The midday sun bathed the capital in gold, warming the cobblestone streets and casting long, soft-edged shadows beneath the trimmed awnings and ivy-wrapped balconies. The city moved at a leisurely rhythm—vendors calling gently from their stalls, a bard playing a mellow tune on a lyre near the fountain, the mingled scents of roasted almonds and sweet citrus drifting on the breeze.
In the midst of this symphony, stood a small café, its brick exterior adorned with colorful pots of budding flowers that spilled over, adding a touch of whimsy to the otherwise stoic façade. Nestled at the edge of the Mage's Quarter, the Lunar Veil Café was tucked between an herbologist's shop and a secondhand scroll vendor. Terra-cotta pots overflowed with cheerful blooms—lavender, nasturtium, and stargrass—that softened the clean lines of its old brick walls. A hand-lettered chalkboard out front promised moon-spiced scones and honeyed steam-milk.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee—mingled with the aroma of freshly baked pastries—filled the air at a denser rate as they approached, creating a tantalizing redolence that enticed the senses, a smell so familiar now it made Delphia's shoulders ease without thought.
Their steps matched in an easy cadence, the kind that didn't need coordination. Delphia tucked her hands into her sleeves against the breeze, while Zypher, as always, seemed impervious to the temperature. His coat billowed slightly with each stride, the silver fastenings catching the sun.
She hadn't planned for this to become routine—walking with him after their midday sessions, falling into conversation that drifted from spell structure to politics to the quirks of local cuisine—but the pattern had settled around them like soft fabric, comfortable and unspoken.
Delphia didn't know if this was intentional or not, but she found herself getting along quite well with Zypher during these lessons at the Magic Tower. Not only was he far more talented at magic than of anyone she's seen since arriving here, his conversation skills were top notch; From nuanced theory to the broad subjects of the current social landscape around the Kingdom, he was fluent in whatever was coming out of his mouth.
As their conversations grew longer and more frequent in-between lessons, Delphia found herself lingering at the Magic Tower… though she was fighting her emotions internally. She hadn't planned to feel drawn to him; At first, she had lingered out of politeness, curiosity. Now she found herself looking forward to the slow descent of afternoon light through the tower windows, the end of a practice set, the moment he'd say, "Shall we?" and they'd set off toward the café.
Delphia had grown quite used to his presence over the last week-and-a-half. These strolls between lessons at the Magic Tower had become a pleasant new routine, a quiet reprieve from the constant noise of High Society.
Zypher, as usual, walked with an air of controlled confidence. His silky black hair gleamed under the sunlight, and his maroon eyes remained as calm as he took in the sights, matching Delphia's walking pace comfortably.
As they approached the café, Delphia glanced over at him. "You seem lost in thought today," she commented lightly, breaking the comfortable silence.
Zypher raised an eyebrow but offered no immediate response.
Instead, he opened the door for her, and they entered the quaint establishment. Lunar Veil Café was quiet—as usual—with only a handful of patrons scattered across the room, mostly deep in their own conversations, readings, or personal projects. The soft clink of teacups and the scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air.
They settled into their usual spot along the back where the sun filtered in through the large windows, casting soft shadows on the table between them. A server appeared promptly, taking their orders—black coffee for Zypher, and an iced coffee for Delphia.
As they waited for their drinks, Zypher leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on her. "I find myself intrigued." He said.
Delphia raised an eyebrow, matching his composed demeanor. "By what, exactly?"
"You, Delphia." His response was simple, but the weight of it hung in the air between them. Zypher's maroon eyes locked onto hers, and for a brief moment, Delphia felt the intensity of his scrutiny.
She offered a faint smile, deflecting as she always did, "I'm sure I'm no more interesting than the other Nobles we interact with."
"Perhaps," he agreed, his tone nonchalant. "But your actions of late—your demeanor and thoughts—don't entirely match the Delphia Vosswell I vividly remember."
