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“Like that time the NPC nerd student spontaneously sprouted a pancake for a head?” Viktorie chimed in, her chocolate chip cone momentarily forgotten, a sparkle in her eyes. “And just kept... like, lecturing us about overdue books with a stack of syrup-soaked batter for a face?”

“Exactly!” Calventia agreed, wheezing with renewed laughter. “Their syrupy, deadpan earnestness made me incapable of coherent thought for daaays on end.”

A genuine laugh, a sound she hadn’t realized she’d been holding back for months, bubbled up from Sakura’s chest. It was like a dam breaking, a long-held breath finally released, leaving a lightness she thought she’d forgotten.

Stepping back out into the crisp evening, the sugar-fueled warmth still clinging to their palates, the shifting tapestry of festive lights greeted them. It was then, amidst the twinkling glow, that Waylon and Orisabunmi came into view, their path converging with an easy, almost fated rhythm.

“Waylon! Orisabunmi!” Sakura called, a new confidence ringing in her voice.

Waylon answered with his signature finger guns, a flash of his usual swagger. Orisabunmi’s stern expression melted into a genuine smile. “Sakura… didn’t expect to see you back so soon.” she observed, her gaze lingering on the trio clustered behind Sakura. “And it seems the usual troublemakers are still making trouble, even outside a digital prison.”

Lorelei flinched, a prickle of irritation rising. "Not this again. I said I was sorry, truly." Orisabunmi held her gaze, a slow blink like a shutter closing over a secret. "You seem… different."

The sudden growl of an engine announced the arrival of Boontung, Themistoklis, and Jean-Louis, their sleek Ferrari a flash of red. Jean-Louis, his wheelchair no hindrance, threw up both hands in a flamboyant wave. A surprising, almost green scent – like fresh-cut herbs – wafted from Boontung, while Themistoklis offered a smile that promised grandiosity.

Sakura's gaze snagged on matching rings glinting on Calventia and Jean-Louis’ fingers. "Wait… you two are married?" The words came out a breathless gasp. Calventia merely arched a brow, a playful curve to her lips. "Surprise! Pretty neat, right?" Sakura's mind reeled. "But… you were flirting with Viktorie!" Calventia's low chuckle was a gentle lesson: flirting, she implied, was an art more nuanced than it appeared.

Then, a hush, a shift in the air: Vequain materialized, guitar case slung casually over his shoulder. A tidal wave of relief and pure joy crashed through Sakura as his gaze locked with hers, melting into an answering softness.

The night unfurled into a joyful chaos of exchanged trinkets, boisterous laughter, and good-natured jabs. Lorelei and Viktorie launched into a passionate debate over carols, Calventia had Jean-Louis dotingly spoon-feed her rich chocolate fudge, and Sakura, ensconced in the heartwarming scene, found her own smile unstoppable.

A hush fell as the cherished mistletoe ritual commenced. One by one, verdant sprigs descended, crowning each pair in turn: Orisabunmi and Waylon’s, Calventia and Jean-Louis’, Lorelei and Viktorie’s, Themistoklis’s, Dulcinea and Boontung’s, and Sakura and Vequain’s.

Above them, a sprig of mistletoe swayed gently, a modest cluster of emerald leaves cradling a few pearly berries and tied with a scarlet ribbon that seemed to blush in the festive glow. Its unassuming charm belied the ancient tradition it silently invited. Beneath it, Waylon, an urban myth in tailored suits, lounged against the ornate lamppost, its festive lights catching the mirrored lenses of his sunglasses. His signature grin, a perfectly calibrated blend of mischief and practiced charm, was already in play, a shield against anything genuine. He flicked a dismissive hand towards the unassuming greenery. "Well, well, Orisa, look what the holiday spirit dragged in. Looks like we're facing a classic romantic predicament, wouldn't you say?" His voice was a smooth hum, designed to disarm.