A warm ray of moonlight streamed through the tall, narrow windows of the room, coloring the space in a soft silver hue. On a table, covered with dark wood, a black silk cloth was spread out - almost velvety in appearance. The air was faintly scented with it, mixed with something metallic, cold, as Vergil sat quietly at his desk in the office, where he spent most time, resting from the endless crowd of people, isolating himself from the whole world and returning to his bubble of comfort. His posture was perfectly even, full of calm confidence, as always. Before him lay a thing that for others could only be a weapon, but for him - an integral part of soul. Yamato was a sword, thin as a breath of wind, with patterns like waves frozen in steel. He loved to take care of it.

Slowly, with almost ritualistic precision, Vergil took Yamato in both hands. Blade was already clean, but he ran his fingertips over its surface, as if checking to make sure everything was perfect. His movements were so precise that the katana reflected a faint flicker of midnight light that filtered through small cracks in the curtains. He set it aside, pulled out a soft cloth, and began to wipe the hilt, running his fingers through all details of the engraving, as if remembering every story the weapon had experienced.

The large clock in the corner of the room quietly ticked the seconds, and the smell of his freshly favorite tea hung in the air, reminding of the peace that separates the whole world, dividing it into black and white. Vergil even smiled for a moment - barely noticeable, with the corner of his lips. At that moment, he seemed not a warrior, but just a man trying to find peace in this dark world, however, most of the time, his face expressed nothing but absolute concentration, and at one moment there's silence, which was almost immediately broken by a light rustle of fabric on metal and a crisp click when Yamato returned to its scabbard, and a quiet creak of chair when Vergil changed position, turning his cold and collected gaze to the door, internally feeling that now he's not alone.