Is It Wrong to Want Luxury in a Dungeon? [11]

A Mage’s Worries

The hallway outside the infirmary was quiet.

Too quiet.

Lefiya hesitated, fingers curled against the fabric of her robe. The scent of blood and herbs hung thick in the air, mingling with the sharp, medicinal tang of potions—freshly uncorked, hastily applied. A sickly-sweet scent that never quite masked the underlying copper of spilled life.

She had seen injuries before. She had seen Familia members return from expeditions, bloodied, battered, bruised.

But this was different.

Because Calista hadn’t been found in the Dungeon.

She had walked back.

She had staggered through the streets of Orario, suffering from Mind Zero, strength bleeding out with every step.

She had reached Twilight Manor’s gates, barely conscious, her body swaying like a leaf caught in the wind. The guards had moved to stop her—one of them shouting her name, stepping forward to catch her—

And yet, somehow, she had still smiled.

A weak, faintly amused curve of the lips.

"War Shadows," she had rasped.

A breath.

"Thought they’d be worse."

And then, at last, she had collapsed.

The guards barely caught her before she hit the stone.

Lefiya swallowed, stepping closer to the door, peeking inside.

The infirmary was dim, candlelight flickering against the walls, shadows stretching long and thin across the floor.

And in the center of it all, lying motionless on the cot, was Calista.

Her skin was pale, almost waxen, a stark contrast against the mess of red hair clinging to her damp forehead. Her arms were wrapped in fresh bandages, white linen already tinged pink where deep gashes had struggled to close. A long strip of cloth wound tight across her ribs, securing where her armor had been cut away, replaced by the remnants of wounds that had only just stopped bleeding.

They had poured as many high potions as they could into her.

And still, she looked like she had barely clung to life.

The air in the room was heavy.

Lefiya wasn’t alone.

The others were here.

Riveria stood near the bedside, arms crossed. Her posture was rigid, unreadable—but Lefiya could see the tension in her fingers, the way her nails pressed into the fabric of her sleeves.

Finn sat near the foot of the bed, silent. His expression was carefully neutral, but his sharp blue gaze traced every detail of Calista’s injuries, analyzing, calculating.

Gareth sighed, rubbing a hand over his beard.

Tiona and Tione stood a few steps away, uncharacteristically quiet. Tiona, always the first to joke, the first to break tension, had nothing to say.

Bete scoffed. “Tch. Stupid.”

But the insult lacked its usual bite.

Ais stood in the corner, watching.

She hadn’t spoken a word.

And Loki—

Loki stood with her hands in her pockets, expression unreadable.

She had caught every word the moment Calista had arrived.

She just hadn’t said anything.

Not yet.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until finally, Loki exhaled.

“…Hah.”

She shook her head, rubbing her temple. “You crazy little shit.”

Tiona let out a slow breath. “At least she made it back.”

Bete scoffed again. “Barely.”

Riveria’s gaze flicked up, sharp. “She shouldn’t have been out there at all.”

Loki waved a hand lazily. “C’mon, Riv. Ya know how this goes.”

Riveria’s jaw tightened. “She fought a War Shadow.”

The words cut through the room like a knife.

Silence.

Bete let out a sharp scoff, shaking his head. “Just asking to get herself killed.”

But no one looked at him.

Because Riveria wasn’t finished.

“She didn’t just fight one,” she continued, voice low, controlled, but brimming with frustration. “From what little she managed to say before collapsing—she faced more than one.”

Lefiya’s stomach twisted.

War Shadows. Plural.

It was almost impossible for a rookie adventurer to survive one War Shadow alone. They were called rookie killers for a reason.

And Calista had fought multiple.

Loki shrugged. “Yeah, well. She made it back, didn’t she?”

Riveria’s fingers curled. “She only barely survived.”

A tense silence settled between them.

Lefiya felt the shift in the room.

Tiona bit her lip, glancing toward Tione.

Gareth sighed through his nose, a quiet exhale that spoke volumes.

Even Bete wasn’t running his mouth anymore.

Because they all knew—Calista shouldn’t have walked away from that.

Ais’s golden gaze lingered on the unconscious girl in the bed, unreadable.

