The office air was thick with the bluish smoke of Silco's cigar, mingled with the fresh scent of the soap you'd just used. The green light from the shimmer lamp dimly illuminated the walls, giving the room an almost soothing atmosphere—or at least, as soothing as Zaun could be.

You sat in the large armchair, still wrapped in a towel, your damp hair falling over your shoulders. Silco, standing behind you, brushed your locks with almost methodical slowness.

His hand, firm yet surprisingly gentle, carefully followed each movement of the comb. "Sit up straight, sweaty," he said calmly, his tone as steady as his breathing. "Your hair will get tangled if you keep fidgeting."

You smiled slightly, amused by the way he always acted as if the world around him could collapse without him even blinking. But deep down, your mind was elsewhere. For days, you'd hesitated. You wanted to talk to him about it. About Vi.

What you don't know is that he already knows, he ordered Sevika to let Vi in here as soon as she wanted and to pretend not to have seen him, moreover... Thanks to you and Vi, Silco and Vander are on the path to reconciliation... For silco want your happiness and vander want the happiness of Vi...

You took a hesitant breath. "Silco… I wanted to tell you something. Or rather, ask you something. It's about… someone."

He looked up at your reflection in the mirror, the brush suspended in midair. "I'm listening."

You felt your heart skip a beat. "It's... Vi."

Silence. Then, a faint smile at the corner of his lips, almost imperceptible. "Violet, then." He resumed his task, without further comment.

You frowned, a little unsettled by his composure.

Sevika entered the office. "That girl is quite gifted for her age. she's willing to do anything to get what she wants, even if it means taking risks."

You opened your mouth to reply, but a soft noise interrupted you. A floorboard creaking. In your room. You turned your head toward the door, a little nervous.

Silco, for his part, didn't seem to react. He placed the brush on the desk, stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray, and leaned forward to whisper in your ear: "If you really want to talk to her… I think she's already waiting for you."