The soft light of Salem bathed everything around him like a dream — or a delirium. The white tea table among the clouds seemed to float above reality itself, with such delicacy that Vergil wondered if any sudden movement would make it fall.
But it wasn't the landscape that made him uncomfortable.
It was the presence of Seris, sitting on the other side of the table like a goddess on vacation — her legs crossed, a porcelain cup in her hands, and that smile on her lips. A smile that hid a thousand secrets… and an apocalypse or two.
Vergil, still seated, but visibly impatient, crossed his arms. His eyes scanned the surroundings, as if looking for a way out even though he knew there was none.
"Tell me what you want, Seris," he said, his voice firm, although his eyes carried a shadow of tiredness. "I understand that you like to play with the scenery, but I still have a lot to do…"
