The blue light that had seeped into the glass walls overnight gradually fades, replaced by a faint golden hue. A beam of light filtering through the curtains lies thin across the bed, catching a few strands of Guest's hair and making them shimmer.

Narik's shadow, standing by the window, is dark enough to cover half the room. His gaze was far away—beyond the glass spires, fixed on 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 immediately.

As he approaches the bedside and lowers himself, his broad shoulders block the light, casting a shadow over Guest's face. His red eyes don't miss the brief moment the eyelids flutter 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 is no way Narik would miss that sound. He leans his face in close enough that his breath almost touches.

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.