Sera left the dining hall first, muttering something about replacing her shattered staff before the equipment office closed. Damon watched her go, then pulled out his communicator.

Three unread messages from Lena waited for him.

Lena: Heard you went into D-7 alone.

Lena: Damon.

Lena: Damon...?

He typed back.

Damon: Dining hall. I have a feeling you want to yell at me. If you do, come yell at me in person.

Her reply landed before he could set the device down.

Lena: Stay there. Don’t move.

He finished his meal without hurrying. The recovery draught had done what it could; the sharp edge of pain was gone, leaving only a faint pull in his ribs and a tired heaviness in his bones. Sleep would have to come soon.

Lena reached the dining hall in under five minutes. She had to have been close, probably in the alchemy lab, because her fingers still bore the faint stains of recent work.

Her gaze swept the room once, found him in his corner seat, and fixed there.

She crossed the hall at a pace that made a few students edge out of her way.

"You," she said, dropping into the chair Sera had just vacated. "Explain. Now."

"Hello to you too."

"Don’t ’hello’ me. I’ve spent the last hour listening to rumors about you, and none of them sounded remotely safe."

"I made a friend."

Her expression flickered. "A friend?"

"Second-year mage. Helped with the alpha. Don’t mention that part to anyone." He hesitated. "It’s... complicated."

"When is it not complicated with you?"

"Fair."

Some of the initial heat went out of her as she really looked at him. Her eyes tracked the way he sat, just a bit too stiff on his left side, the shadows under his eyes, the way his shoulders carried the day.

"You’re hurt."

"I already had a recovery draught."

"One of mine?"

"One of hers, actually. I still have some of yours back in my room."

Lena’s jaw tightened, a small clench more felt than seen. "Hers?"

"The mage. Sera. She had a spare draught when I needed it. Apparently, she can brew her own."

"That’s... good, that she had one, I mean." Lena looked away, fingers tapping once against the table. "So you’ve been busy. New class, new stats, new friend. Anything else I should know about?"

Damon studied her. The words were casual; her posture wasn’t. Her shoulders sat a little too straight, her focus pinned a little too tightly to the empty tray between them.

"She’s not you," he said.

Lena’s head snapped back to him. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"It means she’s a combat partner. As for you, you’re the reason for all of this, directly or indirectly. There’s a difference."

Her expression wavered. For a heartbeat, it looked like she might bite back with something sharp. Then the tension eased out of her shoulders, and she let out a breath that was almost a laugh.

"When did you get good at reading people?"

"I’ve always been good at reading people," he said. "I just never had anything worth saying before."

She shook her head, but the tightness around her eyes had softened. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a small glass vial. Pale green liquid sloshed inside, faintly luminous.

"Here’s a new batch. D-rank this time. I’ve been experimenting."

Damon took the vial and turned it between his fingers. "You’re brewing D-rank now?"

"I’m not just a pretty face who worries about you," she said, folding her arms. "I’ve been improving. The F-rank batches sold well, so I reinvested in better ingredients. These should work about twice as well as the old ones."

"D-rank recovery draughts go for two hundred credits at the store."

"Then you’re getting a very good deal." She named a price, still comfortably under market.

He slipped the vial into his pocket with care. "How many do you have?"

"Six so far. More by the end of the week. Why?"

"Because I’m going to need them." He met her eyes. "I’ve got solo authorization now. I’ll be running portals alone, and sometimes with Sera. The F-rank potions helped, but D-rank will actually move the needle."

"Alone," Lena repeated, her voice flattening. "Of course you will."

"It’s what I’ve been working toward."

"I know." Her hands pressed flat against the table. "I know it is. I just... I spent three days watching you lie in a hospital bed, Damon. I’m not in a rush to relive that."

"You won’t have to."

"You can’t promise that."

"No," he said quietly. "I can’t. But I can promise I’m not the same person who almost died in that corridor. I’m stronger now. I’ve got a class that actually works. I’ve got a partner to watch my back. And I’ve got you, making sure I don’t run out of potions."

Lena was silent for a long moment. Then she reached across the table and punched him in the arm.

"Ow—"

"That’s for making me worry. Again." 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

"Fair."

"And this..." She slid a folded scrap of paper across the table. "Is the formula for the D-rank draughts. So you know what you’re shoving into your system."

Damon unfolded it. Neat, compact handwriting filled the page, each ingredient listed with measurements and preparation notes. Some names he recognized from first-year alchemy; others were new to him.

"You’re just giving me your formula?"

She stood, swinging her bag over one shoulder. "I trust you with it."

He folded the paper carefully and tucked it into his jacket. "Thank you. Really."

"Don’t thank me. Just don’t die, and don’t go off into danger without telling me, at least let me help prepare you before you head into portals."

She turned to leave.

He reached out on instinct, fingers closing around the sleeve of her uniform.

"Before you go..." His voice came out lower than he intended. "Why do you care so much about me? I mean, sure, I saved you. But you’ve paid that debt back three times over by now."

Lena stilled.

Her back stayed to him, her sleeve still caught between his fingers. The noise of the dining hall went on, forks on plates, laughter from a nearby table, the clatter of trays stacking up at the return, but none of it seemed to touch the little pocket of quiet they occupied.

"You really don’t know?" she asked.

"I’m asking, aren’t I?"

She eased her arm free, but didn’t walk away. Instead she turned back, meeting his gaze head-on. For once, there was no wall of sarcasm, no half-joking deflection. Just something open, unguarded, that she’d been hiding behind all the sharp comments and constant check-ins.

"I take back what I said. You’re not good at reading people after all." Lena let out a soft chuckle. "But don’t worry about it. You kept your secrets for a month. It’s only fair I get to keep one of my own. I’ll tell you when you’re ready."

"Lena."

"Don’t ’Lena’ me, Damon." She sighed, crossing her arms. "Besides, now’s not the time. Trust me, it’s nothing urgent."

Damon wasn’t stupid. He had an inkling of what Lena might actually feel, but he wasn’t about to act on it. For one, she was right about the timing. He was too focused on getting stronger to entertain anything close to romance.

And for another? He wasn’t even sure his hunch was correct. The last thing he needed was to misinterpret simple friendship and ruin the best thing he had going. So he let it go.

"Fine. I’ll drop it." He paused. "But I will take you up on the other offer."

"Which one?"

"Letting you prep me for every portal run."

Lena’s expression softened. "That’s enough for me."