Oliver pushed open the guild's doors and stepped outside—only to find someone standing directly in his path.

He blinked.

A woman was waiting for him.

She was about his age, maybe a year older—tall, graceful, and impossible to ignore. Her long auburn hair spilled over her shoulders, gleaming in the morning light. A form-fitting mage's robe hugged her body in all the right places, deep blue with silver trimming that marked her as someone educated—probably from a high-ranking academy. Her violet eyes caught his, sharp but gentle, and there was something… familiar about them.

Oliver, still half-dazed from the long morning, rubbed his eyes. "Uh… can I help you?"

Instead of answering, she stepped sideways—blocking his path again.

He frowned slightly. "You, uh… planning to stand there all day?"

Her lips curved into a playful smirk. "You really don't recognize me?"

Oliver tilted his head. "Should I?"

The girl crossed her arms, feigning offense. "I'm the mage you saved in the goblin den."

Oliver stared for a moment, blank. Then realization hit.

"Wait—you're that mage?"

She nodded, her smile widening. "The very same."

"Gods," Oliver muttered, scanning her from head to toe, "you look way different now. Back then you were—uh—"

"Uh?" she prompted, raising a brow.

"Well, for starters," Oliver began with a grin, "your face back then had tear marks all over, your nose was runny, and you were screa—"

Before he could finish, her palm clamped over his mouth. "Stop right there! You don't need to give a detailed report!" she said, cheeks turning crimson.

"Mmph—mmpf—fine, fine," Oliver mumbled, pulling her hand away, chuckling awkwardly. "Sorry. Didn't mean to bring back bad memories."

Her face softened a little, and she let out a quiet laugh. "It's fine. Honestly… I'm just glad to see you again. I never got to thank you properly."

Oliver waved dismissively. "No need for that. You did your part too. If it wasn't for your healing and stamina buffs, I'd have been a corpse before I even reached the hobgoblin."

"That's generous of you," she said, shaking her head. "But you could've just run and come back with reinforcements. Instead, you jumped in alone. That's not something most people would've done."

Before Oliver could respond, she bowed—deeply, at a perfect ninety degrees.

The street went quiet. A few adventurers passing by stopped to stare.

"Hey—hey, stand up already!" Oliver hissed, flustered, glancing around. "People are watching!"

She straightened up immediately, face burning red. "S-sorry! I didn't mean to make it awkward."

Oliver exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, mission accomplished. You successfully made it awkward."

That earned him a small laugh from her, soft and genuine. "Fair enough."

After a brief pause, she smiled again. "I didn't even get your name back then."

"Oliver," he said, extending a hand. "Oliver Shaw."

She shook it lightly. "Ariana Vale. Former mage of the Blue Spire Academy."

Oliver blinked. "The Blue Spire? You are student of royal academy for mages, isn't it?"

"Was," she corrected with a half-shrug. "I left last year. Decided to learn by experience instead of books."

Oliver grinned. "You know, I can respect that. Real world's the best teacher there is."

"Exactly." She smiled—warm, confident, with just a hint of mischief. "And speaking of learning… I'd say I owe you a lesson's worth of gratitude. How about I buy you lunch?"

"Lunch?" Oliver blinked, caught off guard. "Uh, that's… not necessary."

"Come on," she said, tilting her head playfully. "Unless the hero who slayed a goblin tribe is too shy to eat with a woman?"

Oliver groaned. "You sound exactly like Isolde."

"Isolde?" Ariana asked, curious.

He coughed. "...My teacher. Long story."

Her grin widened. "Then I'd love to hear it. Over lunch."

Oliver stared at her for a moment, realizing there was no winning this. "You don't take no for an answer, do you?"

"Not when I owe someone my life."

He sighed in defeat but smiled anyway. "Fine, fine. You win. Lead the way."

Ariana's eyes sparkled as she turned toward the main street. "You'll like the place. They make great honey-roast quail."

Oliver followed beside her, shaking his head with a faint smirk. "Great. Just what I needed—another woman who decides my plans for me."

