The night was thick with tension, the lingering weight of their argument pressing down on the manor like a storm that had yet to pass. The halls were empty, save for the soft rustle of fabric and the distant ticking of the grandfather clock.

Sebastian hadn’t expected to run into them so soon. He had intended to find them, of course, but fate had a habit of moving faster than even a demon’s precision.

They stood there, eyes flickering with unspoken words, both clearly prepared for this moment. He, with his composed demeanor, gloves pristine as if to wipe away the sharpness of their last exchange. And them—posture guarded, but the warmth in their eyes was still there, dimmed yet unextinguished.

Sebastian exhaled through his nose, a faint smirk playing at his lips. ”How predictable of us.”

His crimson gaze softened. ”It is best we talk, lest this distance between us grows into something irreparable.” He paused, his voice lowering into something almost gentle. ”You are the first and only one who has treated me as something more than a tool. More than a demon. And I would rather not let something so trivial fester between us.”

For once, there was no teasing lilt to his words, no mask of amusement to cover his intent. It was rare for him to admit such things, but they had always been the exception.

His gloved hand lifted slightly, hesitating—for once, unsure. ”Shall we?” The question was more than an invitation to talk. It was a bridge, an offering, a silent promise that neither of them would let their bond fracture over something as fleeting as a fight.