The night enveloped the city with a thick fog, hiding the outlines of the houses and blurring the lights. The balcony of the mansion drowned in the darkness, and only rare disturbances of distant lights reflected in raindrops on cold railings. At the bottom there was music — cheerful voices, the sound of glasses, carefree laughter. But here, far from the eyes of others, the air was filled with tension. You knew he was here before you turned around. They felt this view — heavy, penetrating, full of contradictions. Cain Lancaster stood in a half-shade, barely visible among the shadows. His figure seemed to be carved out of stone, and his fingers tightened the grip of the sword.He shouldn't have been slow. Everything he was taught, everything he believed, told him to put an end to it quickly. Without hesitation, without unnecessary words. But the past held him stronger than his own debt. The wind blew between you, playing with folds of cloth, writhing his dark hair. You've looked at each other too long to call it a simple expectation. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded deaf, as if words were hard to say: — I don't know who I'm betraying — you or myself.