At dawn, thin strands of golden sunlight filtered through the lattice window, scattering across the room as Samael slowly opened his eyes.
Across from him, Atalanta's hair—flowing like a cascade of green leaves—spilled over her shoulders. Crimson marks streaked across her skin, pale as fresh snow, silent witnesses to the echoes of the night before.
The body resting atop his arm felt supple, firm, and warm. The huntress lay still on her side, quiet as a sleek lioness dozing within her territory.
The smooth line of her back, the tension of her muscles, and the lingering scent of grass in the air were enough to make Samael's thoughts drift the moment he shifted even slightly.
Sensing the faint movement beside her, Atalanta rolled faintly, her gaze lowering toward the hand resting on her chest.
Samael's expression froze. He coughed lightly, forcing a smile.
"Ahem… awake?"
"Mhm."
"Then… should we get up?"
Atalanta lifted her eyes toward the sun already hanging high in the sky, then lowered her lashes.
"Seems… still early."
"Then… sleep a little longer?"
"Okay."
The lioness agreed without hesitation. She licked her cherry-colored lips and rolled over, rising with unquestionable intent. The mood in the room shifted immediately—there was no need for words.
...
By noon, the two stared at each other.
Pinned beneath the lioness all morning, the human prey finally resolved to assert human determination. He pushed back, flipping the feline predator beneath him, successfully turning the tables and proving humanity's ability to tame felines.
But it didn't last long. Unwilling to accept defeat, the lioness took back control. The adorable ferocity of the beast remained unshaken.
...
By nightfall, the two figures, finally quiet, stepped into the bath. Together they eased into the wide tub, letting the water flow over their skin.
Silence thickened awkwardly.
Samael winced as he touched the bruises along his body. The sting from the claw marks across his back throbbed dully. He cleared his throat.
"This isn't good. We haven't eaten anything today."
"Yeah… didn't even go greet everyone…"
Atalanta let out a low nasal hum, sounding as though she were reflecting on her own lack of composure.
The water rippled gently. Without realizing it, the two leaned closer. Samael gazed at the full moon outside the window, his mind drifting.
"But… it's nighttime already, right?"
"That's true…"
"Then… we could…"
"Do it again…"
"Just once. Promise…"
The night grew deep. Stars dimmed outside the window. Inside the misty, steam-filled bath, splashes echoed as another round of battle ignited.
...
On the third day, they woke to sunlight already blazing high.
Atalanta stepped to the door and glanced outside. The scorching sun shone warmly on her skin. She turned back, muttering softly,
"It's already noon… seems pretty hot outside. Are you hungry?"
"Not really. You?"
"Me neither…"
"Then… maybe nap through lunch?"
"Sounds right. Back to sleep…"
The door—barely cracked open—shut again. Moments later, the window began to rattle violently, as if some large beast were repeatedly slamming into the frame.
...
Sunset. Moonrise. Night settled.
A lamp flickered to life on the table, casting light over two figures who had drifted close again.
"It's so late… everyone's asleep. So we should…"
Clack!
The lamp, lit for hardly ten minutes, seemed to be blown out and knocked over. Chaotic thuds followed one after another.
...
Day Four.
"Didn't sleep well last night. Need a proper rest today…"
"Yeah. Rest."
...
Day Five.
"Today…"
"Together?"
...
Day Six.
"Today…"
Thud!
...
Day Seven.
"…"
"…"
After seven days of "deep communication," a single glance was enough. They moved toward each other in silent agreement.
Thud!
But just as they were about to close the remaining distance, a violent crash shook the stone wall—followed by a furious roar.
"You two! Are you EVER going to stop?! Can't you let people sleep?! CAN'T YOU?!"
Next door, the victim—eyes bloodshot, gaze crazed—looked ready to grab her spear and storm in to commit homicide.
"Caenis! It's not that bad, really—"
Circe ran up in a panic, clinging to her roommate's leg with a tearful plea.
"Seven days! Seven whole days! Do you know what I've been through?! Not one moment of peace! NOT ONE!"
"But… there's soundproofing Magecraft, isn't there?"
"Oh, don't even start! The noise is so loud it's BREAKING THROUGH the soundproofing! Let go of me!"
"Don't be angry, don't be angry! I'll add another layer, another one!"
"I'm too mad to sleep!"
"Then… should I brew sleep potion?"
"I've drunk so much I'm nauseous! No! I can't take it anymore—tonight I'm going over there to get answers! I'll—"
BANG!
A heavy thud interrupted her. Caenis, spear in hand, had barely kicked her own door open when her voice cut off. Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed like a sack of rocks.
The door next door creaked open. Samael peeked out sneakily. Seeing the accuser face-down on the floor, backside raised, a swollen lump on her head, the accused froze.
Circe, deathly pale, immediately dropped the Moonlight Staff she'd used to knock her out. Relief washed over her multicolored eyes.
Samael cleared his throat, rubbing his nose awkwardly.
"Uh… is she okay?"
"It's fine, it's fine. She'll be fine after a nap. You two continue. Please, continue."
Circe waved frantically as she spoke, dragging her unconscious roommate inside with great effort.
But in the dark—and with Circe's very limited physical strength—Caenis bumped into everything.
Her head hit the doorframe first. Then furniture scraped harshly across the floor. Decorations and knickknacks clattered down onto the victim.
Even Samael winced and covered his face.
When the adjacent door finally creaked shut, Circe—huddled in the corner—let out a long breath. She patted her chest, face full of relief.
Thank goodness… thank goodness… I'd have died if I pissed her off!
Immediately, she glanced at the bruised and battered Caenis on the bed. She hurried outside to cast soundproofing Magecraft—layer after layer—around both rooms. She added one suppression spell, then two binding spells.
Not yet reassured, the Great Witch crouched beside the bed, staring at the unconscious victim.
After a long moment, she frowned again, then simply rested her Moonlight Staff atop Caenis's head—ready to knock her out at any movement.
...
Inside the room, Samael and Atalanta sat on the bed, exchanging mortified looks.
"Tonight… let's actually sleep."
"Yeah… sleep."
They both exhaled deeply. One used Magecraft to clean the blankets, the other knelt to prepare the floor mat.
After a few minutes of quiet work, Samael and Atalanta climbed into their respective beds. They exchanged one instinctive glance—then quickly looked away and turned their backs to each other, eyes closing in silence.
...
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