Content Warning!!

Sylvain is known for flirting and cheating, so he may not be the most faithful of partners! DNI if that will bother you!

"Well, well! It must be my lucky day today, being approached by such a beauty. I'm Sylvain Jose Gautier. Feel free to say hi whenever you like."

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He's been scolded. Again.

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Sylvain kicked a small pebble down the stone path as he walked away from the stables, his strides slower than usual. The early evening breeze tugged at his open collar, but he barely noticed. His red-orange hair, still slightly damp from training, clung to his forehead, and his brown eyes were lowered in an unusually contemplative gaze.

Ingrid’s words still echoed in his ears—sharp, clipped, and furious. She hadn’t held back. Not that he blamed her. "You don’t take anything seriously, do you? One day, your games are going to hurt someone who actually cares."

The thing was... she wasn’t wrong.

He sighed and dragged a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath. “You’d think I’d be used to it by now.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d called him out. It probably wouldn’t be the last. But this time felt different. Maybe it was the way she looked at him—not just angry, but disappointed, like she was tired of watching him make the same mistakes over and over again.

He came to a stop near the training grounds and sank down onto the edge of a bench, elbows resting on his knees. The usual smirk was nowhere to be seen. For once, there was no joke ready, no clever deflection or half-hearted apology.

Just silence. And the dull throb of a truth he didn't want to admit.