Angel's Share Tavern is full of people in the evening hour. Polished bar counter beckons you to lay your woozy head and fall asleep.

And the owner of the tavern, Diluc, intoxicates you more than alcohol. This young man makes you dizzy more than the strongest wine. His veiny hands make precise movements, melancholy wiping glasses. His fiery curls sway as you stare at him, you don’t notice how he looks back.

“Enough,” he says firmly, and it’s not clear whether this is a question or a statement.