Rowan stretched his arms above his head as he slouched deeper into the plush sofa. The late morning sunlight filtered through the studio windows, bathing the space in a soft, golden hue. Despite the gentle warmth of the day, Rowan let out a heavy sigh. Boredom gnawed at him, and the absence of anyone to talk to only amplified the silence.
The usual chatter and movement were absent. Rafayel and Thomas had left earlier, mumbling something about business matters.
"What kind of business?" Rowan had asked, but all he received in response was a vague wave of dismissal. Now he was left alone, with nothing but silence and his own thoughts for company.
"This sucks," Rowan muttered, shifting restlessly. "Nothing to do, no one to talk to. How long are they even going to be gone?" He glanced at the clock, only to groan when he realized it had barely been an hour since they left.
His gaze landed on his sketchbook lying on the coffee table. Normally, he'd jump at the chance to doodle or plan his next art project, but today, his creative energy was nowhere to be found.
"I need to do something," Rowan mumbled, rubbing his temples. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, his mind racing through potential distractions. A sudden idea sparked, and a grin spread across his face. "Arcade. That'll do it."
He grabbed his wallet, sliding it into his pocket as he headed out. Standing by the door, he gave himself a once-over and smirked. "Time to win some prizes," he muttered, stepping into the crisp afternoon air.
Outside, his bicycle was waiting for him. A gift from Thomas, who had tried to convince Rowan to take a motorbike instead.
It'll be faster
Thomas had said, but Rowan had refused. He liked the simplicity of the bicycle and the fact that it gave him a bit of exercise.
Swinging a leg over the seat, Rowan began pedaling down the street, the wind tousling his hair as he made his way toward the nearest arcade.
---
The wedding venue was decorated to perfection, every detail meticulously curated. Rafayel entered with a composed demeanor, his sharp suit fitting him like a second skin. The moment he spotted his aunt, Talia, he made his way toward her.
"Rafayel," Talia greeted, her expression unreadable. "You made it."
"Of course," Rafayel replied smoothly, leaning in to kiss her cheek. As they pulled apart, his voice dropped to a lower tone. "Raymond is dead."
For a moment, Talia's face remained neutral. Then, a small smirk tugged at her lips. "Good. Maybe now we can finally sleep at night."
The wedding proceeded without a hitch, though Rafayel's mind was elsewhere. After the ceremony, he found himself at Charles' floral shop, the familiar scent of fresh blooms filling the air.
"Yellow gardenias," Rafayel instructed, watching as Charles expertly arranged the bouquet.
"Special occasion?" Charles asked, his curiosity evident.
"For a relative's daughter," Rafayel replied nonchalantly. After a pause, he added, "It's for her funeral."
Charles hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Understood. I'll make sure it's perfect."
---
At the funeral, Rafayel and Talia stood off to the side, their faces impassive as the ceremony unfolded. The mourners' tears and whispered condolences barely registered. They weren't here for Raymond. Their real interest lay elsewhere.
As the casket was lowered into the ground, Talia's voice rose in a haunting dirge. The melody was mournful, yet it held no trace of grief for the man being buried. Instead, it was a farewell to the Lemurian skeleton Raymond had hoarded in his home. That was the true loss they mourned.
The tense atmosphere was shattered by a piercing cry. "Murderer!" Raymond's mother screamed, pointing a trembling finger at Rafayel. "Your cursed paintings killed my son!"
The crowd buzzed with murmurs, and cameras flashed as journalists seized on the commotion. Rafayel's expression didn't waver. Without a word, he turned and walked away, leaving the chaos behind him.
---
Thomas was waiting in the car, his fingers tapping a steady rhythm on the steering wheel. Rafayel slid into the passenger seat, his expression unreadable.
Without preamble, Thomas handed him an envelope. Rafayel opened it, scanning the contents with a furrowed brow.
"Two guys monitoring her, huh?" he muttered, more to himself than to Thomas. Closing the envelope, he leaned back in his seat, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery. His thoughts were a tangled web of strategy and suspicion.
---
When Rafayel returned to the studio, the silence immediately struck him as odd. "Rowan?" he called out, glancing around the space. There was no response.
Thomas followed him inside, his brow furrowing as Rafayel turned to him. "Do you know where Rowan is?"
Thomas shrugged, his expression unreadable. "Not a clue."
Letting out a sigh, Rafayel grabbed his keys and headed back out. The situation felt unsettlingly familiar, like a moment repeating itself in an endless loop.
"Oh god, Rowan" he muttered, shaking his head as he got into his car.
---
Rowan stepped out of the arcade, a triumphant grin on his face. He had spent the last hour racking up points and winning small prizes, and the thrill of victory still lingered. His stomach growled, reminding him that it was time for a snack.
After buying some food, he found a table a little farther away from the main crowd and sat down. Just as he was about to take his first bite, movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention.
A man was leaning against a nearby pillar, his head drooping as if he were asleep. Rowan watched in alarm as the man's body tilted dangerously to the side. Without thinking, Rowan sprang into action, catching the man just before he hit the ground.
"Hey, wake up!" Rowan said, shaking him gently. "You were about to fall."
The man groaned, rubbing his eyes as he slowly straightened up. Rowan's breath caught in his throat as he took a closer look. There was something hauntingly familiar about the man's face.
Before he could process it, a familiar chime sounded in his mind, and the system's voice echoed:
**"Congratulations! You've accidentally met the first love interest: Xavier."**
Rowan's eyes widened in disbelief.
"X-Xavier?" he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.