Her laughter was light and melodic as they disappeared into the bustling avenue, leaving a trail of curious gazes behind them—especially from Lena, who peeked through the guild window with a knowing grin.

~~~~

They sat across from each other in a quiet corner of a small tavern — the kind where sunlight streamed in through latticed windows and the smell of roasting meat and baked bread filled the air.

Ariana had insisted on the place, and to Oliver's surprise, it was cozy — not too fancy, not too cheap. Just right.

The waitress arrived with steaming plates — roasted quail, soft bread, and honeyed ale. The moment she left, the awkwardness began to ease. They ate in silence for a few bites before Oliver broke it.

"So…" he began, swirling his ale, "what now? You planning to go back to adventuring after what happened?"

"I will," Ariana said, setting down her fork. "Not immediately — I need some time to recover, but I can't give it up."

"What's with that long face?" Oliver said seeing her expression, "Let's not talk about adventuring anymore."

"What do you want to talk about then?"

"Hmm? Let's see… Why don't you tell me about Blue Spire Academy. What's it like?"

At that, her expression softened — part nostalgia, part weariness. "Yeah… Blue Spire Magic Academy. It's the biggest in the kingdom. Every noble family worth its name sends their children there. The place is basically a city of mages. Lecture halls, spell towers, entire libraries full of grimoires."

"Sounds like paradise for anyone who loves magic," Oliver said, slicing into his meal.

"It is. If you're a noble." She smiled faintly, but there was a shadow behind it. "Commoners like me get in through scholarship programs — rare, and never easy. You're expected to perform perfectly, keep your head down, and never, ever offend the wrong person."

Oliver raised a brow. "Sounds more like a political minefield than a school."

"That's an accurate description," Ariana said dryly. "The professors pretend it's all about talent, but power and connections talk louder than any spell."

He studied her for a moment. "And yet, you still made it in. You must've been good."

"I was," she said simply, no arrogance in her tone — just fact. "I worked hard, top of my class for a while." Then her eyes dimmed. "Until I wasn't."

Oliver tilted his head. "What happened?"

She hesitated, her fork stalling midair. "You really want to know?"

"I asked, didn't I?"

A soft sigh escaped her lips. "I was bullied. Constantly. A bunch of noble brats who couldn't stand a commoner doing better than them. I ignored it at first. But one day, one of them went too far — insulted my mother. I snapped."

Her eyes drifted down. "I hit him with a surge spell. Broke his arm. Burned half his face. Turned out he was the son of a Count."

Oliver grimaced. "Let me guess. The Count wasn't exactly understanding."

"Understanding?" She gave a humorless laugh. "He wanted me executed. The Academy decided to make an example instead. Expelled me within the week. I lost my scholarship, my home, everything."

The warmth in the air cooled. Oliver leaned back in his chair, silent for a moment before saying quietly, "That's rough."

Ariana gave a small shrug, forcing a smile. "That's the way it goes. Nobles get away with anything; the rest of us get tossed out for defending ourselves."

Oliver leaned back, exhaling slowly. "So that whole 'real world teaches you better than books' thing you said earlier—"

Ariana groaned softly, pressing a hand to her forehead. "Well, its sound more dignified than being expelled."

Oliver laughed lightly, and the tension eased, "Well," Oliver said after a pause, "you weren't wrong when you said experience outside the academy teaches more."

"Not your best moment," Oliver said with a grin. "Still, you're here, alive, and apparently strong enough to heal me in the middle of a goblin den. Not many can say that."

She smiled faintly, but there was a dry humor in her tone. "Oh yes, the picture of success — a dropout adventurer who almost got turned into monster bait."

"That's not funny," Oliver said, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Maybe not," Ariana said softly, stirring her drink. "But sometimes you have to laugh at your own mess, or it'll swallow you whole."

Oliver studied her for a while. Her poise, her intelligence — it all clashed with the bitterness in her words. She was the kind of person who'd been burned by the world, yet still smiled through the ashes.

The silence that followed wasn't awkward — it was oddly comfortable. The kind that settles between two people who'd seen enough chaos to appreciate a bit of calm.

The waitress came by again, dropping off their drinks. Ariana thanked her politely, then leaned back with a sigh.

Their earlier conversation hung between them, lingering like the last note of a song.

Ariana finally exhaled, breaking the silence. "You know," she said, stirring the drink in her glass, "talking about all that almost made me forget how miserable I was at the Academy."

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