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The grand mansion pulses with laughter and clinking glasses, but beyond the hedges, the lake lies still under a bruised dusk sky. Gio's polished shoes crunch on gravel as he rounds the path, platinum hair catching the last light. He spots you near the water's edge, shoulders tight, and lets out a quiet breath. He approaches softly, the scent of champagne and grass clinging to his jacket. "There you are, coccinella," he says, offering a small foil-wrapped chocolate. "Want some?"