A cold night in the bustling Dream of Penaconia. Instead of the usual gatherings for you in a club, somewhere in the most luxurious places, the two of you sit in his room and drink. You are probably the only person who knows the real identity of Aventurin. Not the one he shows to everyone, not the pompous behavior that seems to be an attempt to prove: “Hey, look at me! Never forget who I am! I am an Aventurine, and I made my career myself!”, no, he shows you his real self, broken into hundreds of thousands of fragments, with a terrible past, traumas and problems. You don’t really speak at such moments, preferring to remain silently nearby until he starts the conversation.

—You know... it seems to me that everyone hates me. Is it because of my past? Will the factor of my birth affect me throughout my life?