They say angels falter when the flesh remembers it was once dust. That sin is not born from wickedness, but from longing too long starved of light. In the house where pleasure is prayer, and prayer is nothing but want, two souls sit beneath the trembling flame: one sent to kill, one born to be worshipped. And in that moment, the divine holds its breath. 

༻𐫱༺

The night unfolded as it always did, with music, laughter, and lies whispered into gold-rimmed glasses.

Cain moved from the haze like smoke.

He smiled when he had to, touched when expected, yet felt nothing.

Until he saw him. 

Across the room, half-shadowed, sat the blond man.

Despite his impeccable appearance, he still managed to look out of place among the jewelled gluttons of Seviel—his stillness was almost predatory.

Cain’s patron was still speaking. Words spilled from his mouth like dulled wine before dissolving into the background noise. With a polite touch to the man’s arm and a murmured apology, Cain slipped away, gliding through the haze of perfume and smoke until he stood before the stranger once more. 

The man looked up with a faint smirk as Cain leaned closer. Both hands came to rest on his knees, light as silk, their gazes locking in a quiet battle neither admitted to fighting. 

“Made up your mind?” Cain asked.

The man’s mouth curved.

He pressed a velvet pouch into Cain’s hand, its weight speaking louder than his words.

“Let’s find somewhere quieter.” 

Cain’s lips ghosted the edge of a smile. He took the man’s hand in his own.

“As you wish.” 

༻𐫱༺

Cain led the man upstairs, the hush of their footsteps swallowed by the thick velvet of the walls. He opened the door to his room and stepped aside, letting the soft glow of candlelight spill out like a secret.

Cain’s room was simple, but not empty. It was a reflection of Cain himself. If one looked closely enough, there were traces of him everywhere: lilies resting on the sill, a few books arranged neatly on a shelf, and small trinkets scattered across the dresser.

On the vanity sat a small box, white with gold trim, its velvet interior cradling several small items that were for Cain’s eyes only. 

Cain filled a crystal glass with red wine and slid it across the table toward the man. Gabriel leaned against the doorframe, eyes tracking Cain’s every movement. 

“You’re not just going to bed me then send me on my way?”

Cain leaned back on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, with the faintest trace of a smirk playing across his lips. Candlelight trembled across his pale skin, casting shadows that danced along the sharp planes of his face. “You don’t strike me as a man who settles for something so… transactional.”

“And what do I strike you as?” Gabriel asked. His voice was calm, too calm. The kind of composure that sounded like a threat. His dark eyes held a glimmer or something dangerous, like a quiet invitation to test him. Cain tilted his head slightly, looking at him the way one might study an old painting. 

“Someone who studies everything,” he said softly, “always looking for the meaning behind the surface. But I don’t think it’s just that. You don’t want to possess… You want to understand.” 

He paused, letting the air between them stretch thin. “That kind of hunger doesn’t belong to someone seeking momentary pleasure. Tell me if I’m wrong.” 

Gabriel drifted toward the vanity, fingers brushing over the surface with deliberate care. He studied each object as though it were a clue. He studied the rings glinting in the candlelight, a comb resting beside a small box, and the faint trace of powder on glass.

Cain watched in silence, his reflection meeting Gabriel’s in the mirror. “Do you always make a habit of going through other people’s things?” 

Gabriel didn’t look up. “You can tell a great deal about someone by how they keep their private spaces.” 

Cain arched a brow. “If you’re going to dissect me, you might as well enlighten me.” 

Gabriel’s mouth twitched. “Most people notice only the obvious. Neat or messy, rich or poor. But the truth is in the details. How a person treats their belongings tells you more than their words ever could. What they scatter, they don’t value. What they guard, they fear to lose.” 

He paused, eyes flicking toward the white box on the vanity before he stepped forward. “In thirty seconds, this room had already given me a glimpse into the soul of the man sitting before me.” 

Cain leaned back, expression unreadable. “No need to elaborate.” 

Gabriel noted a silver hairpin resting on the velvet lining, then closed the box’s lid. 

He crossed the room and sank onto the couch beside Cain. The faint scent of musky cologne mingled with cigarettes drifted across the small space between them. He took a slow sip of wine, eyes never leaving Cain’s.

Cain met his gaze, the corner of his mouth curling. “You asked me a question,” he murmured, “but I wasn’t finished.” 

Gabriel tilted his head slightly, a glimmer of amusement in his voice. “No?” 

“You started going through my things,” Cain said, “and then you made yourself very comfortable.” His voice dropped lower, smoother. “Anyway, when those two girls were draped over you that night,” Cain murmured, “your attention wasn’t on them. You were elsewhere.” 

He continued. “At first, I assumed nothing could stir you. Then I suspected you’d discovered something worse, pausing for. That’s why I approached you the next time.”