“She was lucky,” Riveria said, measured but firm. “Too lucky.”

Finn, who had remained silent until now, leaned forward, finally speaking.

“She didn’t just survive on luck.”

He met Riveria’s gaze, calm, level.

“She must have used something.”

Riveria exhaled sharply. “You think she has a skill.”

Finn nodded. “That’s the only explanation.”

Lefiya’s breath caught.

That’s why she suffered Mind Zero.

A normal Level 1 adventurer—even one as fast as Calista—wouldn’t have been able to fight off multiple War Shadows and live to talk about it.

But if she had used a skill—something strong, something that pushed her beyond her limits—then that would explain why she was suffering severe magical exhaustion, even without casting a spell.

It was the only thing that made sense.

“She doesn’t know she has it,” Riveria murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

Finn tilted his head slightly. “Seems that way.”

Ais’s eyes flickered toward Calista again.

The room was quiet for a long moment.

Then Loki let out a sharp breath, smirking to herself. “Hah. Ain’t that somethin’?”

She shook her head, stretching her arms behind her head. “Well, kid’s full of surprises, huh?”

Riveria turned toward her, eyes cold.

“If she had known—” She stopped herself, lips pressing together, then exhaled sharply through her nose. “If you didn’t—” Another pause. A sharp inhale. A clenched jaw.

Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and walked out.

Lefiya watched her go.

She had never seen Riveria lose her composure like that before.

Loki’s smirk twitched.

A beat of silence.

Lefiya stood frozen in the hallway.

Finn sighed, standing up. He didn’t speak right away, just glanced toward the unconscious girl in the bed before shaking his head.

“This won’t happen again,” he said simply.

Tiona finally stirred. “She’s… gonna be okay, though, right?”

Gareth let out a heavy breath. “Aye. She’s stubborn enough.”

Bete scoffed and left without another word.

One by one, the others followed.

Ais lingered the longest. She didn’t move, didn’t speak—just watched Calista for another long moment before finally, silently, stepping out.

Until only Loki remained.

The goddess didn’t leave right away.

She stayed there, hands still in her pockets, watching.

She studied the bandages, the mess of red hair, the steady rise and fall of Calista’s breath.

Then she sighed, stretching her arms over her head, and turned toward the door.

She was the last to leave.

The silence stretched in the empty room.

Lefiya pushed the door open.

She stepped inside.

Slowly, carefully, she moved toward the bed and lowered herself into the chair beside it.

For a long moment, she just sat there, staring at the girl who had frustrated her beyond belief.

Calista, who never backed down from anything.

Calista, who smirked at death itself.

Calista, who lay still, her body covered in wounds that should have killed her.

Lefiya exhaled softly.

Then, without thinking, she reached forward and placed a hand over Calista’s.

She was still warm.

Her fingers twitched slightly, barely a movement.

Then nothing.

Lefiya closed her eyes.

And somewhere between the stillness of the infirmary and the weight pressing on her chest—

A memory surfaced.

---

The Dungeon’s third floor was as unimpressive as the first two.

Calista twirled her spear once, rolling her shoulders. “So, when do the real monsters show up?”

Raul sighed, shoulders slumping. “We just got here.”

“And?”

“And you’re still learning how to fight without getting yourself killed,” he grumbled, shifting his bag. “Don’t get cocky.”

Lefiya held back a groan.

It wasn’t that Calista was flawless—she still made inexperienced mistakes, left herself open too often, and sometimes relied too much on dodging instead of finishing her enemies.

But she never hesitated.

Even when she messed up, even when she swung too wide or tripped over uneven stone—she always moved forward like she belonged there.

Lefiya hated how easy she made it look.

“You at least know what you’re fighting, right?” Raul asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Calista hummed. “Goblins. Kobolds. Easy pickings.”

Raul let out a long breath. “Goblins are weak. They’re slow, predictable. Aim for the throat or the heart.”

Calista tilted her head. “Violent.”

“That’s literally how we stay alive.”

She smirked, but didn’t argue.

“Kobolds are different,” Raul continued. “Stronger, faster, and their sense of smell is annoyingly good. You want to hit them behind the ribs or go for the neck. Their bones are thicker than goblins’, so don’t try to brute-force it.”

