After waiting for almost half an hour, they finally went to Lioren's room. The group sat there quietly for about five minutes before the silence began to break.

Leyla leaned forward, poking Lioren's face gently, her voice soft with amusement. "How pretty and cute he is," she said, unable to hide her fascination.

Meirei, who had been watching calmly, added without expression, "Your brother wanted me to throw some Chai on it."

That was enough to set Leyla off. She turned to Cyrin immediately, her voice rising in disbelief. "How could you even think of doing this to such a pretty Omega?"

Cyrin, defensive and irritated, muttered, "That was to wake him up."

Leyla glared. "Only crazy psychopaths do stuff like that. Are you retarted, brother Cyrin?"

Cyrin scowled. "If you think my actions are psychotic, then what about Meirei? He throws this on whoever comes into the basement all the time!"

Leyla shouts with such conviction, "He obviously is not a criminal, Look at his face, with such a pretty face, you think he could be a criminal?"

Their bickering grew louder, echoing through the room. Meanwhile, Meirei, after casually setting fire to the hearth, sat down in a chair and stretched. Without even looking, he told Sevren to bring him some tea and snacks for both of them.

Sevren caught the gesture, gave a dry nod, and left the room. Neither Leyla nor Cyrin seemed to notice his absence or his return when he came back with a tray.  On it sat a cup of steaming tea for Meirei and a bowl of popcorn for himself. The two settled beside each other, calm and composed, as if the room’s chaos were a performance put on solely for their entertainment.

Across the room, Leyla and Cyrin were bickering furiously. Cyrin, unable to shout back, signed rapidly with sharp, exaggerated movements. His expression was furious enough that Leyla did not need a single word to understand him. She fired back with her own sharp retorts, raising her voice louder with every exchange.

That was when Cyrin's sharp gaze fell on Meirei. His hands froze mid-air. Slowly, he stood, stalked across the room, and without a single word, snatched the teacup straight out of Meirei's hands.

"You tea-addict jerk!" Cyrin shouted.

Meirei didn’t even flinch. He tightened his hold on the cup, refusing to let go, and in a blink the roles switched. Now it was Cyrin and Meirei bickering loudly while Leyla and Sevren sat back, quietly enjoying the show like it was their evening entertainment.

But this time, there was more behind Cyrin's glare. Four days ago, Meirei had complained of stomach pain. The doctor had warned him to cut down on tea.

But this wasn’t just any tea. This was Meirei’s favorite Nightbloom Black. Omegas hated it because it was too bitter for them. And yet, Meirei drank it like water.

"Three cups already! Do you want your stomach to tear itself apart or what,  you idiot?"

Meirei reached for the cup again, scowling. "Don’t exaggerate. I’m doing just fine. Stop acting like a nursemaid."

Cyrin pulled the cup just out of Meirei’s reach, holding it firmly. Meirei leaned forward, their hands nearly brushing in the struggle, and the small space between them buzzed with tension as they argued over the cup.

"You call this fine? Days ago, you couldn't stand straight. And now you're gulping this poison, like water. What part of the limit did you not understand?"

The words dripped with irritation, but the concern was impossible to miss. His scolding was sharper than usual, his movements tighter, as though he was fighting to keep his worry hidden under the irritation.

"How many times do I have to tell you? The doctor was a quack! He doesn’t know a shit about my body!" said Meirei, reaching desperately for his glass.

Leyla and Sevren, of course, ignored the seriousness. Sevren passed the popcorn bowl to Leyla, pulled out his notebook, scribbled a line, and showed it to her.

“That’s the fastest I’ve ever seen someone get karma this instantly,” he wrote, clearly referring to Meirei.

Leyla laughed until her stomach hurt, while Sevren smirked behind his page. For others, a stomachache was a minor thing, but to Cyrin, it was serious, so much so that he didn’t even realize it himself.

Amid the chaos, Lioren was trapped in a dream. At first, it was a nightmare. He ran through a dense, suffocating darkness, his heart pounding in his chest, the echo of footsteps chasing him growing louder with every step. Shadows twisted around him, shapes indistinct but threatening, and the air felt thick, heavy, as if it could crush him at any moment.

Then, just as suddenly, the darkness softened.  Thick, vibrant green vines began to rise around him, winding and curling, not to trap him, but to wrap him gently yet firmly, creating a living, breathing sanctuary. The air, once heavy with dread, now smelled faintly of damp earth and a subtle, calming spice.

Within this sudden haven, the presence of a man appeared through the vines. Long, soft, and warm hands began tracing slow, careful paths across his skin. It was a physical touch that was deliberate, grounding, and almost lovingly intimate. 

Every motion was designed to soothe and hold him, replacing his panic with a deep, unfamiliar calm that made his chest ache with a sudden, overwhelming sense of safety and belonging.

But the warmth shattered abruptly. He woke to the cacophony around him, people quarreling, tea spilling, popcorn flying. The sudden transition left him disoriented. His eyes blinked rapidly as he took in the scene, and as he sat up, his voice trembled with lingering echoes of the dream

"Where… where am I?" Lioren asked, his voice tight with disbelief as his eyes darted around the unfamiliar room.

The chatter and clatter froze instantly. Silence settled thick in the air, broken only by a lazy drawl from the doorway. "A zoo… or maybe a circus. Take your pick."

Every pair of eyes snapped toward the doorway, where the speaker leaned casually against the frame, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.