Warmth lulled her. Her body stretched out somewhere in the distance, while the world drew an endless black behind her eyelids. Consciousness returned to reality only slowly, detaching itself from the blackness and pushing its surroundings subliminally into the foreground.

A light breeze caressed her skin as the scent of another lingered in the air. Mint, yet sweeter than she knew. A smell she wanted to follow because it was foreign, yet it awakened memories she didn't want with her in those seconds.

She had to be careful.

Instantly, she opened her eyes to look straight into the face of Chrollo, whose calm still lingered. Only slowly did Soleil exhale, trying to calm the throbbing in her chest as she watched the relaxed face of the man who didn't quite fit into her world. His black hair stood out wildly in places, his lips were parted a narrow gap, and the peace that emanated from him was real. Seeing him sleep like that made him unthreatening, and gave him the features of a boy much younger than she was, though that probably wasn't true at all.

And for a single blink, she dared to wonder what he was dreaming about.

Barely noticeably, Soleil pulled the duvet a little higher, not taking her eyes off Chrollo for a moment. She had already felt his body while dancing and knowing he was with her in bed carried the same sensation. With him, she wasn't alone. At his side, so close, it seemed safe. She was sheltered. In the arms of a man she didn't even know, of all people.

Yet he worked that magic, that pleasant feeling of fitting in. It was only an assignment, a mission she would be paid for, but it couldn't be wrong to let the illusion be fragile reality for a moment longer. Just until he woke up and the construct collapsed.

It was a good feeling.

Until Chrollo opened his eyes.

Eyelids fluttering, he let the daylight blind him as if it were dazzling compared to the darkness of his dreams. His gaze seemed clouded by the morning sleepiness that neither startled nor spurred him on. Even his attention was so low that his eyes looked through Soleil until he broke away from her and slowly sat up.

One of his hands ran over his face, rubbing the sleep away and bringing him a little closer to the world so that a sigh escaped him. The muscles at his back twitched, seemed tense and seemed to harden under the tattoo of a black spider topped with a zero as Soleil sat up.

The rustle of the duvet made him look at her in the same breath.

"Good morning," Soleil whispered, almost as if they weren't alone in the room.

Chrollo looked at her for a moment longer before putting on a thin smile. "Good morning."

It was all he had left for her before he peeled himself out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Soleil watched him go, clinging to him in thought until the door slammed shut. Loneliness was left behind, combined with the chirping of early birds that accompanied the day in full sound.

Another day when they would put on a play that had to be believed – even if Chrollo wasn't the best actor.

Only slowly did Soleil push herself out of bed. Listlessness overcame her. The beautiful seconds had passed far too quickly, had taken peace with them and possessed no button to stop.

Hastily, she shook her head. None of that mattered. There was no need for constantly beautiful moments in life when she would have much better days later. In addition, Chrollo wasn't a man she could pay too much attention to. He was smart. And everything he did could be part of a strategy. Attentiveness was paramount and showing weakness because perhaps not everything in life went according to plan was out of the question.

More determined than before, she shed her sleeping clothes to squeeze into one of the uncomfortable dresses and fix her hair – just in time as Chrollo came out of the bathroom. Wordlessly, she traded places with him, following the morning routine and splashing a little more cold water on her face than usual.

She had to wake up and prove her worth. Show that she could do more than undress.

When she came out of the bathroom, Chrollo was already sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting. Leaning forward and propped up on his legs, his gaze seemed to reach into the distance from which she snapped him with too-loud footsteps.

"What's the plan?" Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she waited, not letting his thoughtful expression get too close, hoping for a passable answer. Something she could understand; that would let her in and make her a real accomplice instead of a puppet.

"We will go to the vault today," he opened to her. No elaborate plan. No doubts. Just the one point that was on his agenda.

"Weren't you going to make sure people bought your act first, so as not to provoke attention?"

His eyelids lowered slightly. "I am not a good actor. But there are other ways to get what you want."