Her fingers tightened slightly around the napkin in her lap, but she kept her expression neutral. "People change; They have revelations and epiphanies, learning from them. Or perhaps, it's simply that you've never paid full attention as you didn't like me." She dismissed him, emphasizing the overarching point while maintaining eye contact, daring him to object.
"Perhaps," he relented, but the glint in his eyes suggested he didn't fully believe her. Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of their drinks. Delphia smiled then sighed as she grabbed her drink, savoring the familiar taste as she took a long sip.
Meanwhile, Zypher added some creamer to his and lifted his coffee to his lips, keeping his gaze fixed on her. There was a short pause before he spoke again, "It's difficult not to contemplate what may have triggered such a change in you. The Delphia I knew was much more impetuous and guided by emotions. However, you seem to have mastered the art of composure, almost uncharacteristically so."
Delphia let out a soft chuckle in agreement, her eyes drifting to the window where she saw a familiar couple strolling past across the way—Calista and Alaric. The sight of them together didn't surprise her. Over these last few weeks, as she and Zypher had their own strolls to this café, she noticed their public outings had become increasingly frequent. And with each one, Alaric's connection grew stronger. It was the novel playing out exactly as she had read it, though this time it felt orchestrated—contrived by Calista's careful maneuvering.
"It's called 'growing up,' Zypher," she said with a faint smile, her eyes returning to him. "We all have to learn how to survive in our own way."
"Survival?" His tone was curious, "Is that what you're aiming for?"
Delphia hesitated a moment. She realized too late this conversation was a game—one that Zypher was exceptionally skilled at. His probing questions, while seemingly innocent, were always laced with deeper intent. He was testing her, observing her responses, and she couldn't afford to slip.
"Survival is the only goal that matters," she said, her voice flippant. "In the end, it's all any of us can strive for, isn't it?"
Zypher tilted his head slightly, watching her. "I suppose that's true. But I wonder—what are you truly surviving? The expectations of your family? Or something else?"
Delphia held his gaze, her mind racing. She could feel him closing in, his questions growing more pointed, more focused.Did he suspect something? Of course he had—Zypher was much too perceptive to overlook such things. But did he realize exactly how deep those differences went?
She decided to throw the conversation back at him, "What about you, Zypher? You've changed too." She pointed out, and his eyes widened suddenly before he schooled himself with a small chuckle and look that was tinged with complacency.
"The cold, calculating, ruthless Mage I re-" She paused, catching herself, before quickly continuing, "remember seems... more observant now, more engaged with the world around him. What are you looking for? What changed with you?"
And, much like it has every time they've toed the line concerning their personalities, Zypher smiled a beautiful, disarming smile like his own personal weapon against her, saying, "I've always been observant, Delphia. You, of all people, should know that." The playful banter continued, each question and response laced with subtle meaning, each one testing the waters between them. Delphia knew Zypher was digging, trying to uncover something—perhaps even something he didn't yet fully understand himself.
But she wasn't ready to reveal anything. Not yet.
As their conversation flowed, the Café door opened once again, and Calista and Alaric walked in, hand in hand, their laughter filling the air around them. Delphia's eyes flickered toward them briefly, a small grimace forming, before returning to Zypher.
"It seems they've been spending quite a bit of time together," He remarked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp, flicking from the couple back to Delphia—catching the expression crossing her lips before it vanished. She gave a noncommittal shrug, "It's to be expected. After all, their story is practically written for them."
"And you're content to just... watch it unfold?"
She met his gaze, her expression impassive, "Why wouldn't I be? Some things can't be changed. Nor do I wantto."
Zypher's grin grew a little bigger, but there was a hint of something sinister in his gaze, "Maybe. Or maybe, with the right strategies, even the most inflexible stories can be altered." Delphia held her breath for a moment, wondering exactly how much he knew.
But before she could respond, their server returned, refilling their drinks.
Delphia took the opportunity to shift the conversation back to safer ground, engaging in light banter and keeping the mood casual. But even as they joked and quipped, the undercurrent of tension remained.
***
The following days passed in much the same way. Delphia spent more time at the Magic Tower, using the excuse of honing her magical abilities as a reason to avoid the academy's endless social games. But in truth, it was Zypher who kept drawing her back.
