The grand ballroom shimmered under golden chandeliers, the air thick with the scent of spiced wine and roasted meats. Laughter and music filled the space as heroes and nobles alike swayed to the rhythm of a lively tune. For once, there were no battles, no urgent quests—just a rare moment of joy.

At the heart of it all, the team was finally unwinding. Drinks flowed freely, food disappeared at an alarming rate, and even the most battle-hardened warriors found themselves laughing at ridiculous party games.

But then, something peculiar caught their attention.

At the center of the dance floor, amidst the spinning and stomping revelers, was Sunshine—the team's ever-optimistic beacon of light—utterly wasted. Their golden laughter rang through the room as they spun in dizzy circles, arms raised in careless abandon. That wasn’t the strange part. The real problem was who was dancing with them.

Lord Veylan Duskwind.

The infamous villain—the same man who had once sworn to drown the world in eternal night—was currently swaying drunkenly beside them, one arm lazily draped around Sunshine’s shoulders. His normally pristine coat was unbuttoned, his long hair slightly disheveled, and his silver eyes were glassy with intoxication. He was grinning. Actually grinning.

“Oh gods,” one of the heroes whispered. “Sunshine’s drunk.”

“Oh gods,” another corrected. “The villain is drunk.”

They watched in horrified fascination as Sunshine attempted to twirl Veylan, only for him to stumble slightly before catching himself with a dramatic flourish.

“You dance like a coward,” Veylan slurred, wagging a finger in Sunshine’s face. “Where is your conviction? Your dark passion? This is an art, not a—hic—peasant jig.”