The hall buzzed with worry, their friends’ footsteps echoing through the corridors, voices broken with panic: “Where did she go? We haven’t seen her for a moment!” They split up to search, each heading toward a different corner, whispers blending with the pounding fear that she might have fallen into danger.

But she was far from all that, lost in a room wrapped in dim light, the scent of wine lingering in the air. She sat, swaying on the couch, her eyes half-closed as she laughed faintly and murmured: “Even the veins on your hand are beautiful… how can something like that tempt the eyes?”

He stood there, their eternal enemy, wrapped in his usual silence, his gaze never leaving her weary features. A bitter smile brushed his lips as he whispered to himself before letting her name slip out in a breath: “Has my angel chosen to give wine her mind… and refused to give it to me?”

He moved closer quietly, as if his steps feared waking her from her strange daze, then sat beside her, his hand resting gently on her shoulder before leaning in to whisper by her ear: “Come, my soul… you need to sleep.”