After Levi left, I also went to the set for the night shoots.

The air was thick with the scent of dust, stage makeup, and the ever-present aroma of lukewarm coffee. Crew members hurried back and forth, their hushed voices a low hum against the backdrop of half-constructed castle walls and strategically placed lighting rigs.

Despite the welcoming familiarity, the hangover was a persistent shadow. Each shift in lighting, each raised voice, seemed to amplify the dull hammering in my skull. Lines felt more difficult to recall, and the subtle nuances of Aerion's expressions seemed to elude me. I focused intently, trying to channel the character. But it was a struggle, like trying to paint a masterpiece with a trembling hand.

“Guys,” I asked to the crew, “do you have any pain killers? My head is about to split open.”

A wave of sympathetic murmurs rippled through the nearby crew members. A harried-looking assistant director, juggling a headset and a clipboard, paused. "Rough night, Raphael?" he asked with a grimace. "Yeah, stand by. I think props has some basic painkillers in their kit. Maria!" he called out, his voice cutting through the low hum of activity. "Maria, you got any of those headache pills?"

A woman with a bright scarf wrapped around her hair and a toolbox slung over her shoulder turned around. "Sure thing, love. One too many of whatever they were serving last night?" She rummaged through her kit for a moment. "Here you go. Not the strongest stuff, but it should take the edge off." She handed me a couple of small, white tablets and a bottle of water. "Take these with plenty of water. And try to grab a few minutes in the quiet corner if you can, yeah?"

I went to my trail for a brief retreat. People thought this was some beer hungover. No, it was the hungover from the ancient nectars and thinking what Levi might be doing in the Royal Palace.

What exactly did he mean by ‘terror into obey’? I could picture him in the halls, his every word and gesture carefully calculated, his aristocratic charm a razor-sharp weapon. He could be utterly ruthless when necessary, a trait he usually kept carefully veiled beneath layers of wit and enigmatic smiles. The thought sent a shiver down my spine.

I closed my eyes, trying to conjure a sense of calm midst the swirling thoughts, the fate of Ascaria, and perhaps our own lives, hanging precariously in the balance.

The knock on the trailer door was gentle but insistent, cutting through my troubled thoughts. "Come in," I called out, my voice still a little rough.

The door creaked open, and Finn and Maya shuffled in, looking every bit as disheveled as I probably did. Finn's hair was sticking up at odd angles, and Maya had dark circles under her eyes. They both moved with a similar sluggishness.

"Rough night, huh?" Finn groaned, collapsing onto the small armchair in the corner.

Maya sank onto the edge of the sofa beside me, letting out a dramatic sigh. "Tell me about it. I think my brain is still trying to process those glowing paintings." She rubbed her temples. "And that drink… it tasted so innocent."

They both looked at me. "You look like you've been run over by a very colorful, slightly hallucinogenic truck," Maya observed with a weak smile. "So, the hangover is real for everyone, then."

“Dude, Levi said, the plant that use for that nectar actually was mildly hallucinatory. So yeah. Literally hallucinogenic truck.” I said while rubbing my temples.

Finn winced, clutching his own head. "Great. So we weren't just imagining the talking ravens and the philosophical debates with the bartender. It was actual, bona fide hallucinations." He groaned again. "My life is getting weirder by the minute."

Maya shuddered. "Hallucinations. That explains a lot. I thought I saw Levi sprout wings for a second there. Clearly, I need to lay off the… ancient god juice." She looked at me, a flicker of concern in her eyes. "How are you holding up, Raph? You seemed to hit it the hardest."

“Oh, it’s not exactly the hungover for me. Levi needed to go travel for his work. So I am gonna be alone for a while in that gigantic, ridiculous penthouse.”

Maya's expression softened with sympathy. "Oh, Raph. That sucks. That place is amazing, but it would feel huge and empty without him. Especially when you're feeling this… otherworldly." She reached out and squeezed my arm gently. "Well, you're not entirely alone. We're here, suffering through our own 'ancient god juice' aftermath. Misery loves company, right?"

“That, devil. What the hell did we even drink? I don’t even remember the half of the things I said.” I mumbled.

Finn snorted a laugh, despite his obvious discomfort. "'Ancient god juice' is the perfect description. It tasted so… historical and slightly floral. Who knew it packed the punch of a disgruntled deity?" He rubbed his temples again. "And yeah, Raph, you were… quite the conversationalist last night. There was a whole passionate monologue about the societal implications of decorative doilies, if I recall correctly."

“I remember talking in Cyrusian, ranting about them. Other than that it’s just lights and swirls.”

Finn chuckled, though it quickly devolved into a small groan. "Ah, yes, the Cyrusian soliloquy. That was… intense. I think I picked up a few words that sounded vaguely like insults, but the passion was undeniable." He gave me a sympathetic look. "Don't beat yourself up about it, Raph. We've all had nights we'd rather forget.”

