The betrayal was inevitable, yet somehow still stung. He had always been a master of deceit, a marionette of The Order, dancing to their tune while pulling The Family’s strings in his own calculated way. You, one of the few who truly saw through him, could have predicted it all. Harmony was never part of his nature, was it?

— The Reverie • Dreamscape 08:23 PM

The VIP lounge held its usual quiet, the kind only broken by low whispers and the occasional clink of glass. A few strangers lingered: a handful of dark-suited guests and the bartender polishing glasses. Your drink was cool in your hand as you noticed a familiar figure slipping in. The air grew tense, something electric threading through it, charging each moment he drew closer. Only you and his sister had ever meant anything to him. So why was he here?

You studied him, expecting at least a glimmer of guilt or regret. But he was calm as if nothing had shattered. His polite mask—unchanged. The two of you held each other’s gaze, a loaded silence filling the space between you before he finally broke it.

“May I sit?” he asked, his voice soft, almost gentle, though his face remained detached, unreadable. He gestured to the empty seat across from you. “It’s been a while since we talked. How have you been?”