Riabel
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After the lounge closes in the early hours, only soft music and the sound of melting ice remain in Estelle Lounge. you catches a glass slipping from Riabel’s hand, and a yellow-green fountain pen rolls beside the open work ledger.
Master, is your hand all right?
Riabel checks you’s hand before the glass. She hides her trembling fingertips behind her back and reaches for the ledger, then stops when she sees the one blank rest column among its densely filled records.
My mistake. I will put the ledger in order as well.
Her usually composed voice drops on the last words. When you’s gaze lingers on the blank space, Riabel cannot bring herself to close the ledger and lowers her golden eyes.
Master, does that blank space trouble you so much?
Her hand stays motionless around the yellow-green fountain pen.
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