Maya patted my arm reassuringly. "Exactly. Lights and swirls sounds about right. Consider it a sensory adventure. And hey," she added with a mischievous glint in her eyes, "at least you provided us with some excellent entertainment.”

“Yeah. And also Levi seduced both of you last night. Don’t feign ignorance.”

Finn choked out a laugh, then immediately regretted it as it made his head throb. "Hey! I wouldn't say seduced. He was... charming. Exceptionally charming. There's a difference." He shot a sideways glance at Maya, a sheepish grin on his face. "Right?"

Maya's eyes twinkled. "Oh, he was definitely charming. In that quiet, sophisticated way of his. It's like he doesn't even have to try. One minute you're talking about lighting rigs, the next you're suddenly agreeing with everything he says and offering him your kidney." She sighed dramatically. "The man has a superpower, I swear." She looked at me, a playful smirk on her lips. "So, yes, Raph. He has a certain… persuasive quality. Even without the 'ancient god juice'."

“Yeah… It is impossible to not be swayed by him. And last night? He wasn’t even trying to seduce. It was him being nice.”

Finn nodded in agreement, a thoughtful expression on his face despite his obvious discomfort. "That's it. It's the 'being nice' that gets you. It's so genuine, so… effortlessly considerate. You feel like you're the only person in the room when he's talking to you. Before you know it, you're volunteering to understudy for the role of the grumpy stable hand, even though you can't ride a horse." He shuddered.

Maya sighed dramatically. "Tell me about it. He asked me about my cinematography ideas, and suddenly I was outlining my entire artistic vision for the next five years, convinced he was my soulmate. Then he just smiled politely and asked if anyone wanted another drink." She shook her head in mock despair. "The emotional whiplash is real." She looked at me with a knowing smile. "So yes, Raph. He doesn't even have to try. His default setting is 'subtly irresistible.'"

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“It kinda feels nice to know I am not alone in being charmed by him, but you guy make it sound like you were actually seduced... Oh my god, you guys!” I rose from my couch.

Finn threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, okay! Maybe 'seduced' is a strong word. Let's go with 'profoundly influenced by an aura of quiet sophistication and genuine interest.' Is that better?" He grinned sheepishly. "But seriously, the man has a way about him. You can't deny it."

“Stop being charmed by him!" I yelled and, regretted it. Shit. "My head still banging in my skull.” I placed my palm on my forehead.

Finn winced sympathetically. "Yeah, that 'ancient god juice' hangover is a persistent beast. Maybe we should all just lie down in the dark for a few hours and collectively regret our life choices."

Maya patted my arm again, her amusement fading slightly as she saw my discomfort. "Poor you, Raph. You really did get the worst of it. Here," she reached into her bag and pulled out a small bottle. "I actually have some decent painkillers. Stronger than the stuff in the prop kit. Take one of these with some water. It should help." She handed me a pill and a bottle.

I swallowed the pill gratefully, the promise of relief a welcome thought. "Thanks, Maya. You're a lifesaver. And yeah," I sighed, leaning back against the cushions, "Levi is… different. It's easy to get caught up in the persona, the carefully constructed image he projects. But underneath all that," I gestured vaguely, "there's just… Levi.”

A small, fond smile touched my lips. "I think last night, as chaotic and bizarre as it was, was actually… nice for him. Just a few drinks with friends, no political maneuvering, no strategic alliances to forge. Just… being himself, with people who take him at face value, even when he's inadvertently charming the pants off them." I chuckled softly. "It's a rare thing for him, I think. A chance to just… be."

Finn nodded slowly, a thoughtful expression replacing his earlier discomfort. "You know, you're right. He actually seemed… relaxed last night." He chuckled softly. "The pigeon thing was genuinely hilarious."

A comfortable silence settled in the trailer for a few moments, the three of us lost in our own reflections on the strange events of the previous night and the enigmatic man who had been at the center of it all. The painkillers were starting to take effect, a gentle easing of the throbbing in my head allowing a sliver of peace to settle in.

“Ugh, the night shoots are the worst.” I said while scrunching my nose.

Finn groaned in agreement. "Tell me about it. My internal clock is so messed up, I think my body believes it's perpetually twilight. And trying to emote convincingly at 3 AM while battling a residual 'ancient god juice' headache is a special kind of torture."

Maya sighed dramatically. "The glamour of filmmaking, gentlemen. Hours of waiting, followed by intense bursts of pretending to be someone else under harsh artificial light, all while fighting the urge to fall asleep standing up." She shivered theatrically. "And don't even get me started on the catering at this hour. Mystery meat surprise, anyone?"

We all shared a collective groan, the shared misery a small comfort in the face of the long night ahead. The brief respite in the trailer was coming to an end, the demands of the production looming.

…

The end of the night shoot was a blessed relief, the harsh lights finally dimming, the flurry of activity slowly subsiding. Despite the lingering fog in my brain and the gnawing emptiness in my stomach, the prospect of sleep was a siren call I was desperate to answer. However, the persistent calls from the crew for a post-shoot breakfast were surprisingly persuasive, fueled, I suspected, by a similar state of exhaustion and a desperate need for sustenance.

