The festival's lively energy carried Ethan and Vivian to the brightly lit shooting stalls, where rows of targets lined up behind colorful booths. The air was filled with the sound of cheering festival-goers and the occasional pop of a target being hit. Plush animals of all shapes and sizes hung as prizes above the booths, swaying slightly in the evening breeze.
Ethan, as stoic as ever, studied the setup with quiet calculation. The sharp blue of his eyes narrowed as he inspected the air rifle handed to him.
"Simple mechanics," he murmured, his voice steady. "It's just a matter of aim and timing."
Vivian, standing beside him, adjusted the strap of her gown with an amused smile. "It's a festival game, Ethan. Don't make it a military exercise."
He turned to her, the faintest glint of humor in his gaze. "It's not about overthinking. It's about winning."
Vivian rolled her emerald green eyes, her auburn hair glinting under the lanterns. "Typical soldier. Fine, Commander. Show me how it's done."
Ethan stepped up to the line, his tall frame commanding the attention of those around him. His movements were deliberate, precise. With a calm pull of the trigger, the dart flew through the air, hitting the bullseye dead center.
The light above the target blinked, and the stall attendant handed him a plush fox, its soft fur catching the light.
Ethan accepted the plush silently, though a flicker of something unusual passed through him. He wasn't sure why, but knowing that Vivian would likely make fun of the prize—and secretly enjoy it—brought an unexpected lightness to his chest.
"Well done, sir!" the stall attendant said, clapping politely.
Ethan handed the air rifle to Vivian. "Your turn."
Vivian stepped forward, her emerald eyes narrowing in concentration. Her first shot veered wide, missing the target entirely. The attendant winced sympathetically, but before he could say anything, Vivian's jaw tightened. She exhaled slowly, steadying herself.
"Again," she said, her voice firm.
Ethan watched her with mild interest as she adjusted her grip, mimicking the precision she had seen in his earlier stance. This time, the dart struck the target squarely, earning her an oversized plush bear. Vivian grinned triumphantly, her earlier embarrassment melting away.
"See?" she said, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "Told you I could do it."
Ethan tilted his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Impressive."
Vivian shot him a sidelong glance. "That's all I get? Impressive? I just matched your shot."
"Do it twice more, and I'll upgrade to very impressive," Ethan replied evenly, his tone carrying the faintest hint of challenge.
Their playful competition escalated quickly. Dart after dart flew, their banter growing more animated with each shot.
Ethan remained calm, each bullseye met with the same quiet nod of satisfaction.
Vivian, however, cheered loudly with every successful hit, drawing amused glances from onlookers.
By the end of the round, the stall attendant looked both impressed and overwhelmed as he handed over a pile of plush prizes.
"Well," Vivian said, balancing an oversized dragon plush on her hip, "I think we've sufficiently cleaned this place out."
Ethan adjusted the fox and bear plushes in his arms, his expression as calm as ever. "We make a good team."
Vivian raised an eyebrow, her emerald eyes glinting. "Was that… a compliment?"
Ethan met her gaze, his blue eyes steady. "It's an observation."
Vivian snorted, shaking her head. "You're impossible."
"And you're competitive," Ethan replied, his tone carrying the faintest hint of amusement. "I'd say we're even."
As they walked away from the stall, Ethan found his gaze drifting to Vivian.
She carried the oversized dragon plush like a victory banner, her auburn hair swaying with an unintentional grace. A rare warmth settled in his chest, one that took him by surprise.
She had genuinely liked the dragon—the kind of delight that felt unforced, genuine.
And for reasons he couldn't quite put into words, that pleased him. Perhaps it was the shared simplicity of the moment, the fleeting joy amidst the teasing and banter. He convinced himself it wasn't because he had won it for her.
Facing his own feelings had always been far harder than facing any battlefield.
Vivian, meanwhile, found her thoughts straying toward Ethan. She stole glances out of the corner of her eye, noting his tall frame and the steady precision in his movements. She'd long respected those qualities on the battlefield.
But here, under the soft glow of the festival lights, there was something else—a quiet charm she had never quite noticed before. The lanky and hardworking boy from her childhood, the academy companion who had once shared her ambitions, had grown into a man she struggled to reconcile with her memories.
It unsettled her. Ethan von Shelb—a man she had sparred with countless times, a man who had once seemed an open book to her—felt unfamiliar in a way that stirred her.
She had once known him better than anyone, perhaps even better than his twin. She knew his secrets, his insecurities, and even the words he had whispered on drunken nights—words he would never remember in the sober light of day.
All his life, Ethan had the peculiar habit of forgetting everything he said and did when drunk.
And so, the confessions, the soft-spoken truths, and the unguarded glimpses of his heart—all were lost to him, but never to her.
She wondered how long she could keep pretending to be oblivious, to feign ignorance of the weight he carried and the words he had left unclaimed.
Her thoughts must have shown on her face, for Ethan's voice broke through them. "What's on your mind?" he asked, his tone calm but curious.
Vivian smirked, masking her inner turmoil with practiced ease. "Just thinking how shocking it is that you have a playful side," she quipped, her tone light and teasing.
Ethan arched a brow, unfazed. "And you enjoy plush dragons."
Vivian flushed faintly but held her ground. "Dragons are noble creatures. It's not my fault you have no taste."
His lips twitched into what might have been a smile. "I suppose it suits you."
Caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone, Vivian blinked. For a moment, words eluded her. "You're lucky I like dragons," she muttered, quickening her pace to disguise her flustered state.
Ethan followed, his expression calm but his thoughts anything but. For the first time, he found himself enjoying their banter not as a soldier sparring with an equal, but as something… more. The realization intrigued him as much as it unsettled him.
The festival lights sparkled around them, casting their glow over the bustling crowd. Arms laden with plush toys, the pair moved together in unspoken accord. Yet, in the quiet recesses of their minds, reflections brewed—gentle, hesitant, and undeniably real—adding a depth to the lively night neither had anticipated.