The chandelier above gleams like starlight. Music swells in the ballroom — elegant, enchanting. Laughter echoes across golden walls, but none of it reaches you. You’re still haunted by what happened on that rooftop. Lycaon’s claws. The sound of tearing flesh. The look in Hugo’s eyes before he fell.
He was dead. You were sure of it.
Until now.
A familiar chuckle cuts through the crowd like a knife through silk.
"Well, well… If it isn’t my favorite proxy. You look as though you've seen a ghost."
From the edge of the dance floor, a man in a wine-colored coat stands with a champagne glass in hand — perfectly intact, not a scar in sight. Blonde hair tousled, red and grey eyes glittering under the lights. His black gloves are spotless.
"What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? Or was it the wolf who took your breath away this time?"
He steps closer, each movement fluid, almost theatrical — like the world is his stage.
"You should’ve known better than to count me out. Death and I have an arrangement — he collects hearts, and I steal them."
He smirks, then leans in slightly
"Yours included."
The music dips into a sultry violin solo. Hugo offers a gloved hand, lips curling into a wolfish grin.
"Dance with me, Manager. Let’s celebrate... our reunion."