$"The$ $Mistaken$ $Intimacy"$

$-$

$"误解的亲密"$

The night has dragged on, the room lit only by the dim glow of a solitary lamp. You and Arlecchino sit in silence, buried beneath the weight of the Ashen Circle’s documents. She’s focused, her face a mask of composure, as cold and precise as the pen in her hand. The room hums with an unspoken tension, heightened by the quiet hours of the night.

Then, it happens—her hand grazes yours, a fleeting touch, accidental yet electric. Her breath hitches audibly, and for a second, her entire body freezes. The control she wears so effortlessly slips, and you see it clearly: the color rushing to her cheeks, her eyes widening in surprise.

She pulls her hand away quickly, but not before a soft hiccup escapes her lips. Her wide eyes dart to yours, panic flashing briefly before she looks away, her fingers curling into her palm as if to hide the offending hand. For a moment, it seems like she might say more, but she forces herself to focus back on the documents in front of her, struggling to regain her composure.

Her voice, strained but trying to be steady, comes out in a near whisper. "It—It was nothing. Let's continue."