"You're late," Juliet said, arms folded across a navy blazer, her boot tapping lightly against the café steps.
Frank adjusted his collar with one hand and held up the other like he was negotiating for mercy. "I'm only late if you consider time a fixed construct."
Juliet raised an eyebrow. "Don't try philosophy on me. You're five minutes late. That's two minutes more than fashionable and three minutes shy of rude."
Frank blinked. "You rehearsed that."
"I did," she said, deadpan. "While waiting. Alone."
He gestured dramatically. "Then let me make it up to you—with overpriced herbal blends and awkward social interaction."
A smile finally tugged at her lips. "Lead the way, Merchant."
They stepped inside Teacraze, a cozy rooftop café overlooking one of the quieter towers in Nexus District 3. Warm wood panels, tiny hexagon lights, and an actual real-leaf vine wall wrapped around the glass dome above.
Frank looked around. "This place has way more atmosphere than I deserve."
Juliet smirked. "It was either this or a ramen stall run by a retired fire mage. I figured you'd appreciate a date without spontaneous combustion."
Frank gave her a sidelong glance. "So… this is a date?"
She blinked. "Are you really going to make me spell it out?"
"Maybe," he said, smirking. "Just to watch you struggle."
She rolled her eyes and sat down. "Don't make me stab you with a stirrer."
They ordered—cherry blossom chai for her, smoked lavender black for him—and settled into a sunlit corner booth. For a moment, there was just warm air, soft clinks of cups, and the hum of conversations around them.
"So," Juliet said, fingers tapping her cup. "What kind of lunacy have you been up to lately?"
Frank paused.
Thought about Sarina. The core token. The duel request. The cult he didn't know existed yet.
"Quiet week," he said. "Organized my inventory. Lied to a recruiter. Possibly triggered a multidimensional arms race."
Juliet blinked.
He added, "But I made profit."
She burst out laughing. "Gods, I missed this."
Frank leaned back, soaking in her laughter, the tea, the warmth—and how, for once, his system wasn't throwing error alerts or warning pings.
Until it did.
Ping.
> [Trade System Update: Sync Delay Detected]
[Notice: Background Process Interference – Unknown Source]
He frowned slightly, tapping it away.
Juliet noticed. "Everything okay?"
Frank looked at her, then smiled.
"Everything's fine."
Juliet sipped her tea, eyes narrowing slightly as she savored it. "This is actually good."
Frank raised an eyebrow. "I was promised floral bitterness and disappointment. I feel cheated."
"Maybe I told them to spike yours with regret."
He sniffed his cup, mock-suspicious. "I knew this smelled like emotional baggage."
Juliet smiled behind her teacup, watching him through the steam. "You're different when you're not bleeding."
"I'm a lot more sarcastic when my ribcage isn't full of holes."
"That's a charming mental image."
"I try."
A pause settled between them—not uncomfortable, but… quiet. Real.
Frank set his cup down. "So. You asked me out."
Juliet gave a small shrug. "Yeah. I figured we survived a dungeon boss, a minotaur resurrection, and a possibly cursed scroll… tea was the logical next step."
He tilted his head. "You didn't strike me as the 'logical tea' type."
"And you didn't strike me as the kind of guy who throws power potions like candy during a boss fight."
He smirked. "Desperation is a good motivator."
"Is that what this is?" she asked, softly. "Desperation?"
His smile faded just a little.
"No," Frank said. "This is me trying to figure out if I can exist outside the grind. Outside the selling, the dodging, the watching-my-back part."
Juliet nodded slowly, eyes lowering to her tea.
"I get that," she said. "It's exhausting. Always having to prove you deserve your spot."
Frank leaned forward, fingers laced. "You were the strongest in our team."
"You still pulled us through," she replied.
"Only because I didn't try to lead."
"You led anyway," Juliet said. "Quietly. Like you'd rather no one noticed."
He glanced out the window. Sunlight scattered across the glass dome, casting soft orange patterns onto the table.
"I got tired of being noticed," he said. "It never led to anything good."
Juliet was quiet for a second.
Then she said, "Frank, I like that you don't try to impress people. But… maybe you should let yourself be impressive."
He blinked. "That was dangerously close to a compliment."
She smirked. "Shut up and drink your tea."
He lifted the cup obediently. "You always like bossing people around?"
"I'm a field leader. It's part of the job."
"Even off the field?"
"Especially off the field," she said, sipping. "Someone has to keep you in line."
"I'm very manageable," he said.
Juliet snorted. "That's the biggest lie I've heard since my last guild evaluation."
Frank laughed—a real one, this time. Not forced. Not ironic.
