skin just enough to draw a sharp line of pain from his mouth.
"Grrh..!"
But he had already moved.
His body twisted, his leg sweeping low across the ground in a precise counter meant to take the attacker's balance, only for the figure to react just as quickly, leaping upward and over him with unnatural agility before landing behind him in a soft, controlled motion that made no sound at all.
Damon straightened immediately, the sting at his side pulsing as he turned, his eyes locking onto the figure now standing a few steps away.
A black latex suit clung tightly to the figure's slender body, concealing every inch of skin, even the face hidden behind a smooth, seamless mask that reflected the faint light without revealing anything beneath.
Damon's eyes narrowed slightly.
An assassin…?
Who could have sent her…?
He didn't get the time to think further.
The figure moved again.
A blur closing the distance between them as a strike came straight for his throat, but Damon stepped in instead of back, deflecting the attack with the back of his hand while his other arm snapped forward in a short, controlled punch aimed at the ribs, forcing the figure to twist away and retaliate instantly with a sharp elbow toward his jaw.
Damon slipped it and countered.
Their movements clashed in rapid succession, each strike meeting a block, each feint answered with another, the confined space forcing the fight into tight, efficient exchanges where neither wasted motion, but even within that speed, a difference became clear.
Damon was cleaner.
Sharper.
More decisive.
The assassin was fast, but reactive.
Damon pressed forward.
A feint high—
A strike low—
A step inside—
Then his hand shot forward.
In one swift motion, he grabbed the figure by the neck and lifted it off the ground, his grip tightening as its feet left the floor, body tensing as the figure struggled against him.
His golden eyes burned.
"Who are you?"
"And who sent you?"
Still nothing.
Only resistance.
Damon's expression hardened.
"Good… you don't want to speak, huh?"
His grip tightened further.
"I know how to make the likes of you open their mou—"
Without hesitation, Damon released her and moved instantly, his body shifting out of the line of danger just as a tiny needle shot forward from where the mouth should have been beneath the smooth latex mask, slicing through the space he had occupied a split second earlier.
Damon shifted the instant the needle missed him, his body already moving to re-engage when a weak voice cut through the tension behind him.
"Y-young master…"
His gaze flicked toward her just for a moment.
And that moment was enough.
The assassin moved.
A blur slipping past the opening, her body darting toward the kitchen with practiced precision as she vaulted through the open window in one smooth motion, disappearing into the night before Damon could close the distance.
Damon reached the window a second later, his hand gripping the edge as he leaned forward, ready to follow—
But he stopped.
His fingers tightened against the frame as they trembled.
For a brief second, the night outside seemed distant, irrelevant.
Then—
He turned back.
His expression hardened instantly as he stepped away from the window and moved toward the bathroom again, his steps quick but controlled despite the sharp sting along his back where blood still seeped steadily through torn fabric.
The maid was still there, lying where he had left her.
Her body looked lighter now, weaker, her eyes half-lidded as they stared unfocused toward the doorway through which he entered, as though she had been waiting for him to return.
Damon didn't waste time.
He crouched beside her, then carefully lifted her into his arms, the motion pulling at the wound on his back and forcing a low groan from his throat that he didn't bother suppressing.
"Y-young… master…"
Her fingers weakly clutched at his sleeve.
He didn't answer , carrying her out of the bathroom, Damon moved into the main room and gently placed her on the bed, adjusting her position with surprising care before straightening up, his breathing still uneven as he looked down at her.
Then he stepped closer again.
"What happened?"
His voice was calm.
The maid's chest rose and fell rapidly, sweat glistening across her skin as she struggled to speak, her voice weak and uneven.
"I-I don't know… I was just… drying your casual clothes in the bathroom… and then I suddenly… ahh…"
Her words broke as discomfort crossed her face.
Damon's brows furrowed.
Without another word, he moved.
In one swift motion, he turned her onto her side, his hand already reaching for the chain at the back of her uniform as he pulled it down just enough to expose her back, his eyes narrowing as he scanned quickly—
Then stopped.
There.
Damon's fingers pressed down hard on that exact spot.
The reaction was immediate.
A tiny, sharp needle pushed outward from beneath her skin, its tip emerging just enough to confirm what he had suspected.
The maid cried out softly.
"Aaaah—!"
Damon didn't hesitate.
Reaching to the side, he grabbed a sheet of paper from the desk and wrapped it around his fingers before gripping the exposed needle firmly, then pulled it out in one precise motion.
The moment it came free, blood welled up from the puncture, spilling down her back as her body tensed from the pain.
Damon's expression didn't change.
"Stay like this," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I'll be back quickly."
