Flames of Jealousy

The night wrapped the mansion in a heavy silence, broken only by the soft echo of Elion's footsteps on the marble floor. The grand hall stretched before him, shadows dancing across the high walls as the moonlight filtered through tall windows. His sharp eyes swept the corridors as he walked, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his dark coat.

Turning a corner, Elion nearly collided with Hera, who appeared with her usual calm demeanor, a stack of books in her hands. He stopped abruptly, his towering figure casting a shadow over her.

"Where's Reinhart?" Elion's voice was low, commanding.

Hera barely flinched. "I don't know, sir," she replied, not even looking up from the books.

Elion narrowed his eyes. "How can you not know? He's been wandering around here all day."

She finally raised her head, arching an eyebrow. "I'm not his babysitter."