Simple words she couldn't believe. He had said it himself. One mistake and what he wanted would no longer be gettable. Added to that, the masked ones wouldn't just accept that their master was dead, and she was a tiny bit responsible.

Without further ado, Chrollo pulled himself to his feet before offering her his arm. They would go together – of course.

Soleil spared herself further questions and grasped the proffered arm, only to feel its warmth against her chest. It seemed as if it would penetrate to her skin within seconds, dedicating the tingling behind it, the nervousness, solely to him. Perhaps it was. Her nervousness was due to him and his plan that would kill them both if it went wrong.

Together they entered the hallway, close together, in perfect unison, as if they had finally overcome their differences. Up to the lower corridor, every metre seemed easy. Completely carefree in the face of the situation they knew was ahead of them. But Chrollo's calm was also a part of her in those seconds. As if everything they planned would work as long as they cooperated.

At least the thought lasted until a masked figure scurried past them. The only thing Soleil caught sight of in time was the pink mop of hair before Chrollo bumped into them, knocking Soleil off balance. In those seconds, unable to bear his weight, she stumbled sideways against one of the ghastly paintings and, as she tried to keep herself on her feet, felt the frame detach itself from the wall.

In the same breath, Chrollo forced her to the floor, sending Soleil crashing onto her bottom as he leaned protectively over her and the painting fell down. The jolt went through his body, reaching her too, underlining the mood with the breaking of wood.

Then wetness splotched on Soleil's cheek.

Her eyes shot over Chrollo's face, attaching themselves to the blood running down his hairline and dripping onto her in thick, red drops. Her heart beat faster. Breath rushed over her lips as he simply looked at her. There was calm in his eyes. Tranquillity that wanted to tell her something. Probably he wanted to avoid her saying his name.

Fortunately for him, every word caught in her throat. The shock subsided, slowly and gently, as assistants moved the painting aside and helped Chrollo to his feet.

When they reached out to her, only a weary smile remained. In Illumi's face, she had done well, though she had been more afraid than truly courageous. This situation was different. The unease inside burned as she glanced at Chrollo. Someone had handed him a cloth to dry the injury and stop the blood.

And that was where the difference lay.

Imagining someone getting hurt was easy because it was fiction. It wasn't real. But Chrollo was. He was standing there, right next to her, and the cloth in his hands had red stains on it. It looked more serious than Illumi's attack, which had startled her but not woken her from the absurd trance of adrenaline.

"Are you all right?" Cautiously, she took a step closer to Chrollo. "Is the pain ... bad?"

A thin smile found its way onto his lips before he tilted his head slightly. "Just a headache. But who put that useless picture there, anyway?"

He fell back into the role he was supposed to play, and yet something seemed different. Whatever he was planning, she stayed out of it. The servants fitted better into this game, jumping straight to their master's question.

"That was you, master," answered one of the silver masks. "You are sure you are well?"

Without understanding, Chrollo looked at the young lad. "Who are you? And why aren't you at work?"

"But master ... you ... just ..." The boy gestured helplessly with his arms before Soleil clapped her hands.

"Can't you see there's a problem? Call a doctor!"

They obeyed without hesitation. They didn't question the problem, although everyone had to know that it usually took harder things to summon memory loss. Especially when it was selective. But fear prevailed and their master's well-being was the top priority. If a minor injury left such damage, they had to believe it.

Still, Soleil glanced in Chrollo's direction. He still kept the cloth pressed on the wound but waited as if he didn't really notice all this. As if he was just a spectator of a play in which his body was nothing more than a pawn.

"Are you all right?" The question left her lips faster than she could decide against it, so Chrollo's attention moved in her direction.

"I'm fine."

She didn't even know if he was lying or telling the truth. His expression remained so stiff that anything could have been possible. So Soleil sighed, accepted his answer and watched as a young woman came rushing around the corner. It was only in front of Chrollo that she paused.

"I heard what happened. You remember me?" Her voice quivered. The narrow face with the hooked nose twisted at the sight of the cloth in his hands.

"You are my doctor," Lucilfer returned dryly. Archihilles' role still didn't suit him, but his effort was working.

