The emptied teacup had a faint red stain at the bottom. It was a sign that the conversation had lasted longer than expected.

A quick glance at the clock showed that the time had reached an ambiguous hour—too late to be called night, yet too early to be considered morning.

Good grief. My sleeping hours have been cut short.

“I should get going now.”

Lucas, who had been resting his chin on his hand in a lazy posture, shifted his eyes toward me without moving the rest of his body.

“Already?”

“It’s not really ‘already’ if you look at the time.”