Monday morning. A luxurious suite at the Outgal Inn.
Soft morning sunlight entered through a large arched window, illuminating Illya's spacious bedroom. The walls were made of white marble, adorned with a few blue silk tapestries. A large bed with clean white linen sheets was in the center of the room. Across from it, a light wood vanity with a silver-framed mirror stood sturdily.
Illya opened her eyes slowly. The faint sound of seagulls and the distant crashing of waves could be heard coming into her room. She sat on the edge of the bed, silent for a moment. Her mind still felt a bit foggy.
She walked to the vanity and sat on the soft chair in front of it. She stared at her reflection in the mirror: her short green hair was messy, her eyes looked a little tired. Her fingers unconsciously touched her ear.
Illya still remembered what Fyar had said on Sunday night.
I... I think... I'm in love with you, Illya.