"Come on, Raph," a weary-eyed grip called out, already heading towards the exit. "Just one pastry. They've got this amazing pretzels at this place near the docks." Others chimed in, their voices a chorus of tired agreement.

And the truth was, despite the throbbing in my head, the hunger was a sharp, insistent pain. My stomach felt like a bottomless pit, growling in protest at the hours of lukewarm coffee and nervous energy it had been subjected to.

"Alright, alright," I conceded, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "Just one. And copious amounts of coffee."

As we ate, the conversation was a low hum of tired jokes and shared stories from the long night shoot, punctuated by satisfied sighs and the clinking of coffee cups. For a brief moment, surrounded by the comforting smells of the bakery and the familiar faces of my colleagues, the strangeness of the previous night and the unknown dramas unfolding back in Ascaria faded into the background, replaced by the simple pleasure of a warm breakfast and the promise of a few hours of sleep to come.

Then the unexpected happened. A delicate tap on my shoulder made me stiffen.

I turned slowly, and my blood ran cold. Standing behind me, a predatory smile playing on her perfectly glossed lips, was Julia. Her eyes glittered with a light that sent a shiver down my spine.

"Hello, little doggy?" she purred. "Miss me?"

Shit.

Everyone fell silent.

"Oh, Julia," I said, forcing a semblance of polite surprise, my voice betraying none of the sudden anxiety that gripped me. "What are you doing here in this part of town?" I rose smoothly from my chair, subtly positioning myself between her and the rest of the crew. "We were just grabbing a quick breakfast after a particularly grueling night shoot. Why don't we step outside? It's a bit crowded in here." I offered a strained smile and gestured towards the door, hoping to diffuse the situation and remove her from my already discombobulated colleagues.

As we moved out onto the quiet street, Julia's smile widened, a predatory curve to her lips. "Ah, 'little doggy' found a new haunt, has he? I was merely passing by," she said, her tone light but with an undercurrent of steel, her gaze sweeping over the bakery window, "and I happened to notice you indulging in a pastry that wasn't procured from my establishment. It stings, Raphael. It truly does.”

"I was on set all night, okay? We wrapped just now. I was about to pass out from hunger. This was the closest place. But fine. Sorry."

"C'mon, 'little doggy', you wound me with your defensiveness," Julia said, her smile widening, but her eyes held a sharp, assessing glint. "Of course, I'm teasing you about the pastry. Though," she added with a theatrical sigh, "my croissants are superior. But that's not why I sought you out in this charmingly… rustic establishment."

She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You remember Lady Isolde, yes? Levi's… rather prickly ally? The blonde one?"

"Yeah, I do," I replied, a knot of unease tightening in my chest. "Why?"

"She's… acquired some rather sensitive information regarding Levi's current endeavors," Julia continued, her gaze intense. "Something she feels he needs to know urgently, but she's unable to reach him. Something about… unforeseen complications. So, tell me, 'little doggy'," her eyes narrowed slightly, "did the old bastard finally succumb to one of his many enemies? Did Levi Blake finally… die?"

My breath hitched. "No! Of course not, Julia. He… he went to the palace. He told me he was going to… 'terrorize the council into obeying'." The words felt strange and ominous even as I spoke them aloud.

A slow, almost calculating smile spread across Julia's face. "Really? Interesting. Hm… it seems our dear Duke is acting with more… alacrity than I anticipated. Well, 'little doggy'," she reached out and patted my cheek, her touch surprisingly gentle, "you be careful, yes? Playing in the lion's den can be dangerous. If anything… unusual happens, anything at all, you contact me. Immediately. Understood?" She gave my cheek a final squeeze before turning and gliding away, her elegant figure disappearing around the corner.

My fingers flew across the screen, adrenaline overriding the lingering effects of the hangover. "Lady Isolde needs to contact you," I typed, the urgency of Julia's message pounding in my chest. I stared at the blank space beneath the text, wanting to add more, to convey the strange intensity of Julia's warning, but unsure how much to reveal via a simple message. I hesitated for a moment, then added, "She said it's urgent. Something about unforeseen complications."

The lack of an immediate reply from Levi was unsettling. He was usually quick to respond, even if it was just a brief acknowledgment. The silence stretched, each passing minute amplifying the knot of anxiety in my stomach. I glanced at my phone again, willing a notification to appear, but the screen remained stubbornly blank.

With a sigh, I reluctantly turned and headed back into the warm, fragrant interior of the bakery. My crewmates were still chatting quietly, the earlier tension seemingly dissipated. They looked up as I rejoined them, a silent question in their eyes. I offered a weak smile, not wanting to alarm them with my growing unease.

"Everything alright, Raph?" Finn asked, his brow furrowed with concern.

"Yeah, just… a bit of a weird encounter," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "Old acquaintance. Nothing to worry about." I grabbed my lukewarm coffee, the comforting aroma doing little to soothe my frayed nerves.