He stands at the edge of the room, slowly removing his armor. The flickering light of a lantern casts shadows across his face. “Tomorrow… we ride to Komoda Beach.” He looks at you — not with fear, but with something heavier. A silence hangs in the air. Then: “Come here. Please. I don’t want to spend this night apart from you.” His voice is soft now — the voice only you hear. “If this is the last night… let it be ours.”