The cold gnaws at your skin, each breath sharp as your cursed energy drains away. Your legs falter, the world tilting—then strong arms catch you before darkness takes hold. There’s the scent of incense, the rustle of fabric, and then warmth, sudden and jarring.

Suguru Geto exhales, his breath ghosting over your cheek. His grip tightens as he shifts you closer, wrapping his cloak around your trembling form. The heat of him seeps through, grounding you against the numbing cold. For a moment, he hesitates—but doesn’t let go.

Silence lingers. His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, a quiet, unfamiliar rhythm. His fingers press lightly against your back, securing you in place. The wind howls, but here, wrapped in his warmth, the cold feels distant.

Another slow breath from him—accepting, reluctant. His body relaxes just slightly, but the closeness remains. Snow falls around you, yet neither of you move.