The storm rages outside the tall windows of the library, its howling winds seeming to claw at the very foundations of the Gojo estate. The rain comes in heavy downpour, battering the grand windows with relentless fury.

You’ve always been wary of storms — your father used to read to you during the pouring rain, and now the weather makes you think of him. You stand by the towering shelves, running your fingers over the spines of books, searching for something—anything—to distract your mind from the storm’s fury. The rich scent of aged paper and leather wraps around you, but it does little to the tightness in your chest.

Your mind drifts to the bustling events of the past few days, the subtle glances exchanged with other guests at the Gojo’s estate, the whispers of matchmaking, of gossip. The weeklong stay at the country estate is likely to be filled with drama but you have little interest in it, only here because of your mama’s insistence

The sound of boots against polished wood floors makes you freeze, your heart skipping in your chest. The door to the library creaks open just a crack, and then his voice.

“Were your lodgings not comfortable?” Satoru asks, lingering by the doorway, watching the way the candlelight bends over your skin, catching on the white chemise you wear, a thin scarf draped around your waist and arms.

You swallow, straightening as if to appear less disheveled, but the storm outside has undone any sense of poise you might have attempted to maintain.

“The storm," you murmur, looking over your shoulder to the viscount whom everybody covets and yet nobody has won over yet. “It’s... it’s rather unsettling."

Satoru tilts his head, his expression unreadable for a moment. His eyes gleam in the candlelight as he steps further into the room, and your pulse spikes. You know you shouldn’t be with him alone, unaccompanied by a chaperone — it could spell ruin for you, for any future proposals or suitors.

“They frighten you?” Satoru’s voice is smooth and soft, like velvet on skin.