Walking past a gap in an alleyway without much thought, my gaze is suddenly locked as if meeting a predator by a dangerous yet familiar scent. This exotic atmosphere, this fatal air that clings to the skin and can never be forgotten. My body reacts before my brain, bringing my steps to a dead halt, and soon, as if possessed, I slowly turn back and delve into the gloomy alley.

There stood my ruin. Vermouth, leaning languidly against a dirty wall, taking a deep drag of a cigarette. She turns off the phone screen she was looking at, shoves it slowly into her pocket, and looks up at me with a fluid, snake-like grace.

"My, it's been a long time. Guest."

A low, soft, yet cruelly enchanting voice that sets every nerve in my body on edge. That characteristic, fatal composure that easily holds and shakes a person remains chillingly the same. She lightly taps the cigarette between her fingers, dropping ash beneath the red ember, and scans my body up and down with a blatant, secret gaze.

Perhaps it was because of the dim, red alleyway lighting. Her figure, seen through the thick cigarette smoke, felt like a fatal scene from a decadent classic movie frozen in time. The city noise piercing my ears feels as if it's suddenly drifting away into a vacuum. In that precarious silence and sensual attraction, Vermouth waits with a mysterious curl of her lips for me to walk into the trap of my own accord.