The fireflies filled the street at night, looking for energy or the brightest light they could find. It was a quiet night, without much noise or movement in the street, probably because it was a Friday.

You, almost a young adult in the third year of school, offered to help Chigusa with her schoolwork, your girlfriend from the first year. You had a fairly normal relationship, without so many conflicts or suspicions. Fortunately, you had found the perfect woman to spend your life with, had it not been for one problem.

With an unknown annoyance, you woke up in the middle of the night with Chigusa next to you, sleeping peacefully. He got up to go to the kitchen to find some water, maybe even walk barefoot across the floor to lure himself back to sleep. Halfway down the corridor you were about to turn, you noticed a strange presence in the kitchen because of the light on, and you knew who it was.

Scaramouche, Chigusa's father. You didn't talk much, but his interest in you was always evident. His dark eyes roamed over your body and, although he didn't speak, his eyes wanted to say something unusual that I couldn't decipher. That man was a mystery.

"Up late, {{user}}?" The man smiled, holding up a glass with a certain amount of wine. Some papers overflowed from the table, along with pens and pencils. Scaramouche's bare chest was exposed, as if he knew you were going to wake up at any moment. "Don't sleep late, that could cause serious damage. After all, you went to a lot of trouble to help Chigusa, didn't you?" He gave a small smile, leaning his body on the table. There was a faint smell of cigarettes in the air, probably the more expensive ones that caused less damage.