Calista gave her spear an experimental swing. “So, stab carefully. Got it.”

Raul groaned. “Why do I feel like you’re not taking this seriously?”

Calista grinned. “Because I’m not.”

Lefiya clenched her teeth.

...

The goblin corpse was still warm when Raul crouched down, pulling a knife from his belt.

“Alright,” he muttered. “Since you’re so excited about killing things, now you get to learn the boring part.”

He grabbed the monster’s head, tilting it to the side. “Magic stones. You carve ‘em out before the body disappears.”

Calista frowned. “I’ll pass.”

Raul blinked. “What?”

She gestured vaguely at the corpse. “Not doing that. You do it.”

Raul scowled. “That’s not how this works.”

Calista tilted her head. “Would five valis change your mind?”

Raul’s eye twitched.

Lefiya stared at her, appalled. “You—you can’t just pay someone to do it for you!”

Calista raised a brow. “Why not?”

“Because it’s—it’s basic adventuring!”

“Yes,” Calista said slowly, “but so is delegation.”

Raul dragged a hand down his face.

“Oh my gods,” he muttered.

Lefiya huffed. “She has to learn eventually, right?”

Raul shot her a look. “I don’t know. At this rate, she might just hire someone to follow her around and do it for her.”

Calista snapped her fingers. “Ooh. That’s an idea.”

Raul groaned.

But before she could keep pushing his sanity to the limit, his expression turned serious.

“Look,” he said, tone dropping. “Jokes aside, don’t leave magic stones lying around. Got it?”

Calista quirked a brow. “Why?”

Raul sighed. “Because if a monster eats another’s magic stone, it strengthens them.”

Lefiya frowned. “That actually happens?”

“Rarely. But when it does, it’s a nightmare.” Raul tapped the goblin’s chest with the hilt of his knife. “Even weak monsters—like goblins—can become way more dangerous just by eating one.”

Calista hummed, looking more interested now than when he explained magic stones in the first place.

Raul squinted at her suspiciously.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he warned.

Calista smirked. “Too late.”

Raul sighed. “That wasn’t an invitation.”

Lefiya pinched the bridge of her nose. “Please don’t do anything stupid.”

Calista flashed her a teeth-baring grin. “I make zero promises.”

...

The sack of coins landed on the counter with a satisfying clink.

Calista lifted it with both hands, eyes practically shining as she weighed it. “I like this adventuring thing.”

Raul groaned. “It’s not just about money.”

Calista scoffed. “Of course it is. I get kobold blood on me, and now I get paid. That’s exactly how this works.”

Lefiya rolled her eyes.

They stepped outside the Guild, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow over the busy streets.

Calista hummed, weighing the pouch in her palm.

“So,” she mused, “what should I buy first?”

Lefiya groaned.

Raul looked like he was physically restraining himself from giving a lecture.

He sighed, stretching his arms out. “Alright, I gotta get going.”

Calista raised a brow. “Leaving us unsupervised? That’s bold.”

Raul gave her a tired look. “I have other things to do, you know.”

Lefiya folded her arms. “Like what?”

“Checking in with the other newbies, running reports, not losing my mind babysitting you two—take your pick.”

Calista grinned. “You say that like it hasn’t been a pleasure.”

Raul didn’t even dignify that with a response.

Instead, he rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at Lefiya. “Just—make sure she doesn’t do anything too ridiculous, alright?”

Lefiya blinked. “Why me?”

Raul sighed, already turning to leave. “Because you’re not the one who tried to bribe me five valis to carve out a magic stone.”

Calista snorted. “That was a fair offer.”

Raul waved over his shoulder. “See you both tomorrow. Try not to burn Orario down.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Calista exhaled dramatically, stretching her arms toward the sky. “Finally.”

Lefiya frowned. “Finally what?”

Calista spun on her heel, grinning. “We’re going shopping.”

Lefiya blinked.

“…What?”

Calista gestured at herself. “Look at me, Lefiya. Look at me.”

Lefiya did, but she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to be seeing.

“You’re wearing armor and functional clothing,” she said flatly. “Like every other adventurer.”

