Bedroom.
Jeanne practically fled back to her room, faceplanting into the bed and smashing a pillow over her burning cheeks. The flush crawling from her ears down her neck betrayed everything she was feeling.
"Wh-why... how did I agree to that so easily?" She squirmed beneath the pillow, curling into herself. "I should have... turned him down flat..."
Living room.
Ten minutes passed.
Twenty minutes passed.
An hour... slipped quietly by.
Leon stood up, expression flat as stone.
He'd lost it.
"Jeanne!"
Creak...
The bedroom door opened. Under Leon's gaze, Jeanne emerged, slow step by slow step.
She wrestled her embarrassment down by force and summoned every ounce of courage she had, standing before him, presenting herself in full.
It was just a battle outfit. Practical, built for movement. Nothing more. Yet under the heat of Leon's stare, she felt exposed, an inexplicable warmth prickling across her skin.
She had no idea what was going through his head. His eyes were glowing.
A deep blue clerical dress, high-slit for mobility, traced the elegant lines of her figure. Black thigh-high stockings lent a sharpness to the silhouette.
Once you paired this with the armor he'd commissioned from Tsubaki... silver gauntlets, greaves, a chest-and-skirt plate, plus the chain-linked gorget and forehead guard...
Together, the full ensemble would be a perfect recreation of the Jeanne he remembered.
"Golden hair, blue eyes, braided loops in thigh-highs... the forbidden, chain-bound maiden." The words left him in a near-whisper. "The Holy Maiden, in the flesh..."
Jeanne went rigid, face scarlet. "H-have you seen enough?!"
The answer came before Leon could think. "More. It's gorgeous. I love it. Keep going."
"You... hmph!" Jeanne put on a show of indignant embarrassment, but a secret thrill hummed beneath it.
Only...
She didn't understand.
Why did showing herself to Leon, hearing his praise, make her this happy?
The strange flutter in her chest left her flustered in ways she'd never experienced before.
At least they were alone.
Jeanne let out a quiet breath of relief. The initial panic had faded, and she was settling into the outfit's unfamiliar feel.
At the very least, his gaze no longer made her freeze up completely.
...
Happy hours always slip away unnoticed. Dawn broke before either of them realized it.
The first light of morning spilled through the windows, opening another act in the midsummer heat.
Leon woke at his usual time and glanced toward the window. A few bright stars still flickered against the pale blue sky.
He stretched, washed up, and fell into routine: watering the plants, morning training, cooking breakfast, tidying the house.
Somewhere in the middle of it all, Jeanne's door opened.
She wore one of yesterday's purchases.
A pastoral-style dress with country charm: leather suspender-belts cinching the waist, matching sleeve covers and an apron, delicate lace trim along the hem, and a distinctive pleated collar. Every detail felt considered.
Jeanne had braided her golden hair into twin plaits that hung forward over her shoulders. Mid-heeled leather ankle boots completed the look, giving her a fresh, polished air.
"Good morning, Leon."
One glance at the new look and his eyes lit up.
"Good morning, Jeanne. That suits you perfectly. You look wonderful."
His hands never stopped moving as he said it. A flick of the wrist sent a fried egg arcing through the air, landing neatly back in the pan.
"Thank you..." A faint blush touched her cheeks, but she recovered quickly.
Last night's trial by fire had evidently built up her resistance to his compliments.
"Any plans for today?" She walked to the table. "I remember you saying our routine from here on would be exploring the Dungeon or taking on commissions?"
"That's the plan," Leon said, dusting the egg with black pepper and flaked sea salt. "But our weapons and armor aren't ready yet, so there's no sense rushing. The Dungeon isn't the surface. Anything can happen down there."
"Then today...?"
"Sparring." He set breakfast on the table. "We get familiar with each other's fighting style and start building team coordination."
"Combat?" Jeanne perked up. She liked the sound of that. Command was her specialty, true, but she was no stranger to the art of fighting either.
Besides, she was curious. She wanted to see what this "veteran Adventurer" could actually do in a fight.
...
...
The yard. Five meters apart.
Leon settled into his stance, training spear in both hands. Across from him, Jeanne held hers loosely at her side, weight on her back foot, watching.
Her eyes moved over his form once. The openings were everywhere. Shoulders too high. Feet too narrow. Weight distributed wrong. She almost thought he was baiting her.
He wasn't.
Leon beckoned with two fingers. "Come on. Won't waste too much of your time."
Jeanne's body blurred.
One instant she was five meters away. The next, Leon's pupils shrank. The tip of her spear filled his vision, driving straight for his sternum.
He threw himself sideways on instinct. The spear tip grazed his shirt, punching through the space his chest had been a heartbeat ago.
What am I doing?
This was Jeanne d'Arc. The Maid of Orléans. The woman who'd turned the tide of the Hundred Years' War, led armies at seventeen, broke sieges alongside armored knights, and only stopped fighting when they chained her to a stake.
And he'd just said won't waste too much of your time.
"Scorch."
The fireball erupted at zero chant. Jeanne planted her spear and pivoted, letting the flame sear past her shoulder. Her braid whipped in the heat wash. She was already moving again.
Their spears met. The impact jolted through Leon's arms. He swung into a second exchange, a third. Each time, her weapon was already where it needed to be. She wasn't reacting to him. She was reading him, two or three moves ahead, steering him into positions he didn't realize were traps until the opening had already closed.
His eyes kept tracking her spear instead of her body. Every time her wrist twitched, his gaze snapped to the weapon.
She feinted high. He bit. Her spear reversed and cracked him across the ribs.
Arcane Ward and Demon Lord's Crest ate the worst of it, but the force still drove the air out of him. He staggered back two steps.
Jeanne stood there, spear on her shoulder. Not breathing hard.
Leon planted the butt of his spear in the ground and let go.
"I'm done."
Jeanne rested the spear on her shoulder. Something flickered in her eyes. Guilt, maybe. But the smirk tugging at her lips gave her away.
She was thinking about last night. The outfit. His eyes on her. The way he'd made her parade around the living room until her face was on fire.
"'Won't waste too much of your time,' hm?" She folded her arms. "With skills like that, I have to wonder how you've survived the Dungeon at all."
Leon's jaw tightened. "...I fight monsters. Not people."
"Clearly."
Self-taught, rough, full of habits he didn't know he had. His eyes chased the weapon instead of the fighter. One wrist feint was all it took to lead him wherever she wanted.
Jeanne let the satisfaction sit for a moment longer. Then she sighed, and the playfulness was gone.
"Leon, if you want to fight people, the bad habits go first." Her tone left no room for argument. "Sparring is on hold. Today, we start from the very basics. Stance work."
"A strong foundation is the only thing that lets you go far." She planted her spear beside his.
"We'll start with the wide stance." Jeanne moved to his side and demonstrated. "Feet apart, knees slightly bent, center of gravity low and stable." She explained the key points while stepping close, her face all business as she corrected the smallest deviations in his posture.
"Whether you're using a sword, a spear, or a staff, the most important thing in combat is keeping your center of gravity stable."
"Compared to the narrow stance, which prioritizes explosive power, the wide stance is better for building a beginner's foundation." As she spoke, Jeanne pressed close against Leon's back, her hands settling on his shoulder and the side of his waist to adjust his form.
Holy... so soft...
"Hold still!"
Smack.
"Ow!"
"..."