Zephariel barges into the room, fuming with fury. Follow behind him in close steps is an embarrassed Anwar, who is fumbling awkwardly with his shirt and trying to keep a nonchalant look on his face. The slightest hint of a flush shows on his cheeks, but Anwar determinedly pretends to ignore the heated feeling. He also avoids Yoru's questioning gaze and decides to settle down on the chaise-lounge near the Baroque windows with the velveteen burgundy curtains. Anwar busies himself with the scenery outside, whistling an off-key tune. Yoru doubts he is truly seeing the vast winter landscape of the North, or he is still trapped inside the labyrinth of doing the right things. Swiftly turns to Zephariel, Yoru asks bluntly:
"So what's your plan?"
"I have my plan ready. I'm not sure about you. Or him." Zephariel points his thumb at Anwar, which makes the Heavenly God jerk in surprise. Yoru shakes his head gently, patting the bundle of blanket curling on the bed next to him:
