The vineyard was beautiful, serene, and bathed in the warmth of lamplights and starlight—perfect for a refined evening stroll. At least, it would have been, if not for Blake.
The daemon prince, who had been quietly raiding grapes one by one like a thief in the night, decided subtlety was overrated. Spotting a wooden barrel left open near the terrace wall, he ambled over, peered inside, and found it nearly brimming with freshly harvested fruit waiting to be pressed.
His purple eyes gleamed.
"Oh ho… jackpot."
"Blake," Lux's voice immediately carried warning, the kind of tone one reserved for a mischievous child about to destroy priceless artifacts. "Don't you dare."
Blake looked at him over his shoulder, juice staining his chin, and with the confidence of someone utterly shameless said, "Relax, I'm just… investigating quality control."
Before anyone could stop him, he climbed onto the edge of the barrel and plopped inside with a splash of grape juice.
