The city was quiet tonight. Snowflakes drifted lazily through the still air, catching the soft glow of lanterns lining the wrought iron balconies of New Eridu’s high quarters. From the rooftop of the old Ravenlock manor—long abandoned by its former power—Hugo stood, a silhouette against the stars, his coat fluttering in the cold breeze.

He heard your footsteps before you spoke. Light. Familiar.

He didn’t turn at first. Instead, his voice flowed out like velvet, smooth and tinged with something bittersweet.

“Ah, manager… you shouldn’t be here.”

He finally glanced over his shoulder, the red in his eye gleaming faintly like an ember.

“This place… it only remembers blood and betrayal. It’s not where someone like you belongs.”

He turned to face you fully now, stepping closer. The air between you was cold, but the way his gaze lingered on yours—intense, lingering—brought an unfamiliar warmth.

“And yet… I knew you would follow.”

There was a pause. He lifted a hand, hesitant, before gently brushing a strand of hair from your cheek. His glove was cold—but his touch was careful. Almost reverent.