### The Room — Moonlight on Linen
Viktor walked toward her.
The room was small — the cramped, honest dimensions of a woman who had built her living quarters around function rather than display. A single window let in the pale, indifferent moonlight, casting a long rectangle across the floorboards and climbing the side of the bed. The bed itself was narrow, built for one body, covered in a plain wool blanket that had been washed until it was soft and thin in places.
Naro stood beside it.
Her heavy frame filled the space between the bed and the wall, her broad back to the door, her arms hanging at her sides with the particular, uncertain posture of a woman who had invited someone into her private space and was now discovering that the invitation carried consequences she had not mapped.
Viktor reached the bedside.
He did not touch her.
He simply sat.