"Tell me what you ate today."

He actually seemed to think before shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know."

"What's your guinea pig's full name?"

"Scarlet?" He raised his brows, looking honestly confused, and Soleil couldn't help but think he was playing some parts of his role a little too well.

"What were you up to when you came down here?" Almost in hope, the doctor folded her hands in front of her chest. Her short brown hair fell straggly forward.

Chrollo, meanwhile, turned his gaze to Soleil before smiling again. "I wanted to go to the vault with Hiira."

"But that's no longer important," Soleil declined. Jumping on the wagon and rushing him would arouse suspicion. She had to think like a loving wife. "We can go another time when you're feeling better."

"But I promised you," Chrollo replied. "And this is nothing more than a minor concussion. It isn't an obstacle that will prevent me from granting you your wish. You are so patient and kind to me. You deserve to get what you want." Carefully, he placed a hand on her cheek. "I love you too much to be stopped."

Her saliva found its way down her throat, far too dry. He was just playing this damn part, but the way he looked at her, his touch – it almost felt real. And though it shouldn't matter, her heart beat a little faster as her chest tightened painfully. The only people who had ever confessed their love to her had been the men at the club. Some had shouted it to her when she had undressed. But never, not once, had anyone meant it.

It was no different with Chrollo and it was distressing to know that all she would probably ever get were empty words.

Her gaze lowered before she took a step back to escape Chrollo's touch. "You're having trouble remembering. Do you even know the answers to the questions anymore?"

"Maybe. And if I don't, you know them." He sounded far too confident with his assumption. Clear enough to turn even the doctor away.

"It doesn't seem too serious to me. But please take it easy and if the pain gets worse, please call me. Otherwise, at least rest in the living room for a few minutes. Just to be on the safe side." With a curt bow and a clear recommendation, this stranger dismissed her patient and turned on her heel – as if she were nothing more than a petty puppet who had played all her cards.

That left Soleil alone with Chrollo. His gaze still rested on her, but all she had left was a sigh.

"We should obey," she threw at him, toneless and sombre, before simply scurrying past him. Ahead, away from his nearness, his mere presence, into the lounge where two servants had settled in the corners.

She dropped on the sofa with momentum, watched as Chrollo followed and found a seat next to her. But he went on, making moves to lie down, so Soleil had to move far enough for his head to fit comfortably in her lap.

And she accepted.

Half in thought, she ran a hand through his black hair, careful to avoid the injury. Probably, in those seconds, they were the perfect couple. Exactly the image one expected of Archihilles and Lady Hiira.

Chrollo's hair was soft, shimmering under the artificial light emanating from the chandeliers. It distracted Soleil and only snapped her back to the present when a hand was placed on her cheek. Instantly she followed the touch, turning her attention downwards to where Chrollo was looking up at her.

His endearment and the thoughtful expression in his gaze suited a man like him, but they didn't match the words that left his lips like a dream.

"What's wrong?" His lids lowered a little. "An expression like that doesn't suit a woman as pretty as you."

They weren't alone. To send the two masked men in the room away again would raise suspicion. All that was left for them was the lovers' communication.

"Is anything not going as you imagined?" There was no unease in his voice, no worry, and yet the question alone was enough to throw all that into the room.

She hesitated, taking her time to find suitable words. The plan no longer had any meaning in those seconds. She could only improvise anyway. What gnawed at her were the days after this action. The moments when she would be alone again, perhaps to make a mistake. She had told Hell – someday they would have to find a job that had nothing to do with dancing. One day, they would be too old for it and they would no longer be able to sell themselves.

She had to reach for a future that was terribly foreign and yet would be a part of her. Some lousy idea of something that others had built and in whose role she had never fitted.

Then she thought of Archihilles. Of his magic that had made him into anyone he wanted to be – and she had a question.

"Your magic... Are there other people who can cast spells?"

This time, Chrollo closed his eyes for a full moment before giving her an answer. "Yes. Some. And each possesses a different magic trick. But mine is the best, I must add."

