On another camera feed, in a different corridor, Nicolas was standing with a man Dominique didn’t recognize.

They were speaking in low, urgent tones, their heads close together, their body language tense and conspiratorial.

The man was tall and thin, with a sharp face and nervous eyes that darted around the corridor like he was expecting to be caught at any moment. His hands fidgeted at his sides and he kept glancing over his shoulder, as if the walls themselves were watching him.

Man’s hand moved quickly, slipping something small into his pocket. The movement was practiced, almost casual but Dominique’s trained eyes caught every detail.

Dominique zoomed in on the footage, his eyes narrowing. It was a small packet of white powder.

Nicolas took two glasses from a passing server’s tray and held them behind his back, concealing them from view. His hand moved quickly, tipping the contents of the packet into one of the glasses with surgical precision. He swirled it gently, the powder dissolving instantly, invisible to the naked eye, leaving no trace of its presence.

Dominique’s lips curved into a cold, bored smile. He shook his head slowly, a soft laugh escaping his lips.

"Oh, classic trick," Dominique muttered to himself, his voice dripping with amusement. "Really, Nicolas? Drugs? How predictable. You’re so funny."

He let out a quiet, mental laugh at Nicolas’s amateur trick. Dominique had seen better schemes from teenagers on the internet.

He watched as Nicolas straightened his jacket, adjusted his cuffs, and picked up the two glasses. He walked toward the main hall, his steps confident, his smile wide and self-assured.

As Dominique expected, Nicolas walked directly toward him.

Nicolas said smoothly, his voice dripping with false warmth. "I hope you’re enjoying my party."

Dominique smiled back, his expression perfectly fake. "Indeed, I am enjoying it very much. The food is delightful, the music is tolerable, and the company..." He paused, letting his gaze sweep across the room with deliberate slowness. "...is certainly interesting."

Nicolas’s smile faltered for just a moment. "Interesting?"

Dominique said, his voice dripping with false sincerity. "Very interesting. I’ve never seen so many people pretend to like each other in one room. It’s quite the spectacle. I almost feel like I’m at a theater performance."

Nicolas forced a laugh, the sound hollow and strained. "Haha, you have a sharp tongue, Dominique. I always admired that about you."

Dominique raised an eyebrow, his expression one of amused disbelief. "Admired? I thought you hated me."

Nicolas said smoothly, his eyes flickering with something dark. "Hate is such a strong word. I prefer... competitive."

Dominique nodded slowly, letting the word hang in the air. "Competitive. I like that. It sounds much more civilized than what I was thinking."

Nicolas’s eyes narrowed, his curiosity piqued despite himself. "And what were you thinking?"

Dominique smiled, wide and innocent like a child who had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Oh, nothing important. Just that you have terrible taste in wine."

Nicolas stared at him, his expression frozen somewhere between confusion and irritation.

Dominique gestured at the glass in Nicolas’s hand, his tone light and dismissive. "That one, for example. It’s a cheap vintage, pretending to be expensive. Much like its owner."

Nicolas’s face flushed. His grip tightened on the glass, his knuckles turning white.

Dominique laughed, the sound bright and carefree. "I’m kidding, Nicolas. Lighten up. It’s a party."

Nicolas forced a smile back onto his face, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "Haha, let me toast you today. Let’s forget what happened in the past. I’ve moved on from Hazel, you know. Women come and go. We shouldn’t lose ourselves over them."

He raised his glass, the drugged one, toward Dominique.

Dominique smiled, reaching for his own glass.

But instead of taking it, he suddenly leaned forward, squinting at Nicolas’s face with exaggerated concentration.

Dominique said, his voice full of exaggerated shock. "Oh my God. Is that a gray hair? Right there. On your temple. I can’t believe it. You’re aging, Nicolas. I thought you were immortal."

Nicolas’s hand flew to his temple, his face twisting with panic. "What? Where?"

Dominique pointed, his voice dripping with false concern. "Right there. Right there. Are you sure?"

Nicolas glared at him, but his hand was still on his temple, his attention fully diverted. Did he really have white hair? Was he aging? Was he losing his youth? His mind was racing, his vanity taking over every rational thought.

Dominique used that moment.

Dominique said smoothly, taking both glasses from Nicolas’s hands. "Let me hold that glass for you." He placed them on the nearby table, side by side, perfectly aligned.

Nicolas looked at him in shock. His eyes darted to the glasses, trying to remember which one was which. But it was too late. The glasses were identical, smooth and clear with no distinguishing marks. The drug had dissolved completely, leaving no trace. There was no way to tell them apart now.

Dominique’s hand moved, quick as a snake and switched the glasses. The motion was so fast, so fluid, that Nicolas didn’t even notice. One moment the glasses were on the table. The next, they were back in their hands.

Dominique said, waving his hand dismissively. "No, wait. It’s gone. Must have been the lighting. My mistake. Your hair is as perfectly gray-free as ever."

Nicolas blinked, still unsettled, his hand still hovering near his temple.

Dominique said, picking up his glass, the clean one, and raising it. "So tell me, to new beginnings?"

Nicolas blinked again, still unsettled, still distracted by the thought of aging. He took the other glass, now the drugged one, and raised it.

Nicolas echoed, his voice hollow. "To new beginnings."

He drank deeply, the liquid sliding down his throat.

Dominique watched him, his smile widening ever so slightly.

Nicolas drank the entire glass, his head tilting back as he emptied it.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then Nicolas’s eyes glazed over. His smile faltered, his expression becoming slack and unfocused. He blinked rapidly, shaking his head as if trying to clear it.