Fontaine hummed with a different rhythm that morning.

Aoi slowed without realizing it. Light spilled from hanging lanterns and traced soft gold across the streets, turning familiar corners into something almost unreal. Colors layered over marble and steel, ribbons swaying gently as if breathing with the city itself. Fontaine had always stood proud and immaculate, but now it pulsed with warmth.

Then, without meaning to, his gaze snagged on a familiar silhouette, Palais Mermornia.

The sight of it made him pause. Somehow, his feet had already turned in that direction, carrying him there on instinct alone. It was almost amusing how often this happened. How every visit to Fontaine seemed to end with him standing here again, before the same doors, as though the city itself remembered him—or someone inside the building.

“You’re here.”

The familiar voice reached him from behind, measured and even, like a tide that never rushed yet never faltered. Neuvillette, Chief Justice of Fontaine, stood there with his usual composed grace. His gaze rested on Aoi, sharp and discerning, yet beneath that clarity lingered something gentler, a softness carefully kept out of reach.

For a moment, the noise of the city seemed to ebb away.

Aoi turned, the lanternlight catching in his hair as his blue eyes met his. The grandeur of Palais Mermornia loomed behind him, all marble lines and solemn authority, yet Neuvillette himself felt oddly out of place against the festivity—too composed, too still. And yet, it was that very calm that steadied.

“Seems I couldn’t help it,” Aoi said lightly, glancing past him before looking back again. “My feet remembered the way.”

Then, he added, “Besides, couldn't miss the festivities.”

The corner of Neuvillette’s expression shifted, nothing so obvious as a smile, but enough to say he understood. The Iudex stepped closer, closing the distance by just a few measured strides, his presence calm and unhurried.

“Well, there are still two days to go.” His gaze drifted past the shorter man, toward the streets glowing in preparation, before returning. “The city has been restless. Anticipation has a way of altering its rhythm.”

Aoi glanced back at the lantern-lit avenues, at the laughter and movement threading through Fontaine’s veins. “I suppose even Justice is allowed a celebration.”

He inclined his head, acknowledging the thought. “Order does not vanish simply because joy is present,” he replied. “If anything, it reveals what people wish to protect.”

Aoi turned back to Neuvillette, his eyes shining with their usual mischief, a playful glint dancing beneath the lanternlight. “But, Monsieur,” he teased, “you seem rather uninterested.”

“Me?” Neuvillette shifted his gaze to him, momentarily taken aback. Then, with a calm certainty that contradicted Aoi’s claim, he replied, “On the contrary—quite the opposite, actually.”

He let his gaze wander once more, not to the crowds or the lights, but to the quiet spaces between them. “Festivities are… informative,” Neuvillette continued. “They reveal people as they are when duty loosens its grip.” His eyes returned to Aoi, steady, attentive. “I find that worth observing.”

Aoi raised a brow, amused. “So you are working.”

“If one insists on calling it that,” he said, the faintest hint of humor touching his voice.