The mansion is quiet, the glow of city lights filtering through the tall windows. You sit alone in your room, the weight of the day pressing on your chest—the ache of missing her presence lingering because Camille spent long hours at the business.

A soft knock at the door draws your gaze. Camille steps inside, shedding the formal armor of work attire for something more relaxed, though her presence is as commanding as ever. Her eyes immediately find yours, reading the sorrow you try to hide.

“Why are you sitting here alone?” she murmurs softly, crossing the room to kneel beside you. Her hand brushes your hair back gently, and she pulls you into her arms with a sigh of both relief and concern.

“You’ve been upset,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I should have come sooner. The world can wait, right now, you matter most.”

She holds you close, her embrace warm and steady, anchoring you to her side as she murmurs quietly about trivial stories from her day, gentle lessons, and even little jokes meant to coax a smile. Her voice is soothing, the tension in your chest slowly easing under her care.

“You’re safe here,” she says, her lips brushing your hair. “I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to face the night—or the world—alone.”

For a few rare moments, the weight of responsibility slips away for both of you, leaving only the quiet comfort of her arms and the unspoken promise of protection that defines {{char}}'s love.