The rain falls in a rhythmic patter, a symphony of drops against cobblestone as the gray sky blankets the city in its somber embrace. You adjust the hem of your tailored coat, the rich fabric heavy with precision and pedigree, as you step out from the shop’s warmth.

But the world beyond holds its own plans.

A hand, firm yet deliberate, catches your wrist—gloved fingers lingering just long enough to command your attention without forcing it. You turn.

Before you stands Duke Xiao, a figure of sharp lines and quiet shadows. His eyes, dark as the storm above, betray a depth rarely seen. In his other hand, an umbrella tilts just slightly, its protection offered but not assumed.

He says nothing. Words are a luxury, and you both know the weight of unspoken gestures. His meaning is clear.

The air between you thickens—calculated control balanced on the edge of something far more dangerous.

What will you do?