Juliet stared at him for a moment longer than she meant to.
"You laugh weird when it's real," she said quietly.
"I don't get much practice."
They sat there for a while.
Drinking tea. Letting the world fade just a little.
Letting their walls come down—just a little
Juliet stirred her tea slowly, the spoon clinking once, then falling still.
Frank leaned back in his chair, watching her without pressing. She looked thoughtful—calm on the surface, but her fingers were drumming faintly on the table edge.
He waited.
Finally, she said, "I don't do this often."
"Drink tea?" Frank offered.
She gave him a half-smile. "No. Sit still. Talk. Let things be quiet."
Frank shrugged. "You're doing fine so far."
She tilted her head, considering him. "You're not what I expected when I first saw your profile."
"I had better hair in the photo."
Juliet smiled, then looked down at her cup again.
"My first team didn't take me seriously," she said, tone shifting—lower, sharper, more honest. "They said I was too impatient. Too reckless. Not 'guild material.'"
Frank's brow furrowed slightly. "They were wrong."
"They were right about one thing," she murmured. "I amimpatient. I do push too hard. Because I've always felt like if I stop moving, someone else will get ahead. Someone louder. Smarter. More connected."
Frank didn't speak right away.
Then: "You fought the minotaur head-on when everyone else hesitated."
"Because I was terrified of looking useless."
He raised an eyebrow. "Funny. I thought that was called leadership."
Juliet looked at him, and for the first time, her expression didn't hold challenge or sarcasm.
Just… thanks.
She nodded once. "I don't say it much, but… I was impressed. With you. During that run."
Frank tried to brush it off. "I had help."
"You made the calls that mattered. You moved like someone who'd seen worse and survived it quietly."
A long pause.
Then Juliet added, almost too softly to hear:
"You reminded me I didn't have to carry everything alone."
Frank looked down at his tea, unsure of what to say to that.
So he just said, "...That might be the nicest thing anyone's said to me in months."
She smiled again, gentler this time. "You deserve to hear it."
Frank leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "So what now? We awkwardly compliment each other for another hour?"
Juliet smirked. "Maybe. Or maybe I tell you something I've never told anyone in Nexus."
He tilted his head. "Dangerous offer."
"I'm full of bad decisions."
"Try me."
She took a slow breath.
"When I was seventeen, I forged my first raid record to get into a B-rank squad."
Frank blinked. "You lied your way in?"
She nodded. "Faked a minor dungeon clear and bribed a scout with a healing amulet. I made it two missions before getting caught."
"Let me guess… you got kicked?"
Juliet grinned. "I got promoted. The guildmaster said anyone who'd risk that much for a shot at power was someone to watch."
Frank laughed. "I'd trade that story for five potions and a mobility scroll."
"You can't afford it," she said, lifting her teacup.
He clinked his against hers. "Try me."
"So," Juliet said, leaning forward, her fingers wrapped around her empty teacup, "was this worth putting on a clean shirt?"
Frank gave her a sideways look. "I regret nothing. Except the part where I actually ironed."
Juliet's smile widened. "You ironed?"
"I panicked. I wanted to look… I don't know. Less like I live inside a storage closet."
"Well," she said, tilting her head slightly, "you still look like a man who carries lockpicks in his shoe."
Frank smirked. "That's because I do."
Juliet laughed—bright and clear. For a second, the world shrank to just the sound of her voice and the sun cutting through the dome above them.
Frank took a breath, actually letting himself relax.
"So," she said after a beat, "do we do this again sometime? Or was this a one-time truce between two semi-functional adventurers?"
He opened his mouth to reply.
But didn't get the chance.
CRACK.
The air behind him twisted—shredded—like someone had torn open space with a claw.
A jagged purple-blue portal snapped open directly behind Frank's chair.
The hum of the café vanished—replaced by a howling vacuum of energy.
Juliet's chair clattered backward.
"Frank—!"
He tried to stand, but a force yanked at him—fast, violent, unnatural.
The table flipped. His cup shattered.
Juliet reached out, grabbing his wrist. "Hold on!"
"I'm trying!" he shouted, feet dragging across the floor, pulled toward the churning void.
The portal flared, brighter now—not magical, not system-tagged. It was something else..
Juliet's grip slipped.
Frank looked up at her, eyes wide.
"Not how I planned this date ending," he said, voice tight.
"Frank—!"
He was yanked through.
Gone.
The portal snapped shut with a thunderclap.
The café went silent.
Juliet stood alone amid shattered cups, overturned chairs, and a flickering lantern that no longer knew what had happened.
Her voice shook.
"Frank?"