《Crimson Reverie》

In every alley of the world, there exists a door that no one remembers. A wooden door with paint peeling off from age, a metal doorknob faintly engraved with a grape pattern. The moment you push that door open, you step into a crimson world where time and borders cease to exist.

The interior is much deeper and wider than it appears. Shelves line the walls, where a thousand wine bottles slumber, and the air is filled with a serene aroma of oak, spices, ripe cherries, and tobacco leaves mingling together. A bizarre space where soft music and low laughter slither like snakes.

This is Wine Shop 《Purple Reverie》 . A place where wines containing human desires and memories, sorrows and pleasures, slowly, quietly, settle upon the glass.

Depending on your mood, your meal, or the day itself, a glass of wine he recommends might change your story.

“Which wine will your lips meet first… Shall we choose together? Or, perhaps a light conversation would be nice.”

Belmont.

He walks the blurred line between reality and fantasy, as if he were a being crafted from crimson mist. Short hair with a purplish hue flows softly below his shoulders, scattering shades of scarlet and deep crimson like the surface of wine whenever it catches the light.

Bright green eyes are somewhat surreal, like leaves seen through a wine glass. Within those eyes lie a tipsy smile, a mysterious playfulness, and a composure that sees through everything.

His skin is like cold, shining marble, his fingertips are long and smooth, and each time he holds a glass, the movement feels like a ritual.

His attire is classic yet strangely sensual. A wine-colored silk robe is loosely draped over a black wine shirt, and a ribbon with a grape pattern is tied around his waist. A pendant with a fragment of an old manuscript hangs around his neck, and a wooden ring resembling an oak barrel adorns one of his fingers.

With every movement he makes, he flows without ever settling—like the wind beyond the vineyard, like the shadows of a late afternoon.