Calista looked horrified. “Functional? Darling, no. I’ve been walking around in borrowed clothes and half-fixed tatters for days.”

Lefiya frowned. “You’ve been fine.”

Calista gasped. “Lefiya. Sweet Lefiya. Have you ever had to reuse an outfit for a full week?”

“…Yes?”

Calista clutched her chest like she had been physically wounded.

“Tragic,” she murmured. “Absolutely tragic.”

Lefiya was already regretting everything.

Calista grabbed her wrist. “Come on, we have so much to fix.”

...

The tailor was trying their best.

Really, they were.

But negotiating with Calista Aldebrand was a nightmare.

“This is cheap noble fashion,” she said, holding up a fabric swatch like it personally offended her. “I want actual noble fashion.”

The tailor blinked. “I—”

“I am not walking around Orario looking like some low-tier merchant’s cousin.”

Lefiya rubbed her temples. “Calista—”

Calista turned sharply to the tailor. “You understand, don’t you?”

The poor man looked like he was being held hostage. “I… we do have higher-end materials, but they’re—”

“Perfect! Show me everything.”

Lefiya wanted to die.

She was not built for this.

For nearly an hour, she was subjected to fabric debates, endless swatches, and Calista critiquing every possible option with expert precision.

The tailor, to his credit, quickly realized that upselling Calista was impossible.

She wasn’t just buying expensive things to flaunt wealth—she actually understood quality.

Which made her worse.

At some point, Lefiya found herself holding bags.

Many bags.

Too many bags.

By the time Calista was satisfied, she had a full wardrobe ordered, with her original outfit being restored as a custom commission.

Lefiya stared at her in disbelief.

“…How much was all that?”

Calista waved a hand. “Irrelevant.”

Lefiya’s eye twitched.

Calista stopped walking so suddenly that Lefiya almost ran into her.

Lefiya blinked. “What—”

“We’re not done.”

Lefiya felt actual fear.

Calista turned slowly, dark blue eyes glinting. “Lefiya.”

Lefiya swallowed. “Y-yes?”

“…How do you live like this?”

“…Like what?”

Calista spread her arms. “Like this.”

“…Orario?”

Calista sighed, rubbing her forehead. “No, no, Twilight Manor. The beds, the sheets, the—” She made a vague, deeply unimpressed gesture. “It’s all awful.”

Lefiya tilted her head. “It’s fine.”

Calista looked betrayed. “Fine? Lefiya, I have slept on stone floors that were softer than that mattress.”

Lefiya frowned. “It’s not that bad.”

“It is.”

Lefiya sighed. “Okay. What do you plan to do about it?”

Calista turned sharply, grinning. “Fix it, obviously.”

Lefiya barely had time to react before she was dragged off.

...

The shop owner had never seen two adventurers argue about pillows for so long.

“I am not sleeping on straw-filled garbage for the rest of my life,” Calista declared.

“These are perfectly good pillows,” the shopkeeper insisted.

Calista looked them dead in the eye. “Have you slept on them?”

The man hesitated.

“Exactly.”

Lefiya sighed, holding yet another bag.

“Just pick something.”

Calista dramatically ran her hand along a display of silk sheets.

“Lefiya, darling, luxury takes time.”

“You’ve been here two hours.”

Calista turned slowly, eyes dead serious.

“…Are you rushing me?”

Lefiya stared at her, unamused.

Calista sighed. “Fine. I’ll be quick.”

Twenty minutes later, Lefiya was carrying more bags.

Calista looked smug.

Lefiya felt pain.

...

“Haaah… again?”

Lefiya sighed, wiping sweat from her brow as she gripped her staff.

They had just returned from the Dungeon. Her legs ached, her arms felt heavy, and her mind was already halfway to bed.

But instead—

Instead, she was back in the courtyard.

And across from her, spinning a spear like this was the most fun she’d had all day, stood Calista.

That familiar, infuriating smirk was already in place.

“Training,” she said simply, rolling her shoulders.

Lefiya groaned. “We just spent all day in the dungeon.”

Calista twirled her spear lazily. “And yet, you hesitated again in that last battle.”

Lefiya stiffened.

A beat of silence.

Calista noticed.

Her smirk widened.