And before she could respond—
He was already gone.
Damon moved down the stairs at a speed that bordered on reckless, his footsteps barely making contact with each step as his body pushed forward, while his mind raced just as fast, thoughts colliding and rearranging themselves in rapid succession as he tried to decide his next move.
Should I go to the infirmary… bring a doctor…?
The option surfaced—
And immediately met resistance.
That would mean explaining the assassination attempt… and I'm not sure yet if I want to bring it to attention yet…
His jaw tightened slightly.
Then—
…Let's hope she's still there. If not—
He didn't let the thought finish.
His pace increased.
By the time he reached the ground floor, he barely slowed as he passed the receptionist, only sparing a single sentence without even turning his head.
"It's an emergency."
And then he was gone again.
The night air hit him as he exited the building, cool and sharp against his skin as he ran across the academy grounds with a clear destination in mind, cutting through the paths without hesitation until the familiar outline of the park came into view.
His eyes scanned quickly as they locked onto a bench.
He dashed toward it.
"Hey! Wake up!"
No response.
His voice rose, sharper, urgent.
"Wake up!"
A figure stirred.
Pink hair shifted as the person on the bench slowly sat up, a long yawn escaping her lips as her half-lidded eyes struggled to focus.
"Awahh…"
She blinked lazily, her gaze settling on Damon as if trying to piece together a distant memory.
"…Hmm? Why do I feel like I've seen you before…?"
Damon didn't indulge her.
Without wasting a second, he pulled out the paper, carefully unfolding it just enough to reveal the sharp needle inside before holding it out toward her.
"I need the antidote for this," he said, his voice firm and urgent. "Right now."
She blinked once.
Then leaned forward closer.
Her nose almost brushing against the paper as she inhaled lightly, examining it not with urgency, but with an almost casual curiosity that contrasted sharply with Damon's tension.
Then she straightened.
"It's nothing serious," she said, her tone calm, almost dismissive. "Just a paralytic. It puts the body into a half-asleep state… makes it too weak to move properly."
Another small yawn escaped her.
"The effects will wear off on their own in a few hours."
Damon stilled.
The tension in his shoulders eased just slightly.
"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice still guarded.
She nodded lazily.
"Mm."
A breath of relief left him.
Then he turned…ready to leave.
Only to feel a light tug at the hem of his uniform.
Damon paused mid-step and glanced back over his shoulder without fully turning, only to find Lunaria's fingers lightly gripping the hem of his blazer as she looked up at him with those half-lidded pink eyes, her expression as unreadable as ever, which made him narrow his gaze slightly as a thought crossed his mind.
Is she obsessed with the hem of my clothes or what…
Before he could say anything, her voice came out softly.
"You are bleeding…"
Damon followed her gaze for a brief second, then dismissed it just as quickly.
"It's nothing… it will heal on its own."
Lunaria tilted her head slightly, her eyes lowering toward the wound again as if examining something beyond what was visible.
"There are traces of slow poison in it…"
The shift in Damon's expression was immediate.
His gaze hardened.
"Is it the same kind?"
She shook her head gently.
"No… this one is deadly."
A brief silence followed.
Then, without another word, she patted the empty space beside her on the bench.
Damon hesitated for a fraction of a second before sitting down, his posture still guarded even as he complied, while Lunaria reached forward and began removing his blazer without asking.
"Hey—"
"I will remove the poison before it spreads," she said calmly, cutting him off as if his protest carried no weight.
Her fingers moved with quiet certainty as she nudged him to take off his waistcoat as well, and though he hesitated briefly, he eventually complied, pulling it off with a low groan as the movement tugged at the wound along his back.
A sharp sting followed.
His muscles tightened instinctively.
Lunaria didn't stop.
Her hands worked near the wound with careful precision, and as Damon felt her touch, controlled and deliberate, a thought surfaced unbidden.
Is her resonance related to knowledge…? Something academic… analytical…?
His eyes shifted slightly as he spoke.
"What do you want?"
He turned his head just enough to look back at her over his shoulder.
Lunaria blinked once slowly.
"…What do I want?"
Her voice carried faint confusion, as if the concept itself needed clarification.
Damon exhaled lightly.
"For helping me… and for not speaking about today to anyone."
She blinked again, her gaze lowering slightly as if considering the question for the first time.
"I don't know…"
Damon sighed, already expecting that kind of answer.
"Then let's take it as me owing you a favor."
For a moment, she said nothing.
Her eyes dropped to the ground, her fingers still working with quiet focus as the night air moved gently around them, carrying a silence that lingered just a little longer than it should have.