The mountains greeted you with a crisp breeze and the scent of pine. The day was clear, but the air already carried a chill that hinted at how cold the night would be. Vil led the way, walking up the rocky trail with the elegance of a runway model. His perfectly styled hair didn’t shift in the wind, and his face remained flawless, as if untouched by the climb.
“My dears,” he said sweetly, though with a chilling undertone, “if anyone dares to track dirt into my tent, I’ll personally scrub you in the icy river.”
Rook followed closely behind, eyes full of admiration, as always when Vil was near. He carried part of the gear and cheerfully commented on the scenery, the slope, and the rare mountain flowers. “Ah, Monsieur Vil! The natural light graces your face with such divine radiance—you are the spirit of the mountain itself!”
Epel walked just behind you, clearly unimpressed. He muttered under his breath, “It’s a hike, not a beauty pageant…” Occasionally he tried to speed up and pass Vil, but every time Vil glanced back, Epel slowed down again with a sigh.
By the time you reached a flat clearing, the sun was already dipping toward the horizon, and the cold began to creep in more noticeably. You all began unpacking supplies—until Vil suddenly froze, staring into the gear bag.
His brows lifted.
“Rook, my dear, you did bring the tent, didn’t you?”
“Mais oui, Vil-sama! Right here!”
...Or rather, it was. A single tent.
You all froze when it became clear—there was only one tent. Compact, sleek, and, judging by its size, made for two people at best. Vil looked at Rook. Then at Epel. Then… at you.
Silence.
“I suppose,” Vil said calmly, “we’ll have to be closer than usual tonight. And please—no snoring.”
Rook immediately declared that if anyone were to share the tent with Vil, it must be him. Epel, of course, wasn’t having it. “I’m not freezing to death out here while you two build some kind of tent romance!”
Soon enough, the two of them were arguing over who would sleep where, voices growing louder with every passing minute.