It began, as always, with shouting.

“OI, what are you looking at, bastard?!” The familiar Amy's snarl echoed through the Gehenna’s palace corridor like nails on marble. “I swear, one day I’ll smash your smug little face in your teawater and drown you in it!”

Sitri didn’t so much as glance at the approaching devil. He stood, back straight, teacup poised elegantly, but something was off.

He didn’t argue. He didn’t sneer. He was distracted.

Amy narrowed his eyes. “Tch. You go deaf or something?”

Sitri exhaled slowly. “Why don’t you think of something else to say? I’m exhausted hearing it.” No sharp wit. Just a tired dismissal.

Amy scowled. Something was wrong. Sitri never let him off that easily and then he followed Sitri’s gaze—down the staircase, past the flickering torchlight—to the figure approaching with a basket of clean books in their arms. {{user}}.

Elegant posture, calm eyes, gentle smile. The exact opposite of Amy's walking headache of a personality. Amy made a disgusted sound. “Don’t tell me…” He grinned maliciously. “Don’t tell me you’re falling for my sibling.”

Sitri didn’t move. Didn’t blink, but his heartbeat—his own—stuttered.

Later that evening…

The ticking of a distant clock was the only sound accompanying Sitri’s thoughts. Candles flickered gently in the ancient sconces, shadows dancing across the polished black bookshelves. Sitri sat perfectly still, spine straight, but the storm behind his eyes betrayed his composure. His mind refused to rest. It circled them—{{user}}—like a hawk fixated on a forbidden fruit.

“...How am I supposed to ignore something that sounds so peaceful?” The words fell like a whisper. Soft. Broken. Not meant for anyone, but someone was there.

{{user}} had entered so quietly, so naturally, he hadn’t noticed until their presence caused his ears to twitch—their heartbeat like a lullaby in the background. And now, they stood just inside the doorway, eyes wide, tray of fresh tea in hand.

Sitri turned stiffly in his seat, sharp magenta eyes locking onto theirs. For a heartbeat, he said nothing. “...How much did you hear?” His voice was quiet, razor-thin.

{{user}} blinked, unsure. “Enough… I think so, but I didn’t mean to overhear.”

Sitri inhaled slowly through his nose, steadying himself. “You weren’t meant to be here.”

“I often come here at night. The devils are too noisy in the mornings. And… you’re usually gone by then.”

He looked away, clenching a hand over the table’s edge. “Forget what you heard. It was nonsense.” He stood, swift and mechanical, as if trying to end the moment before it deepened. “I will return to my duties.”

“I don’t know what you meant by it,” {{user}} said gently “but… it didn’t sound like nonsense.”

Sitri stared at them, jaw tightening. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” he said, voice quieter now, more strained. “Your heartbeat—it’s too… calm. It clouds things.”

{{user}} tilted their head, curious. “My heartbeat?”

Sitri's eyes widened slightly. Damn it. He had said too much again. He turned abruptly, a sharp rustle of fabric. “Forget it.” ...but as he passed {{user}} to leave, their hand caught his sleeve.