In the garden where moonlight dripped like silver wine,
The Rebis wandered, quiet, between the jasmine vine.
Soft footsteps echoed, a shadow stretched too long—
The Chud appeared, a whisper turned to song.

“Why hide your deeds?” the cunning Chud did plead,
“Take what you wish, let conscience recede.
The coin is yours, the world will not see,
A little deceit, a freedom spree.”

The Rebis paused, heart a trembling drum,
The air thick with mischief, a danger yet to come.
Eyes like molten dusk, the Chud leaned in close,
Temptation blooming like a poisonous rose.

“Your parents trust, your hands unclean?
Why stain the night with what might have been?”
Yet Rebis, though young, though curious and sly,
Felt a flicker of truth in the silvered sky.

And so the garden bore witness that night,
To a struggle unseen in the pale moonlight.
The Chud whispered softly, a serpent’s delight,
But the Rebis turned, choosing the harder right.

For even in theft, and the shadow of blame,
There lies a spark that cannot be tamed.
No Chud, no whisper, no velvet lie
Could bend the Rebis to betray the sky.