"Control and timing, I keep saying it, Luca."
"No, you say—control, finesse and timing."
"Oh—I omitted finesse, but even tho—wait. You've actually been listening all this while? Then why the hell don't you implement it?!"
Luca dropped to one knee and raised his foil with both hands like it was some sacred relic. His expression was solemn, though the sarcasm bled through his tone. "Forgive me, oh wise sensei, if my pitiful beginner's hands can't yet wield the divine art you've spent a decade perfecting," he hissed.
Adrian rolled his eyes and stepped forward, lifting his foot and flicking Luca's foil into the air with a swift tap of his toe. The blade spun up and the lights in the room caught its well-crafted length.
Adrian then smoothly caught it mid-air with his free hand.
Luca looked up, surprised and completely baffled. He had fenced with Adrian countless times, he knew he was very good, but he had never seen him do that.
He quickly masked his astonishment before Adrian could see too much, but Adrian had already caught the look and soaked up the silent praise like a sponge.
Without saying a word, Luca collapsed to his side and rolled toward the foam chair nearby. Staying on one knee any longer after that stunt wouldn't come off as sarcastic reverence anymore and it would start looking like genuine elevation.
Adrian chortled at him, clearly enjoying himself, and Luca threw up his middle finger without even glancing his way.
"Just give me the end of this year," Luca said with cool confidence.
Adrian sighed dramatically and tossed the foil back to him. "That's exactly what I mean. At this pace, by year's end, you'd just be getting into only disengage-parry drills if you're lucky."
Luca grabbed the hilt of his foil and gave it a tight spin with his wrist, twisting the blade along with it before pointing the tip directly at Adrian. "Do you mean to keep me as your padawan for yet another year…?"
Adrian shrugged, unfazed. "Only if you don't listen—control, timing, and, yes, finesse, since you were so kind to remind me. You keep relying on strength, speed bursts, overreaching lunges, and wild parries. I'm not Jimmy Damgaard that you want to stick a blade straight through."
Luca let out a laugh at the mention of Jimmy Damgaard, then rose to his feet with a smirk still on his face as he relished the joke.
"Just so you know," Adrian added dryly, "in a fistfight, Jimmy would absolutely pound you into the mat, mate."
That made Luca pause for a second. He actually visualized the scenario in his head—him and the Norwegian Matadori going head-to-head. They were of the same height, but Damgaard definitely looked more physically imposing. Not bulkier per se, but carved in that Nordic-sport-warrior type of way.
Still, Luca knew his own body—lean, fast, with a sleeper build. Not to mention the subtle advantage of his Attributes. If it came down to it, he could knock Jimmy out before anyone could blink.
He shook his head and muttered, "Impossible," then pulled his mask over his face, resetting his stance and preparing to engage.
But just as they were about to clash again, the alarm Luca had set rang, indicating the end of the session. Adrian twirled the tip of his foil just inches from Luca's eyes. "You're lucky," he said.
Luca wanted to suggest they spar once or twice more before he left, just to end the session on his own terms. But he decided against it. His day was already structured, his schedule tight, and he was supposed to be leaving now to catch up on a few other things.
Luca knew if he stayed for one more round, it would turn into two, then five, then six, and before he knew it, he'd completely lose track of time.
So instead, he gave Adrian a sharp salute and began to pack his things to leave.
By now, the Hawthorne family mansion felt like a second home to Luca. Everything had become naturally familiar, all from the layout, to the scent and even the creaks in the floorboards he could hear. He had grown so used to the place that he could find his way around blindfolded. Mrs. Hawthorne had made sure of that as she was obsessively committed to folding him into the family.
Adrian walked him out, the two of them chatting casually as they made their way to the parking lot. Halfway there, Luca reached into his duffel bag, fished out his car keys, and with a flick of his thumb, pointed them toward his Jaguar. A sharp beep echoed through the lot as the car's lights blinked and the driver's door unlocked in acknowledgment of its rightful owner.
Apologies for the late update, but Luca now had his driver's licence. He'd been a licensed driver for three weeks now—nearing a full month—and even now, he still couldn't fully believe it.
He graduated from driving school with an impressive resume: completed all required hours without a single fault, scored full marks on his theory test, and earned praise from his instructor for his smooth handling and quick reaction during simulations. His parallel parking was spot on, and his highway merging technique was so clean the examiner actually wrote "textbook perfect" in the remarks.
For someone who once feared behind any car wheel, Luca was now driving like he'd been on the road for years.
He got into the car, waved to Adrian, and pulled out of the mansion's drive, heading toward home. As the road stretched out before him, Luca couldn't stop fresh memories from creeping in. They were memories of the day the team visited Rodnick to check up on him.
Everyone had been in good spirits at first, chatting, laughing, making light-hearted jokes around the dining table. But then one of the crew members noticed that Rodnick hadn't said a word in quite some time. When he glanced over, he caught a single tear tracing its way down Rodnick's cheek.
This quickly shifted the mood in the dining hall as everyone turned their attention to Rodnick to comfort him, because they knew he was crying about his absence from competition.
The visit, which was meant to lift spirits, ended up sinking them. The team left the mansion with a different kind of weight than the one they arrived with.
Remembering everything, Luca felt his heart grow heavy as he drove into his villa. However, the heaviness slowly lightened when he saw Isabella and Manuela in the distance, carefree, laughing and flying kites across the open green plains.