D-Animal
"Elara!"
Cida Pack's voice cut through the hallway early in the morning, firm enough to be impossible to ignore—even for someone still lost between dreams.
"There's a young man in the living room saying he's your fiancé."
Elara let out a low groan, burying her face into the pillow.
"Five minutes…" she murmured, her mind still foggy, completely incapable of processing the information. She rolled onto her side, pulling the blanket a little higher, yawning deeply.
Fiancé.
The word hit… but didn't sink in.
She stretched slowly, arms over her head, feeling her body still heavy from the effort of the previous day. Her left wrist was strangely quiet—Lupus, Fenrir, and Visio were sleeping, or at least resting, inside the D-Armilla.
Then her brain woke up.
Fiancé.
Restricted training field.
The Han family.
Seung-Woo.
Elara's eyes flew open.
"—WHAT?!"
She practically leapt out of bed, tripping over her own sheets, her heart racing with a mix of panic and urgency. She ran a hand through her still-messy curls, took a deep breath, and rushed into the bathroom.
"I'm coming down!" she shouted back to her mother.
She didn't think. She just acted.
She opened her wardrobe and grabbed the first outfit that made sense for training—comfortable, practical, discreet, but functional. A white sports top, fitted enough to provide support, with black details and firm straps crossing her back. Over it, she pulled on black running shorts, light, with white side stripes, allowing full leg mobility.
She quickly slipped into a pair of black running shoes with white soles, tightening the laces in a hurry. Before leaving the room, she grabbed a cropped black jacket and zipped it halfway up—protection against the early morning cold.
She picked up her phone, slipped her earbuds into her jacket pocket, tied her hair into a high ponytail, and took a deep breath.
Ready.
She went down the stairs almost at a run.
In the living room, the scene was… tense.
Tyrant Pack stood with his arms crossed, imposing posture, staring at the young man in front of him as if assessing a potential enemy. Elara's father's gray eyes were hard, suspicious, clearly irritated.
Seated on the couch, perfectly upright, was Seung-Woo.
He wore dark training clothes: a black long-sleeved athletic shirt, fitted to his body, highlighting defined shoulders and arms, technical fabric clinging to his skin. Simple black sports shorts, functional and understated, and equally dark sneakers. A sports watch on his wrist and earbuds resting around his neck completed the look.
Elegant—even at five in the morning.
Cida stood near the table, arms resting on the back of a chair, watching everything closely… with a dangerously amused glint in her eyes.
"Good morning," Seung-Woo said politely as soon as he saw Elara.
"Morning," she replied too quickly. "Seung."
Everyone looked at her.
Tyrant narrowed his eyes.
"Seung?" he repeated.
Elara realized the mistake too late.
"I—I mean," she cleared her throat, trying to stay calm, "Seung-Woo."
Her father took a step forward.
"So you're the so-called 'fiancé,'" he said, the word dripping with irony.
Seung-Woo maintained his impeccable posture.
"Yes, sir."
Elara opened her mouth.
"Dad—"
Before she could explain anything, Lucas appeared from the hallway, hair still messy, eyes curious.
"Fiancé?" he asked immediately. "Elara's?"
"Lucas," she warned.
"Where are you going?" he asked, ignoring the warning.
"To train," Elara answered quickly. "Me and Seung-Woo."
Tyrant turned to her instantly.
"You're not going."
"You are," Cida said sweetly—like venom.
He stared at her.
"What?"
"Or would you prefer," she continued calmly, crossing her arms, "that I remind you right now about that time you promised you wouldn't bet again… and then did?"
The silence dropped like a bomb.
Tyrant paled slightly.
"…That's not relevant."
"It is," Cida replied with a smile. "Either she goes to train… or we talk about it calmly."
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then muttered:
"Damn it…"
"So?" Cida raised an eyebrow.
"Fine," he gave in, sulking. "Go."
Lucas's eyes widened.
"Then I'm going too!"
"What?" Elara turned to him.
"I want to train too!" he said, already excited. "If you're going, I'm going."
Before anyone could stop him, he ran back upstairs.
"Lucas!" Elara called.
"I'm getting ready!"
Minutes later, he came back wearing a simple black tank top, black athletic shorts, running shoes, and earbuds already hanging around his neck. His red hair was even messier—but his grin was confident, like someone who had no idea what awaited him.
"Ready!"
Seung-Woo chuckled softly.
"Brave," he commented.
At 5:30 a.m., the three of them left the house.
The sky was still dark, just a pale line announcing sunrise. The air was cold, clean, perfect for running. The streets were almost empty, silent except for the rhythmic sound of footsteps.
They started slowly.
Elara kept a controlled pace, attentive to her brother. Seung-Woo matched them easily, clearly holding back his conditioning so as not to leave them behind.
Lucas… struggled.