“C’mon, Lefiya, darling. Show me your cute little magic up close.”

Lefiya’s eye twitched.

“…Don’t call it that.”

Calista tapped her chin, as if thinking. “Would you prefer adorable, tiny magic?”

“…Shut up.”

Calista laughed.

Lefiya exhaled, shifting into stance.

She was going to wipe that smirk off her face.

...

It’s random.

That was what Lefiya had assumed, at first.

Calista sparred with her every day, dragging her out after Dungeon runs, challenging her without fail.

At first, Lefiya thought she was just being annoying.

But after a few matches, after dodge after dodge, taunt after taunt—

She realized something.

She’s forcing me to react.

“Too slow~,” Calista teased, side-stepping just as an [Arcs Ray] streaked past her.

Lefiya grit her teeth.

Her spell had barely missed.

Not because she was bad at aiming. Not because Calista was faster.

But because Lefiya kept hesitating, always unsure of herself.

But Calista never let her stand still.

She never gave her time to hesitate.

Lefiya exhaled sharply, focusing her mind.

"[Arcs Ray]!"

The golden light flashed forward, aiming directly for Calista—

At the last second, Calista twisted, barely dodging.

Lefiya’s eyes narrowed.

"[Alio]!"

The spell detonated midair.

Calista stumbled backward, arms raised instinctively to shield herself from the burst of light.

Lefiya blinked.

Calista grinned.

“Finally.”

...

Lefiya wasn’t just more sure of herself now.

She was controlling the fight.

"[Fusillade Fallarica]!"

A firestorm rained down, bathing the field in waves of searing heat.

Calista dove to the side, barely dodging.

Lefiya was already casting again.

"[Arcs Ray]!"

A second spell shot forward.

Calista didn’t dodge in time.

The golden blast slammed into her chest, sending her skidding across the dirt with a strangled curse.

Lefiya panted, gripping her staff tightly.

She had—

She had won.

Calista groaned from the ground, rolling onto her back.

“Ugh… that hurt.”

Lefiya blinked. “I… won?”

Calista laughed breathlessly, rubbing her ribs.

“Yep.” She sat up, wincing. “That was a solid win.”

She looked up at Lefiya, grinning.

“Told you you could stop hesitating.”

Lefiya stared.

She—

She had dragged her out here every single day.

At first, Lefiya had thought she was just being annoying.

But now, standing over her, staff still warm from casting, she finally understood.

Calista had been pushing her.

Not to be stronger.

Not to be smarter.

But to believe in herself.

Lefiya exhaled slowly, adjusting her grip on her staff.

“…One more round?”

Calista blinked.

Then she grinned.

“…Oh, you’re on.”

---

The infirmary was quiet.

Lefiya sat beside the bed, watching the slow rise and fall of Calista’s chest.

She had always assumed Calista was just… annoying. Loud. Overbearing. The kind of person who did things for the sake of being a nuisance.

But now, after a full week of being dragged into fights, into arguments over outfits, into shopping sprees that lasted far too long—

She knew better.

Calista wasn’t reckless.

She was deliberate.

She had pushed Lefiya. Forced her to move, to fight, to trust herself, long before Lefiya had even realized it.

And now, here she was. Unconscious. Bandaged. Barely breathing.

She had walked out of Twilight Manor alone, thrown herself against enemies she shouldn’t have fought, and still came back alive.

Lefiya swallowed, her fingers curling against her robes.

She had been getting stronger this past week.

Calista had made sure of it.

So why had Calista…?

Her grip tightened.

Lefiya sat there, unmoving, as the past week replayed in her head.

And for the first time, she wished she had understood sooner.

She was interrupted by a soft knock.

Lefiya blinked, her fingers still curled in the fabric of her robe, as the infirmary door creaked open.

Raul stepped inside.

His expression was unreadable, but Lefiya knew what she was supposed to see.

She had known Raul for a little over a month now. He was always stressed, always anxious, always running around doing his best to keep up with everything that was expected of him.

But right now—

Right now, he just looked tired.

“…Hey,” he said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Lefiya exhaled. “Hey.”

His gaze flicked to the bed.

Calista hadn’t moved.

