"Because you'll still be clever in my mind."
Eastiel… knew her like that.
The look they shared was one of old, familiar combatants. He had been her sharpest critic and her most challenging ally during her sainthood, the one who dared to debate the system itself with her, brick by stubborn brick. It had failed, in the end. But the rhythm of their verbal sparring was a touchstone.
"How about you ask me something," Cecilia suggested. "Something you don't know, but only the real me could answer." She understood his lingering disbelief. Who would believe a woman with no heart who carried the scent of two apex predators even exist?
"Hmm," Eastiel hummed, closing his eyes in thought. After a long moment, he opened them. "Let me think… Ah."
He met her gaze.
"Why are you so bad at chess?"
"Oh, come on, that again!" Cecilia threw her hands up in exasperation.
Eastiel's smile didn't waver. "I'm not teasing you. I genuinely want to know."
