While Oliver, Josephine, and Gregory engaged in a muffled conversation, Jean stepped closer and interjected. "I think it'll be best if we retreat to our bedrooms and take plenty of rest for the night."

Oliver, Josephine, and Gregory paused, their eyes meeting Jean's unsteady gaze.

"What do you mean, honey?" Josephine asked, perplexed by Jean's words.

"We cannot do that; we don't have time. The witch could put another curse upon your father any time soon," Gregory countered kindly.

"No, no, no. I- uh. I... I had..." Jean stuttered, his hand fidgeting as he attempted to form a lie. "I had a vision. You see? I... it's about... uhm... the witch... her... she... she... uh... she hasn't yet noticed that her black magic has been removed and won't realize it until you're standing before her," he reassured them.

"Truly?" Oliver and Gregory gawked at Jean, though their fierce faces remained resolute.

"Yes," Jean nodded firmly.

     Josephine sits quietly on the sofa, her eyes resting on the floor. Contradicting thoughts whirl within her mind, causing her brows to knit together. Pulling her lips, she glances at Jean and inhales through her mouth.

"Are you sure, dear? Is your vision reliable?" Josephine inquired, her scepticism palpable. "I've seen a contradicting vision. If we were to delay this quest, the witch will inevitably notice it soon," she informed.

Jean took a deep breath through his nose. "Yes... I've seen my vision just now. It's completely up to date," he said.

     Meanwhile, Bertie, George, Victoria, Elizabeth, and their husbands eavesdrop from the corner, their eyes locked on the figures of Jean, Oliver, Josephine, and Gregory. Their hearts and minds debate whether they should follow Jean's words. However, uncertainty blankets their entire beings, making them unsure of how to create a response. All they can do is perch themselves on the sofas and stay quiet.

"...How much time do we have left before the witch realizes her curse has lifted?" Oliver queried, his voice barely audible amidst the tension.

Jean swiftly thought of a lie, using his sly words to reassure his family. "...Once you stand before her... a week at most..." he whispered.

     Sensing Jean's conviction, Bertie and George stand and face their brother. With a silent turn, they veer towards the lounge's doorway and dismiss themselves from the room. Trailing behind their brothers, Victoria and Elizabeth rise from their seats and leave the lounge, followed closely by their husbands. Once they cross the threshold, the door creaks and closes gently, leaving a faint echo in the corners.

"We'll take your word," Oliver said, rising from the sofa. "It's best you return to your bedroom and rest."

     Oliver walked past Jean, followed closely by Josephine and Gregory. As Oliver stood before the lounge's doorway, he reached out and twisted the doorknob. He then turned around and looked back at Jean, their eyes fixated on one another. With a nod of affirmation, Oliver spun on his heels and departed from the room alongside Josephine and Gregory.

     The silence lingered in the lounge as Jean, Kevin, and Gabriel stood shoulder-to-shoulder under the lit chandelier. Jean's gaze slowly wandered and rose towards the ceiling, where the light cast a sombre glow upon his brown orbs. Releasing a deep, heartfelt sigh, Jean closed his eyes and lowered his head.

     A door creaks open, and Oliver enters his bedroom. As he strides towards the centre of his room, he unbuttons his overcoat and slips it off his shoulders, revealing his white undershirt beneath. Throwing his coat aside, Oliver sits on the bed and removes his black shoes. Like a snake shedding its skin, he wriggles off his trousers, exposing his light, breathable shorts that reach his knees.

     Joining his hands, Oliver closes his eyes and blows a heavy breath through his mouth. As he reopens his eyelids, his gaze lands on the celestial stars adorning the broad expanse of the galaxy beyond the window. The lucent moon above the sky pierces the window, passing through the glass and shedding a playful brilliance upon Oliver's shimmering amber eyes.

     Summoning every ounce of strength in his knees, Oliver rises from the bed and approaches the window. He then gazes at the ethereal night sky through the glass, admiring its timeless beauty. Reaching out, Oliver grasps the curtain and unravels it, pulling it down. Then, as if spawned by magic, light projects on the curtain's gauzy fabric, reflecting from behind Oliver.

     Oliver turns around and sees Gregory standing by the doorway, the light in the hallway entering the unlit bedroom. Casting a shadow upon the bedroom floor, Gregory's silhouette forms against the candlelights behind him. With a timid smile, Gregory marches forward and stands before Oliver.

"Good evening, Oliver," Gregory greeted him with a polite smile.

"Good evening, Gregory," Oliver greeted him, smiling. "What brings you here suddenly?"

Gregory took a sharp breath and sighed, his eyes darting towards the floor. "I can't help but worry about you. You know me well, right? I'm always that one man by your side, clinging to your shoulders," he disclosed.

"It's alright. I understand you, Gregory. I know all you want to do is protect me," Oliver nodded, comprehending Gregory's concern. "And I thank you for that."

Gregory beamed a bashful smile. "Like what happened before... please bring me with you, alright?" he said. "But if you don't need my interference, I'll trust you and let you do the work."

"I trust you, too, Gregory. Thus, I shall let you come this time," Oliver responded, placing a warm hand on Gregory's shoulder.

The two men exchanged determined smiles, their eyes reflecting their gratitude.