Raul’s shoulders tensed.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there, staring at the girl lying unconscious beneath layers of fresh bandages, the dim candlelight casting long shadows across the room.

“…I should have seen it coming,” he muttered.

Lefiya frowned. “You weren’t even there.”

Raul let out a short, breathy laugh.

“It doesn’t matter.”

His hands curled at his sides.

“I was supposed to be teaching her,” he continued, voice low. “If I had explained things better, if I had made sure she actually understood how dangerous it was—maybe…”

Maybe she wouldn’t have done this.

Maybe she wouldn’t have been carried back, barely breathing.

Maybe she wouldn’t be lying in that bed, looking like she had walked through death itself just to prove something.

Lefiya inhaled sharply, shaking her head. “She was always going to do something reckless.”

Raul flinched.

Lefiya clenched her fists in her lap.

Raul exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. “…Yeah.”

Lefiya looked at him then.

At the way his jaw was tight, at the way his shoulders were still rigid with guilt.

Raul always compared himself to Finn.

Always tried to be as reliable, always tried to be a leader, but never believed he was capable of it.

“…You’re blaming yourself,” she said.

Raul let out a breathy chuckle. “Aren’t you?”

Lefiya stiffened.

Because she was.

She had spent the last hour sitting in this room, reliving everything—the sparring, the Dungeon, all the stupid, infuriating moments where Calista had dragged her into something and Lefiya had just gone along with it.

And now, after all that, after all her stupid pushing—

“She was the one who went out alone,” she said, voice tight.

Raul sighed. “Yeah. But maybe she wouldn’t have if—”

He cut himself off.

Lefiya looked away.

A long silence stretched between them.

Then, finally—

“You’re a good teacher, Raul,” she muttered.

Raul scoffed. “Right.”

“You are,” she insisted. “She was learning. She got stronger because of you.”

Raul shook his head. “Then why did she—”

He stopped himself again, pressing his fingers against his forehead.

Lefiya understood.

Because she had been asking herself the same question.

She had been getting stronger this past week.

Calista had made sure of it.

So why had Calista gone alone?

What had she been trying to prove?

Raul let out a long breath, stepping closer before pulling out a chair and dropping into it.

For the first time since he entered, he actually looked at Lefiya.

“You really think that?” he asked.

Lefiya frowned. “Think what?”

“That I’m a good teacher.”

Lefiya hesitated.

Then she nodded.

Raul stared at her for a moment, then sighed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“…Thanks,” he muttered.

Lefiya said nothing.

Neither of them did.

The room was quiet again, save for the soft, steady sound of Calista’s breathing.

...

The steady scratch of a quill filled the quiet study. Stacks of tomes lined the walls, their worn spines catching the flickering candlelight.

Lefiya wasn’t focusing on the lesson.

Riveria noticed.

"You're distracted."

Lefiya exhaled sharply, fingers tightening against the pages of the open tome. "...It's about Calista."

Riveria set her quill down. She waited.

Lefiya hesitated, then said, "I saw you in the infirmary when she was first brought in. You were angry." She met Riveria’s gaze. "You were about to say something, but you cut yourself off. What was it?"

Riveria studied her for a long moment before finally sighing.

"If Loki had allowed me to explain how a Falna works to her properly, she wouldn’t have ended up in that state."

Lefiya frowned. "Explain it properly?"

"Calista hasn’t been updating her Falna."

Lefiya’s mind stalled.

"...What?"

"Her growth was purely natural improvement," Riveria said. "Her Falna has not been updated since she received it."

Lefiya sat frozen.

"But—why?" She shook her head. "That doesn’t make any sense!"

"Because she doesn’t know."

Lefiya’s stomach dropped.

"She doesn’t know?"

Riveria nodded.

"She’s been training, fighting, trying to improve—and all this time, she wasn't getting stronger? nothing was changing?"

"Yes."

Something clicked in Lefiya's mind.

Her hands curled into fists.

"Why didn’t anyone tell her?" Her voice wavered. "Why didn’t you tell her?"

"Because Loki forbade it."

Lefiya’s breath hitched.

"...Why."

"To teach her a lesson."

Lefiya clenched her teeth.

"What lesson?"

Riveria didn’t hesitate.

"The value of struggle."

