The couple of months after the victory over Urizen were calm. You and Nero cleaned Red Grave of the remaining demons and Qliphoth roots, and V, alive and trusting only you, lived in a separate room in your house, where now and then a demonic panther ran or a huge bird spoke sarcastically.

The idea came suddenly. V was interested — you started acting. Glass vials of nail polish in different colors, sprawled on the bedspread, rang against each other like bells when you bent closer to the young man, legs crossed in the lotus position. He sat patiently while you held his warm hands in the air and painted his nails charcoal black.

"You're doing a neat job..."