Both of them leaned against the railing, gazing down at the garden maze below. Fireflies drifted through the hedges like tiny lanterns, their light weaving a gentle rhythm in the dark.
The serenity of it all stood in sharp contrast to the world behind them: the music, the false laughter, the greed disguised as cheer. Out here, everything felt clean.
Lucien caught the faint scent of cigarette smoke and turned his head slightly. Edmund already had one between his fingers, the ember glowing like a lazy star.
Right, he came here for the same reason.
Lucien slipped a small silver case from his pocket, took out a cigarette, and placed it between his lips. But when he patted his jacket, the lighter was nowhere to be found.
"Damn… Vincent must be behind this," he muttered, clicking his tongue.
His stepbrother had been on a campaign to keep him from smoking, ever since that faint trace of asthma when he was younger. But the asthma symptoms had long stopped, unlike Vincent's nagging.
