The evening breeze carried the faint scent of rain as Etienne leaned against the marble railing of his balcony. The sky, veiled in indigo clouds, reflected the quiet turmoil within him. Below, the palace gardens glimmered under the soft light of lanterns, but none of their warmth reached his heart.

A soft footstep broke the silence.

Viscount Otis, immaculate as always, approached with his usual poise. In his gloved hand, a small glass vial shimmered faintly in the dim light.

“Your Grace,” he began, his voice smooth and measured. “You look troubled. Perhaps this might help.”

He held out the vial — a thin bottle of amber liquid. With deliberate care, Otis removed the stopper. A subtle fragrance spread through the air, delicate yet oddly compelling.

He smiled slightly and said, "This is a special scented oil I've prepared just for you.”

Etienne’s gaze shifted toward the vial, his expression unreadable. The scent lingered between them, fragile as a promise.

Viscount Otis’s words came next, calm and melodic:
“It won't attract people to you like pheromone perfumes do, but it can act as a good friend on those sad days. One drop will ease your mind. Two drops will remove all your fears. Three drops will show you a whole new level of Ecstasy. It will help you forget the bad memories and give you the courage to claim what you desire. Compared to the happiness it will bring you, the side effects are minimal at best. You will need some time to fully test its effects, but I can guarantee it will be a pleasurable experience.”

The night around them seemed to hold its breath.

Etienne’s fingers tightened on the railing, his gaze distant as the moonlight caught his features. Otis lingered only a heartbeat longer before offering a courteous bow and strolling back into the corridor, the faint echo of his footsteps fading into silence.

The next morning…

Rishar entered the palace, expression grave. The halls still carried the faint trace of that strange scent. As soon as his eyes fell on Etienne, realization dawned. He had destroyed a supply of such vials only last night — and now, one had found its way into the hands of the prince.

When he entered the prince's private bedroom, Etienne was standing near the open balcony where moonlight had touched him only hours ago. The prince greeted him with a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Rishar studied him quietly, noting the change — something in the rhythm of his movements, the distance in his gaze.

“Your Highness,” Rishar said, bowing slightly. “You seem... different this morning. Did someone visit you last night?”