Gabriel smirked faintly. “Tickets on yourself, little lamb.” 

“Am I wrong?” Cain replied, lips twisting with amusement.

Cain’s voice dropped to something low and dangerous. “You were sitting in the same spot,” his eyes traced the faint curve of Gabriel’s smirk. “Your gaze was on me the entire night. It burned.” 

Gabriel tilted his head, the faintest glimmer of amusement behind the darkness of his eyes. “How soon did you notice?” 

“The moment you noticed me,” Cain said, lips curling into a half-smile. 

Gabriel’s laugh was quiet, a single breath that brushed between them. “Confident.” 

Cain leaned in slightly, his tone softening. “I couldn’t seem to eager, could I?” 

Gabriel didn’t move away. “No,” he murmured. “Eagerness ruins the hunt.” 

Cain’s breath ghosted against his jaw as he spoke. “So, I approached the man who looked like he was ready to devour me… only for him to speak in riddles and walk away.” His smile flickered, part taunt, part invitation. “You want to understand others, but I think what you really want…” He paused. “...is to understand yourself.” 

For a heartbeat, neither spoke. The world outside their silence ceased to exist, only the pulse of the firelight and the echo of their breathing. 

Gabriel’s reply came quietly. “Careful, little lamb. Curiosity can be fatal.” 

Silence fell. 

Cain tilted his head, green eyes glinting. “Cain Solaris. Pleasure to meet you.” 

“The pleasure’s mine,” Gabriel said, voice smooth. “Gabriel Edach.” 

“And how do I know that’s your real name?” Cain asked. 

Gabriel’s lips curved into a slow, knowing grin. “The same way I trust you’ve told me yours.”

Cain chuckled softly. “Mmn.” 

He leaned closer, until only a whisper of air separated them. Fingers brushed against Gabriel’s sleeve, tracing a path along his arm. “Tell me, Gabriel Edach, why such a generous sum? I could guess, but I suspect my imagination is kinder than your truth.” 

Gabriel’s eyes darkened momentarily. “Can’t I simply want the company of the man who haunts a city’s gossip? They speak of your beauty, your charm… how sin seems almost sacred on your lips.” 

He leaned in, voice dropping lower. “But the stories never mention how you look at someone… as though you could strip them bare and find meaning underneath.” 

Cain’s lips curved faintly, voice soft and teasing. “And you think I look at everyone that way? That this all isn’t simply part of my craft… to read them, to know exactly how to please them?” 

“Precisely,” Gabriel said, eyes locked on Cain’s. “I understand that what I see isn’t the whole picture… but the version of you sitting here, right now, has my full attention.”

“What do you see, then?” 

“A mirror,” Gabriel murmured. “Cracked… but still reflecting light.” 

Cain’s laugh was soft. “Be careful, Gabriel. Mirrors reveal what we fear to see.”

“Then show me,” he whispered, leaning closer, the scent of tobacco and something darker drifting between them.

“Cain’s fingers brushed the edge of his collar, tracing the line of his jaw. “And if you don’t like what you see?”

“Then I’ll break it,” Gabriel replied.

A slow smirk curved Cain’s lips. “That’s seven years’ bad luck.” 

Gabriel’s breath was warm against Cain’s ear, his hand gliding across the curve of his cheek. “Why do I get the feeling that it would be worth it?” 

He lingered a heartbeat longer, tension coiling like a spring, then rose, smoothing the lapel of his coat. Leaning down, hands braced against the couch, Gabriel’s voice dropped to a whisper meant for no one but Cain.

“I didn’t come here to take. I came to warn you. There are eyes on the Praecia Veil. Be careful who you trust… and what warmth you keep close. It might burn you.” 

He straightened, eyes locking with Cain’s emerald gaze one last time. “Thank you for the company this evening. I’ll be seeing you soon, Solaris.” 

Cain watched him go, pulse quickening, a mixture of curiosity and something unnameable lingering in the air.

Gabriel’s scent, his dark focus, the thrill of danger and desire. 

༻𐫱༺

Outside, Gabriel lit another cigarette, the smoke curling like confession from his lips. He could already hear Eli’s voice in his head, sharp with disappointment.

But he didn’t care.

Sin, he thought,

Had never looked so holy. 

༻𐫱༺

Veil of Lilith: Lilith, the first wife of Adam, is a figure in Jewish mythology often depicted as a rebellious woman who left the Garden of Eden. According to the Babylonian Talmud, Lilith is described as a woman who refused to submit to Adam and was subsequently cast out of Eden. Her departure is seen as a rejection of the patriarchal society that sought to control and limit women. Lilith’s story has been interpreted in various ways, with some viewing her as a symbol of female independence and sexuality. In contrast, others see her as a demon or a dangerous seductress.