Four years, huh?

Due to severe weather conditions, Lucius and his companions were unable to return to Italy that night. A dense fog had settled in, making it impossible for the pilot to safely navigate the plane. Left with no other choice, they decided to stay the night in Russia at Varya Sokolov's residence.

Outside, beneath the dark expanse of the sky, Luca retrieved a cigarette from his pocket, placing it between his lips.

He patted his coat in search of a lighter, but before he could find it, a flicker of light illuminated the space between them. A steady hand had already ignited a flame for him.

"Thanks," Luca murmured as he inhaled deeply, watching Lucius lower his hand.

"Do you want one?" he asked, offering a cigarette in return.

Lucius shook his head. "No, thanks. I quit a long time ago."