Reborn as the Last van Ambrose

The walk back to the competitors’ area was more challenging than Grim had anticipated. The adrenaline that had carried him through the match was fading rapidly, allowing the Ghost Veil poison to reassert its hold on his body. Each step required conscious effort, and the burning sensation from Feng’s fire techniques added another layer of discomfort.

By the time he reached his assigned preparation space, sweat beaded on his forehead, and his vision occasionally blurred at the edges. He needed to focus on purging the poison before his condition deteriorated further.

But as he turned the corner to his section, Grim stopped abruptly. Someone was waiting for him. A young woman seated casually on the his bench as if she belonged there.

She was breathtaking, her delicate features accentuated by striking crimson lips that contrasted with her pale skin. Her brown hair fell in lush waves over her bare shoulders, highlighted with chestnut undertones that caught the light. She wore a backless black gown with elegant gold embroidery tracing down its length, the fabric clinging to her curves before cascading to the floor with a high slit revealing a glimpse of leg. A high choker adorned her slender neck, and elaborate gold earrings dangled alongside her face. But most arresting were her eyes. They were amber and intense, framed by long lashes, watching him with undisguised interest.

She smiled, clearly enjoying his confusion. "You don’t recognize me, do you?"

Grim’s hand moved instinctively to Echo’s hilt. "You’re in my preparation area."

"That’s not a proper greeting," she replied, rising from the bench. "Especially for your dance partner."

[Oh, I remember her.] The voice said.

"Who are you?" Grim demanded, refusing to play whatever game this stranger had initiated.

She placed a hand over her heart in mock injury. "I’m wounded, truly. We danced at Princess Liona’s birthday ball twelve years ago, and you’ve forgotten me entirely?"

Something in her mannerisms sparked a distant memory, but Grim couldn’t quite place it. The Ghost Veil wasn’t helping his already limited patience.

"You have ten seconds to identify yourself or leave," he said coldly.

Instead of being intimidated, she laughed. A sound like silver bells that seemed jarringly out of place given his threat.

"Mira," she said finally, performing an elegant curtsy that somehow managed to be both proper and slightly mocking. "Mira Luminaris. And you owe me twelve birthday gifts, by my count."

Grim stiffened. "Luminaris."

"Yes, Luminaris," she confirmed, moving closer confidently. "Max’s twin sister. The girl that helped you select a gift for Princess Liona when your father took you shopping. The one you danced with at the royal ball before everything... changed."

The memory finally crystallized. A formal dance at the royal palace during Princess Liona’s birthday celebration, and a chance meeting in the store. Brief encounters from another lifetime.

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice hard.

"Initially? To see if the stories about you were true," Mira replied, circling him with appraising eyes. "Now? To help you with that poison before you collapse. You look terrible."

Grim frowned. "I don’t need your help."

"Yes, you do," she countered, coming to stand directly before him. "Ghost Veil is particularly nasty, and you’ve used up most of your reserves fighting it off during the match." Her amber eyes started to look him up and down.

[She’s right,] the voice acknowledged reluctantly. [Your condition is getting worse because you fought with the poison in your body.]

"How do you know it’s Ghost Veil?" Grim asked, suspicion evident in his tone.

Mira’s expression shifted, becoming more serious. "Because I’ve seen it used before. I recognize the symptoms."

Before Grim could respond, she reached out with startling speed and pressed her palm against his chest. He tried to step back, but his reflexes were too dulled by the poison. A warm sensation spread from her touch, different from the burning of Feng’s fire techniques. This was soothing, restorative.

Light emanated from her hand, not the pure white-gold, but a warmer, amber glow that matched her eyes. The energy flowed into him, seeking out the poison that corrupted his system.

[Interesting,] the voice observed. [She’s using a purification technique based on light affinity, it seems like it’s very effective.]

The relief was immediate and substantial. The fog that had clouded Grim’s mind began to recede, and the heaviness in his limbs lessened considerably.

"Your father and I are not on good terms." Grim said. "I don’t care about that." Mira responded.

Using her free hand, she lifted it to his face, tracing one of the blood lines he’d marked himself with. "Politics and grudges are tiresome. I make my own decisions."

Her healing energy continued to flow into him, accelerating the neutralization of the Ghost Veil. But there was something else in her touch now. An intent that had nothing to do with healing.

"What are you really doing here, Mira?" Grim asked, studying her face.

Mira did not answer. Before he could react, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his.

The kiss caught him entirely off guard. Her lips were soft, carrying a warmth that seemed to spread through him faster than her healing energy had. For a moment, time stood suspended in the small preparation chamber, the sounds of the arena beyond faded.

Grim remained frozen, his mind struggling to process this unexpected development. Part of him wondered if this was another form of attack, some subtle plot. But the voice in his head was suspiciously silent, offering no warnings or analysis.

The scent of jasmine filled his senses as she pressed closer, one hand still against his chest. Her touch was delicate, but strong. As if she was entirely accustomed to taking what she wanted without hesitation.

Somewhere in the distance, a door slammed, breaking the spell of the moment. Grim’s instincts finally kicked in, his hands moving to her shoulders to create distance between them.

Mira’s amber eyes opened, meeting his gaze without a hint of embarrassment or regret. A slight smile played at the corners of her now-slightly-smudged crimson lips, as if she had accomplished exactly what she’d intended.