By the time noon sunlight finally peeked through the curtains, the room still smelled faintly of sweat, perfume, and the chaos of last night.
Oliver woke first — barely.
His body ached everywhere. Not from battle.
No… from very different warfare.
He stared at the ceiling for five seconds before grumbling:
"…I'm never letting Isolde drag Ariana into shopping again."
A soft groan came from beside him.
Ariana immediately hid under the blanket with a squeak, face burning bright red.
Isolde, shameless as ever, stretched like a cat, completely unbothered.
"Oh please," she yawned. "You enjoyed every second."
Oliver choked on air. "That's not the point—!"
A calm, completely neutral voice echoed by the door.
"Master exceeded recommended biological exertion output by 273%."
Seraphine.
Standing perfectly straight, holding clean folded clothes, expression unreadable.
Ariana made a dying noise.