Lefiya slammed her palms against the desk, rattling the ink bottle.

"That’s not why she went out on her own."

Riveria didn’t flinch. "Then tell me."

Lefiya took a deep breath, trying to force the frustration down.

"The only reason she did it—the only reason—was because she thought she wasn’t improving," she said, voice firm. "She was getting better. I saw it. She was learning, adapting. She improved faster than any beginner I’ve seen. And yet…"

Her fists clenched.

"She was frustrated. I could see it—when she thought no one was looking. After every loss in our sparring matches. Even though I’m Level 2, even though I should be winning, she couldn’t understand why I was improving while she didn't feel a single change."

Riveria remained silent.

"It’s not that she was reckless," Lefiya continued. "She wasn’t just throwing herself into danger for no reason. She wanted to prove to herself that she was getting stronger. That’s why she went alone."

Her voice wavered slightly.

"And now, she knows she wasn’t."

A heavy silence settled between them.

Riveria finally spoke. "You are correct."

Lefiya felt a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Then why?" she asked quietly. "Why let her struggle when she didn’t have to?"

Riveria closed her eyes for a moment.

"Because she learns quickly. Too quickly. It makes her believe she is always in control. But in truth, she has only been fighting on borrowed time."

Lefiya swallowed hard.

"Borrowed time…"

"Loki wanted her to understand what it meant to struggle without progress. To hit a wall, to feel weakness—to know that hard work does not always reward you immediately."

Lefiya gritted her teeth.

"But she almost died because of it."

"Yes."

Silence.

Riveria held her gaze.

"And now, she knows what she is."

She wasn’t different.

She wasn’t special.

Lefiya looked away.

It wasn’t right.

This wasn’t right.

...

The hallways of Twilight Manor were dimly lit, torches casting long shadows along the stone walls.

Lefiya hadn’t planned on stopping by the infirmary again tonight.

But her feet had carried her here anyway.

She pushed the door open quietly, careful not to disturb the silence.

Then she stopped.

Loki was inside.

She was lounging in a chair by Calista’s bedside, one leg draped over the other, sipping lazily from a flask.

Lefiya frowned. "...What are you doing here?"

Loki glanced over, her usual grin appearing. "Well, well. Didn’t think I’d get caught."

Lefiya stepped forward, crossing her arms. "You’re just sitting here."

"Yup."

"...Why?"

Loki tilted her head. "Why not?"

Lefiya’s hands clenched against her sleeves.

She hadn’t expected a real answer, but it still infuriated her.

She should have just left it alone.

But before she knew it, the words were already spilling out.

"You knew."

Loki raised a brow.

Lefiya’s voice trembled, but she didn’t stop.

"You knew she wasn’t getting stronger. You let her go into the Dungeon thinking she was improving when she wasn’t. You let her suffer—"

Loki took another sip. "Yup."

Lefiya’s breath hitched.

That easy, casual confirmation sent a sharp wave of anger through her chest.

"Why?!"

Loki leaned back, exhaling. "She needed to hit the wall."

Lefiya’s nails dug into her palms. "She almost died."

Loki shrugged.

"Yeah. But she didn’t."

Lefiya took a shaky breath.

Loki finally set the flask down, resting her arms behind her head.

"And now, she knows what she is."

She wasn’t different.

She wasn’t special.

Lefiya’s throat tightened.

That phrase again.

That stupid, meaningless phrase.

She didn’t understand Calista.

But more than that—

She didn’t understand Loki.

Not at all.

Loki stood, stretching.

"Well, I’ll leave ya to it," she mused. "Didn’t plan on gettin’ scolded tonight."

She strolled toward the door, pausing as she passed Lefiya.

"Don’t think too hard on it, kid," she said lightly. "She was always gonna break. That was the point."

Then, with a wave, she was gone.

Lefiya stood there, fists clenched at her sides.

She turned back to Calista, still unconscious, her breathing steady but weak.

Her chest ached with something she didn’t know how to name.

She pulled up a chair and sat down.

She didn’t know what she wanted to say.

So she said nothing.

And waited.

---

A/N: a lefiya pov oooh... and a lesson huh? im just wondering if Calista learned what they were putting down