The alley was quiet, except for the faint hum of neon spilling from the bar’s sign. Uno slumped against the graffiti-stained wall, the brick cold against his back. His head hung low, too heavy to hold upright, and the taste of smoke clung bitterly to his tongue. 

The world swayed in and out of focus. Thought slipped through his mind like water through a sieve. He didn’t know if it was minutes or hours, only that the alcohol had dulled everything sharp inside him except the gnawing irritation still alive in his chest.

He suddenly heard faint footsteps.

Slow, unhurried. They stopped in front of him, close enough that their shadow stretched over his crumpled frame. Uno forced his eyes upward.

Of all people it had to be him.

The man he couldn’t stand, the one whose very presence scraped against his nerves. Yet here he was, standing over him with steady footing, looked untouched by drink but still smelled of alcohol.

Lev’s eyes lingered on him, calm and unreadable, but beneath that calm was something else. Curiosity, yes. But also something sharper, almost intrusive like he was seeing more than what was slumped against the wall.

Uno let out a rough sound, half a laugh and half a curse, but the cigarette trembled slightly between his fingers.

“…You don’t look drunk. They’ve been pouring you drinks back there.” he muttered, though the words came out thick, slurred, barely holding together.

Lev didn’t answer right away. He only looked at him, quiet and unblinking, as if deciding whether he was prey, puzzle, or both.

The alcohol chipped away at Uno’s control, loosening everything he tried to hold together. His tolerance wasn’t weak, but it wasn’t strong either and when the liquor finally surged through him, it knocked him off balance. His body tipped forward, collapsing toward Lev like a tower of blocks giving way.

Lev stopped him with nothing more than a single finger pressed lightly to his chest, holding him upright as if testing how fragile he really was. Tilting his head, Lev studied his face. Uno was completely out, slack and unmoving. If not for the faint trace of breath against the night air, Lev would have assumed the man was already dead.

Lev wasn’t sure if humans were simply too trusting, or just too eager to dump their problems on someone else. Either way, the moment he told the higher-ups in the bar that he’d take Uno home, they agreed without hesitation as if relieved to be rid of the responsibility.

The directions to Uno’s place were shoved into his hand almost instantly.

“Perfect timing! Everyone’s already half-dead from the booze. We’ve still got the rest to deal with, and Uno never crashes at the HA quarters anyway,” one of them said with a weary laugh.

Lev only gave a single nod.

He slipped away from the crowd, moving against the flow of people. Uno’s arm dangled over his shoulder, his body sagging like a broken marionette. Step by step, they vanished into the darker stretch of the alley until the streetlights couldn’t touch them anymore.

With a casual shift, Lev hefted Uno onto his shoulder as if he weighed nothing more than a coat. Then, without warning, the world blurred around them. Lev shot forward, vanishing into the night.

The hotel lobby was a cathedral of luxury. Amber-veined marble pillars rose toward a stained-glass dome, chandeliers dripping crystal light across handwoven carpets and polished stone. The air was hushed, dignified, broken only by the steady trickle of the fountain at its center.

Through this grandeur came Lev, steady as a shadow. Draped over his shoulder like an abandoned marionette was Uno. He hung like a discarded puppet, head lolling, breath heavy with liquor. His black jacket slid precariously.

The sight was enough to snare the room in silence. Conversations faltered. A waiter froze mid-step. Even the soft piano from the corner seemed to stumble on a note. Lev, slim and composed, hardly looked like someone built for brute strength, and yet he carried Uno across the velvet carpet as if he weighed no more than a coat tossed over his arm.

Behind the counter, the receptionist finally broke the spell. They stepped forward with a practiced smile that couldn’t quite mask their unease.

“Sir,” they said carefully, “would you… require assistance?”

Lev adjusted Uno higher on his shoulder as if he were shifting a sack of flour, expression cool and detached.

“This guy lives in the penthouse,” he said smoothly, almost like he was humoring a private joke. He slid Uno’s ID across the counter with casual precision.

The receptionist blinked, eyes darting between the card and the limp figure dangling like a broken marionette. Their VVIP? The one who owned the entire top floor?

Lev’s lips curved ever so slightly, a ghost of amusement flickered.

“O-Of course. The elevator is prepared for you at once.”

Without slowing, they moved toward the golden doors.

The private elevator closed with a soft chime, shutting out the stares of the lobby. Inside, velvet walls muffled the world, brass fittings gleamed, and a low hum filled the air as the lift began its slow climb.

Lev shifted Uno higher on his shoulder, the drunk man groaning faintly, words dragging out like gravel.

“…don’t… touch my jacket… it’s mine…” he slurred, head rolling uselessly against Lev’s back.

