Rizz

Serafine sat on the grandest chair in the room.

Grand not because it was particularly luxurious, but because she had stolen it from one of the abandoned noble houses in the village and had since claimed it as her rightful throne.

Her legs were lazily draped over one armrest, and her head dangled off the other, her golden hair spilling onto the floor.

Across from her sat Calix, slumped forward with his face buried in his hands, looking like a man who had long since given up on life.

"Alright, let's go over the clues one more time," Serafine declared, waving a finger in the air. "The mysterious man in the crowd—what do we know?"

 "Again? Lady Savior, we've done this five times. I don't think there's anything else to squeeze out of these so-called 'clues' except your own delusions."