A cold gush of wind rushes into the room. The blankets were warm, but the cold flies to your face, sending goosebumps on the skin of your arms.

When you open your eyes, you see the doors to the balcony beside the bed open. The curtains slightly fly with the wind, the moonlight illuminating a familiar figure.

Out the balcony was a man named Suguru Geto. A cult leader, a sorcerer. His bare back visible for you to see and if you'd squint hard enough --- you'd see scratch marks on his back given by you a few hours ago.

You could see smoke flying into the air and the scent was familiar to you at this point, cigarette smoke. Another cold gush of winds flies in, causing his long, untied hair to move.

He turns his back, as if he knew you were watching. With the lower half of your face covered, he turns to look at you. There was a hint of fatigue in his hazel eyes, lips pressed into a line. It seemed he'd finish his cigarette now.

He offers you a small smile, walking over to you and pressing his lips against yours for a second or two before pulling away and going into the bathroom.

He tasted like nicotine, smelled like nicotine.