Lev’s eyes flicked upward to the dial above the door, watching the numbers tick higher. His expression didn’t change, though a faint trace of amusement curved at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re hardly in a position to fight over it,” he murmured, almost conversational.

Uno stirred again, hand twitching as though to claim something in a dream. “…penthouse… mine… all mine…” His declaration collapsed into a half-snore, breath thick with liquor.

The elevator hummed on, golden light spilling over them.

When the elevator finally slowed, the hush deepened, and with a soft chime the doors opened onto the highest floor.

“Home,” Uno mumbled, the word slurred but strangely certain, like instinct speaking for him. His hand fumbled until the key card slipped cleanly through the reader. With a muted click, the door yielded.

He staggered forward, legs moving without grace, carried more by memory than will. Like a puppet whose strings had nearly snapped, Uno swayed through the entryway until he dropped unceremoniously onto a vast sofa, limbs splayed, head lolling back.

Lev followed at his own pace, as if none of this spectacle concerned him in the slightest.

The penthouse was another world entirely. Space stretched wide and gleaming, walled in by floor-to-ceiling windows that opened onto the midnight skyline. The city sprawled below, its lights flickering like fallen stars, mirrored back in the glass alongside the faint glow of the interior.

Uno’s stubborn taste was etched into every detail. Thick imported rugs bled dark color over polished wood. A decanter of whiskey, half-drained, stood sentinel on a glass table beside abandoned crystal tumblers. Books slouched in uneven stacks on a velvet armchair, spines cracked, some left open mid-thought as if their reader had simply walked away. It was grandeur littered with carelessness….opulence bent beneath the weight of disorder.

Lev took it all in with an arched brow. Arthur’s little house was nothing compared to this.

Useless hydra, Lev thought. A sharp edge of mockery curling through his mind. Couldn’t even find a place like this.

He didn’t realize, of course, that on Earth, wealth wasn’t measured in cavern lairs or sunken ruins, and that even Arthur’s best efforts wouldn’t have bought him a fraction of this view.

Uno groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes, his words dissolving into incoherent mutters.

Lev loomed over him, expression unreadable. With two fingers, he prodded Uno’s face, tilting it left and right as if inspecting some fragile specimen.

He tilted his own head. “Should I just devour you right now?”

His arm shifted without warning, skin rippling into scaled flesh, a humanoid dragon limb replacing it. Claws traced lazily along Uno’s face, down the line of his throat, dragging faintly until they scraped his clavicle. The talon drifted lower, grazing across his chest, leaving a thin, deliberate scratch.

Uno groaned again but didn’t stir.

Lev’s mouth curved in faint amusement. “Nevermind. Where’s the fun in that?”

With a flex, the arm smoothed back into human skin, flawless, as if nothing had happened.

He walked around.

A half-open door drew his eye. Pale light spilled from within, a muted glow against the darker tones of the penthouse. Lev nudged it wider with the back of his hand and stepped inside.

The bathroom was vast. It was lavish to the point of absurdity. White marble sprawled beneath his feet, veined like frozen lightning, gleaming under recessed lights. At the far end, a bathtub loomed so large it could have been mistaken for a private pool, its rim sleek and polished, chrome fixtures glinting like ceremonial blades. His lips curved.

Uno stirred with a sudden jolt, the hangover still pounding in his skull. His tongue was thick, his head splitting, and for a moment the ceiling above him felt foreign until his memory returned in fragments.

The couch. The penthouse. The blur of last night’s liquor.

He groaned and checked the time. 5:30 a.m. Already too early for the pain in his head.

Then he heard it.

The sound of water.

A steady rush, distant but distinct, breaking the silence of his penthouse.

Uno sat up, squinting against the faint glow of dawn bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling windows. He rubbed at his face, muttered a curse, and forced himself to his feet. His steps were unsteady, but the sound pulled him forward until he reached the bathroom door.

And froze.

The massive tub, usually more ornament than utility, was filled to the brim, steam curling into the air like smoke. And there, draped against the smooth curve of the porcelain, was Lev.

His head tilted back. Eyes closed and motionless.

Like he’d been there for hours.

Uno’s eyes widened, heart lurching. He moved without thinking, hauling Lev’s limp form out of the water. The man was bare, skin slick with steam, unnervingly cold against Uno’s grip. He carried him to the bedroom, laid him out across the mattress, and without pause climbed above him as if to anchor him there.

Lev’s eyes cracked open slowly. His vision was blurry at first then sharpened until the first thing he saw was Uno’s face hovering above his, eyes blazing with fury and fear.

“Are you insane? Why the hell were you sleeping in the bathtub?!”