His breathing was already heavy after a few minutes, steps uneven, but he didn't stop.
"Come on," Seung-Woo said beside him. "Breathe through your nose. Out through your mouth."
"Easy… to say…" Lucas panted.
Seung-Woo slowed down a bit more.
"You're doing well," he said. "Don't quit now."
Lucas clenched his teeth and kept going.
Elara cast a quick glance at Seung-Woo—surprised, but grateful.
As they ran, the sun slowly began to rise on the horizon.
And for the first time since the chaos of the seeds, Elara felt something rare:
Normalcy.
Running. Family. Silence.
Before the world demanded everything from her again.
The pace stayed steady for a few minutes.
The sound of footsteps echoed softly on the still-cold asphalt, blending with Elara's rhythmic breathing and Seung-Woo's perfectly controlled cadence. Lucas, a few steps behind, no longer hid the effort—his chest rose and fell too fast, his arms beginning to feel heavy.
"Hey," Seung-Woo said, turning his head slightly back while continuing to run. "Don't look at the ground."
"I—I'm not…" Lucas tried to answer, but had to draw more air before finishing.
"Look ahead," Seung-Woo insisted, now smiling faintly. "If you look down, your body thinks you want to stop."
Lucas muttered something unintelligible, but obeyed.
Elara slowed slightly, falling in beside her brother.
"Short stride," she advised. "Don't try to match us. Just keep your own pace."
"You've… always been annoying," Lucas gasped, but there was a tired smile there.
"And you've always complained," she replied, without losing her breath.
Seung-Woo watched the two of them with quiet attention. There was something there he didn't comment on—the way Elara instinctively adjusted her pace to protect her brother, without even realizing she was doing it. It wasn't weakness. It was awareness.
After a few more minutes, Lucas stumbled slightly.
He didn't fall—because Seung-Woo caught him by the arm instantly.
"That's enough," he said, firm but not harsh. "Quick break."
Lucas practically collapsed onto the curb, elbows on his knees, breathing like he'd just escaped a fire.
"I'm… alive," he declared between gasps. "That's… already a win."
Elara bent forward slightly, hands on her thighs, taking a deep breath for the first time since they'd left the house. Her body was warm, awake, alert. The D-Armilla remained stable—no excessive pulsing, no shocks.
Lupus, Fenrir, and Visio remained silent.
Watching.
Seung-Woo handed Lucas a bottle of water, which he accepted as if it were a divine gift.
"Don't push past your limit," Seung-Woo said. "Training isn't punishment."
Lucas nodded, still drinking.
"You say that… like you know," he commented.
"I do," Seung-Woo replied simply.
Elara straightened and looked at him for a moment longer.
"You trained like this from early on?" she asked.
"Since I needed to," he answered, stowing his bottle. "Even before the D-Armilla."
She nodded slowly.
A brief, comfortable silence followed, broken only by the distant sounds of the city beginning to wake—a bus passing far away, a shop door opening, the first delivery drone crossing the sky.
Lucas finally stood up, still a bit unsteady.
"Okay," he said. "Can I say I trained with a future legend now?"
Elara rolled her eyes.
"You ran five kilometers and almost died," she replied.
"Details."
Seung-Woo laughed for real this time—a short, low, genuine laugh.
"Come on," he said. "A little more. I promise it's light."
Lucas grimaced.
"You promise way too easily."
They started running again, now at an even gentler pace. The city was gaining color, the sky brightening in pale blue and soft gold.
Elara felt her body respond well. Strong. Stable. It was strange—after everything that had happened, this simple moment felt almost unreal.
"Seung," she called, using the nickname without thinking.
He turned his head slightly.
"Hmm?"
"Thank you… for today."
He took a second to answer.
"Don't thank me," he said. "This is training too."
"For what?" she asked.
He looked at her sideways, serious again.
"To learn how to live with what you carry."
She fell silent.
Lucas, a few steps behind, watched the two with curiosity far too sharp for someone so exhausted.
"You talk weird," he commented. "Sounds like something from a movie."
Elara let out a short laugh.
"You wouldn't understand."
"I understand more than you think," he replied, surprisingly serious for a moment.
Seung-Woo cast him a quick, assessing glance.
"Maybe," he said. "But it's not your time yet."
Lucas huffed.
"Everyone says that."
They kept running.
And as the sun finally rose on the horizon, illuminating the street where three figures moved together—a girl with three silent D-Animals at her wrist, a young man carrying the weight of a powerful name and family, and a boy desperately trying to keep up—something solidified there.
It wasn't just training.
It was the beginning of a routine.
An alliance forged not in battlefields or sealed rooms, but on the cold asphalt of an ordinary morning.
And Elara knew, deep down, that moments like this would be rare.
So she ran a little longer.
Before the world demanded everything from her again.