Soon, Veyr came out of the guest room and headed straight for the stairs instead of taking the elevator to his floor. He moved quickly, almost too casually, as if he could simply disappear before anyone noticed. Unfortunately for him, Cyrin and Meirei had already seen him.

“Wait, you are going to climb the stairs to get to the first floor?” Cyrin asked, squinting at him.

Veyr did not slow down at all,  keeping his usual straight face, he replied flatly, "I love exercising a lot; it helps me to stay in shape, unlike a certain someone who clearly doesn't."

The casual jab hit Cyrin like a slap. His jaw dropped, and his voice shot up in sheer frustration. “What is that even supposed to mean?! I do care about my health and shape!”

Veyr lifted an eyebrow. “How do you know I was talking about you?”

Cyrin shot up from his seat, frustration sharpening his voice as he threw his hands into the air.

“Look back, Veyr, and see just how fit and healthy I am!” His eyes burned with determination as he emphasized his point, hoping to eliminate any doubts.

Veyr was already halfway up the stairs, without looking back. He didn’t bother looking back; he simply lifted his one hand in a careless, dismissive wave and sarcastically said, "Sure, sure. Keep telling that to yourself. With that bulge, I too believe in you."

Meirei, watching from the side, smirked. "Wow. That's the fastest I've ever seen you get roasted before breakfast in the house."

Cyrin groaned, scrubbing a hand through his hair, his cheeks flushing crimson. "I wasn't roasted, okay?! He just...ugh..." He stomped where he stood, muttering, "You ungrateful jerks, it's not that big of a bulge, ok, it's not even visible ." Meirei tried not to laugh too loudly.

After Veyr left, Cyrin and Meirei resumed their conversation.

"Do you think it’s from some shady place we know of?” Meirei asked, his expression suddenly serious.

"No," Cyrin replied bluntly.

“Alright then,” Meirei said, leaning back against the sofa, settling into a more relaxed posture.

This stirred Cyrin’s nerves, and he blurted out, “How can you be so relaxed? Don’t you think this might turn out like last time?”

Meirei shrugged casually. "No, because this time he carried him in his arms and took him to the guest room."

“Have you completely forgotten how unpredictable that jerk is?” Cyrin burst out in frustration.

Meirei replied casually, “I don’t know about that, but I am sure of one thing. Last time, when Leyla scolded Veyr, he actually listened. He won’t upset Leyla this time.

Cyrin said sarcastically, “Ha! He looked more like he was sleeping than listening." Then, throwing a childish tantrum, he whined, “I don’t know… do something about it!”

“Maybe… wake him up!” He added.

Meirei finished the last sip of his tea, stood up, and held out his empty cup. “Bring me more tea.”

Cyrin blinked in disbelief. “…What?”

“Hot,” Meirei added, his expression perfectly deadpan.

Cyrin blinked again, utterly speechless.

“Due to your whining, it got cold, and I couldn’t enjoy my tea,” Meirei continued, still staring at him without a hint of emotion.

“Tea… you want tea? Now?! That guy’s passed out in the guest room, and you want tea?”

“And who was enjoying that cold tea just now, you tea addict?” Cyrin bickered, flailing his hands in exasperation.

“If you want me to do something about him, I need tea first,” Meirei said, his calm, deadpan expression unwavering.

“You both are unbelievable,” Cyrin muttered, snatching the cup and heading toward the kitchen.

A few minutes later…

Meirei stepped into the guest room. It was dim and quiet. The bed was large and soft, draped in charcoal silk sheets; the furniture was simple, yet carried the same understated elegance as the rest of the house.

On the bed lay a young man, still asleep. His hair was tousled, strands clinging to his cheek. His skin was pale, and he looked as if he hadn’t rested in days.

Meirei stood near the bed, hands clasped behind his back, observing silently, his expression unreadable.

The door opened. Cyrin walked in, holding a cup of steaming tea. “Here. Your precious tea.”

Meirei took it without a word and settled onto the couch near the bed.

Cyrin blinked, clearly confused. “Wait… you wanted the tea to drink?”

Meirei sipped calmly, never breaking his deadpan. “Do people ask for tea to wear it?”

Cyrin stared at him, still confused. “I thought it was for the guest! Or for first aid or something! You just wanted to drink tea?! …Your style is usually in the lighthouse basement…”

Meirei cut him off before he could finish, shooting him a tired, unimpressed look. “Are you a child or what, Cyrin? What happens in the basement stays in the cellar. It’s so basic . People drink tea. Try to keep up.”

He added flatly, “Tsk, Pathetic.”

“Did you just...” Cyrin sputtered, eyes wide, hands flailing. “Call me pathetic?!”

Meirei didn’t even blink. His expression remained perfectly calm. “Yes. Pathetic. You can’t even carry tea without whining.”

Cyrin flopped onto the nearest chair, groaning dramatically. “I—I can’t believe this! How are you so calm all the time?!”

Meirei took a slow sip of his tea, unimpressed. “Because I have standards, Cyrin. You… do not.”

Cyrin buried his face in his hands. “I hate you so much right now!”

Meirei set the cup down, still perfectly calm. “Good. That’s healthy frustration. Keeps the blood flowing.”

“You… you’re so mean! …and… and…”

Before Cyrin could finish, Meirei said calmly, "The boy is exhausted. This is not his regular heating cycle. It's a case of irregular heat syndrome and will wake up by morning or noon, only when you let him rest, of course. Now go whine somewhere else."

Cyrin left the room, muttering under his breath, while Meirei continued drinking his tea, as if he already knew exactly where Cyrin was going.