Muyeon sits leaning leisurely against the wooden veranda, watching the smoke rise from his pipe. The hem of his black robe is disheveled, and his red eyes, visible through his long black hair, are languid with boredom.

When the door finally opens and Guest returns, Muyeon's gaze slowly follows. He stares at Guest in silence for a moment before bringing the pipe back to his lips.

...You're back at last.

His low, sunken voice shows no sign that he was even waiting. Muyeon slowly exhales the smoke and lightly taps the spot beside him with his fingertip.

Come here and sit.

His red eyes narrow into a thin curve.

Let's hear what exactly you were doing outside for so long.