Their interactions became more frequent, each filled with a complex web of emotions.
Delphia and Zypher would leisurely stroll to the café with each other after their lessons, engaging in the same back-and-forth they seemed to enjoy. Each word was carefully chosen, each response carrying a hidden meaning as they tested the boundaries of trust between them. With every encounter, Delphia could feel the tension building, like a tightly coiled spring ready to snap.
But now, the tension felt…
Sexual.
Delphia was caught off guard, but she wasn't entirely against it. In fact, this felt like the most surreal moment for her since waking here. She never expected Zypher to like 'Delphia,' even less so after she woke up as her, so if this is directly because of her interactions with him, then she's confused.
He can't actually like me, could he? She found herself asking this question more and more.
It was during one of their outings to the café that Zypher leaned in close, his voice low as he called her thoughts to attention.
"I wonder, Delphia… what would happen if you let yourself get involved? If you stopped merely surviving and started playing the game?"
She walked through the door that he held open for her, and as she was scanning the interior, the sound of his voice by the shell of her ear startled her slightly. She wasn't sure when the space between them had gotten so small—or if she'd simply stopped noticing.
Delphia's breath caught in her throat, a brief hitch before she quickly composed herself with a soft chuckle to reply. "I believe we both understand the dangers of playing with fire, no?" It was rhetorical, but it proved a point. Zypher's laugh followed after a moment of consideration, low and unreadable.
They made their way toward their usual table nestled along the back wall. Zypher graciously pulled out Delphia's low-backed chair and tucked her in with quiet care, letting his fingers brush her shoulder a second longer than necessary as he helped her adjust her hair.
Something about the way he touched her wasn't just romantic—it was observant. Like he was trying to feel for seams in a mask.
His attention sent butterflies rampaging through her stomach, and she took a breath to steady herself as she adjusted her posture.
She settled into her seat just as a familiar server approached them with their usual order, recognizing them by face and expertly placing their drinks and dishes on the table.
"Maybe," he said, responding to her statement, flashing a disarming smile as he poured creamer into his drink. "Or maybe the real way to win is by fighting fire with fire."
He took a sip from his cup. His tone was light, but his eyes never left her.
Delphia could see a hint of amusement in Zypher's maroon eyes, but she could also feel the gravity behind his words. There was something assessing in his gaze—like he was watching to see how she would answer, not just what Delphia might say.
She smiled, taking a sip of her iced coffee. "And how exactly would one do that, Zypher?" She batted back at him, her eyes flirting over the rim of her drink.
His gaze lingered on her for a long moment before he finally leaned back in his chair, his smile seductive but enigmatic. "That, Delphia, is something you should already know."
He chuckled at the end—but it wasn't mocking. It was… curious.
Her smile twitched, but faltered around the edges. Right. That's something the original Delphia would know how to do. Her inner voice stung with clarity, but she didn't let it stop her.
"Yes," she said sweetly, "but can't I ask a question?"
She took another sip, a beat too long, and watched his expression shift ever so slightly.
Zypher tilted his head, watching her with a look that made her feel completely seen—and dangerously close to discovered. But not threatened. If anything, he looked intrigued. Like he was waiting to see how far she'd go before admitting something neither of them had said aloud.
"If I told you," he said softly, "it wouldn't be fun anymore."
A beat passed. Then he smiled again—smaller, slyer.
"But," he added, "since you asked so nicely, I'll give you a hint."
He leaned in just slightly, resting his elbows on the table. "First," he said, tapping his thumb once against the ceramic of his cup, "you get involved by choosing something. Something that's yours. Not Calista's. Not Alaric's. Yours."
Delphia blinked, surprised by the clarity in his tone—but before she could respond, he continued.
"And second…" His smile turned wolfish, almost fond. "You fight fire with fire by remembering that you're not nearly as breakable as they think."
He took a sip from his drink, eyes never leaving hers.
The silence that followed wasn't awkward—it felt charged, like a challenge had been laid gently between them.