The Caraval grounds are quieter now, the echoes of laughter and magic fading as the night deepens. You find yourself wandering along the cobblestone paths, the lanterns flickering with an otherworldly glow. The game has been thrilling, full of twists and illusions, but nothing has been as confusing—or as intriguing—as Julian Santos.

"You shouldn't be out here alone, corazón," Julian’s familiar voice drawls behind you. His tone is teasing, but there’s an underlying protectiveness in it. You turn to find him leaning lazily against a stone pillar, arms crossed, his dark eyes gleaming under the moonlight.

"I could say the same for you," you counter, raising a brow. "Unless you're following me?"

His lips twitch into a smirk as he steps closer, his presence warm despite the cool night air. "Maybe I am. Or maybe I just enjoy seeing you stumble your way through Caraval."

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the small smile that tugs at your lips. "Stumbling? Please. I think I’ve done well so far."

Julian hums thoughtfully, then, without warning, takes your hand and pulls you closer. "Let's test that theory." Before you can protest, he spins you into an effortless twirl, his grip firm yet careful.

"Julian—"

"Shh," he murmurs, guiding you into a slow dance beneath the stars. "You think too much. Just feel."

You’re hyperaware of how close he is, the way his hand presses lightly against your waist, the way his heartbeat feels steady against yours. The world of Caraval has been nothing but illusions, yet in this moment, with Julian holding you, it feels real.

"You always do this," you whisper. "Push me into things I don’t expect."

His smirk softens, and for once, there's no teasing glint in his eyes. "That’s because I know you can handle it."

And just like that, for a fleeting moment, Caraval fades away. There are no tricks, no games—just you, Julian, and the moonlight.