He didn't seem convinced, couldn't convey Archihilles' arrogance nearly as well as the original, and yet the shadows in the corners seemed content with the situation.

"Can I learn to do that too?"

"Many can," he replied. "It has something to do with your life force."

"Sounds magical indeed." Again Soleil glanced at the chandeliers. Maybe she could learn magic too. If she could find the time to look into it and perceive the world with a smile.

Barely noticeably, her gaze drifted back to Chrollo, whose interest was on her. The grey of his eyes shone amber as a thin, yet genuine smirk crept across his lips.

"What is it?" She raised her brows.

"You are a very odd woman," he returned. "You help a stranger without clear knowledge of him, as if you fear nothing at all."

She pursed her lips. "I am very confident in my right. At the worst, I know how to defend myself."

The smirk became a short, shallow laugh that barely left his lips and yet captivated her. He was indeed a handsome man whose facade must have hidden as much as hers.

Eternity seemed to pass between them, fading into long oblivion, while she could hardly take her eyes off him and the pleasant tingle in her chest left a pleasant hint of togetherness. But reality quickly caught up with her as another masked individual entered and knocked softly on the doorframe.

Instantly, Chrollo sat up, one brow raised in anticipation.

"How are you, master?"

"Splendid."

"Then please carry on with your day and don't take the vault's questions too hard. The guard has already been told what happened and, of course, it is all right for Lady Hiira to answer questions in your presence." Briefly, the servant bowed before turning away and disappearing.

With that, time broke between her and Chrollo.

He rose to offer her his hand and though Soleil suppressed a sigh, she hesitated to take his hand. She would have preferred a few more minutes. A little more time to be honest and get to know this still stranger a little better.

But all that remained was for her to accept his proffered hand and hook herself under his arm so they could stay close. Then she followed him, straight to the library, where the corridor downstairs awaited her.

The steps led her down into the large room where only an old man stood guard outside a large door. A man she had met and who probably still didn't know that she wasn't the real Hiira.

When he saw her, he waved joyfully, his gums bared. "Welcome back, Lady Hiira. And I see the master is accompanying you this time."

"I am back, Hachibald," Soleil replied softly, before pointing at Chrollo. But he simply waved her off.

"I know, I know." The old man tapped his head. "Had an accident. But it's not a problem. The master is here and you can answer the questions. That's all it takes. And I must confess, I am glad for that." He put a hand on his chest. "Back then, the master would never have told you the answers. You always had to wear headphones. It's nice to see that you seem like lovers now. Trust is very important."

Probably Hiira hadn't led a happy life with Archihilles. The fact she had sometimes just been on the run from everything and everyone, looking for hiding places, somehow made her a sad girl. Constantly trying to escape from her lover, who hardly spoke to her and used her as a face for the masses.

Who knew what had really killed her?

"Now then, let's get to the questions." The old man held out a small tablet for her to enter a four-digit number.

The sight made the surroundings hot, and the throbbing in her chest made her breath catch. Numbers were cruel enemies. Horrible enough not to make her look up. Instead, she went over all the things Archihilles had told her about. Little details. But the only thing she knew was that he had doted on his guinea pig.

Sherry.

Sherry, for whose birthday he had planned.

Hesitantly, her fingers typed in the day and month Sherry would turn a year older before she pressed the green button. The green bar that lit up moments later made her breathe a sigh of relief.

"And what is Sherry's third name?"

It was indeed all about the guinea pig. The poor animal with the endless names of which she had only remembered the first. She had to use her fingers to count off the ones she remembered. There had been far too many, and yet she thought she got a few of them together. Still, the answer remained distant.

Four names came together in her head, of which she didn't know which were in which position.

It would break her neck.

Hers and Chrollo's.

But she had to answer. So she settled on the one that sounded best. "Sunside."

Hachibald's eyes widened as the name left her lips. It hung like resin between them, making every single second a little more unbearable as the silence threatened to swallow them all.

And when he opened his mouth, Soleil didn't even dare to swallow.