Only Lance Didn’t Make a Fuss

"There you are."

General Oriole Hart, standing in his best attire of golden coat and black Guardian uniform, walked to block her path. He wore a purple pendant on his chest. At a glance, Chiaki knew that the hue was because of the miniature fire of his innate power stored inside that glass pendant, glowing faintly in contrast with his black shirt.

There was no one else in the corridor to the library, other guests entertained themselves in the reception hall with food and dance. Because Chiaki didn't feel like blending with the crowd — she knew the majority of the people anyway, no need for networking — she retreated to the library. Oriole Hart seemed quite familiar with this particular solitude-loving trait of hers. He knew where to catch her.