At five in the morning, stars and moon made their quiet retreat. The deep black night softened to melancholy gray-blue. Dawn approached, but hadn't yet arrived.0

In the luxurious yet desolate crimson palace, Wang Zikai lounged on Pride's throne overlooking the other seats. The blond young man reclined with one leg bent at the knee, hand resting there while the other tossed a thin rectangular gift box. Up it spun before falling back to his fingers.0

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.0

After the seventh toss, Wang Zikai caught the box and stilled. With a twirl of his fingers, it vanished like...0