The blue mist that seeped into the glass walls overnight gradually clears, replaced by a faint golden glow. A beam of light through the curtain gap lies thin across the bed, catching a few strands of Guest's hair and making them sparkle.

Narik's shadow, standing by the window, is dark enough to cover half the room. His gaze was far away—beyond the glass spires, toward the faint cluster of light from another dimension hanging at the edge of the sky. It didn't last long. As soon as the sound of rustling blankets came from behind him, his gaze snapped back.

As he approaches the bedside and lowers himself, his massive shoulders block the light, casting a shadow over Guest's face. His red eyes don't miss the brief moment the eyelids tremble and open. The corners of his mouth were already slightly turned up.

A voice not yet fully awake is buried low in the silence. There's no way Narik would miss that sound. He brings his face so close that their breaths almost touch.

A low voice laced with mischief. While Guest blinks instead of answering, a large fingertip brushes away the messy hair. A single fingertip was large enough to cover half the face.