She pushed the door open and turned her head, only to see the familiar man already sitting at the table that had been empty just moments before.
Yes, that very man—the one who was both infuriating and gentle, the one who had gotten her pregnant with two elf babies.
Just as her gaze landed on him, Liam looked over in her direction.
"You're awake. Come and eat, you've slept for quite a while," he said softly. The living room was empty, and his words hung in the air, followed by two clear echoes. "How can you provide nutrition for the child if you can't even feed yourself properly?"
A plate materialized on the table in front of Liam, as if the food had been prepared long ago.
Hearing his words, Celia walked quietly over to him.
Looking at the stools placed around the table and then at the man's posture, she suddenly hesitated, unsure where to sit. Finally deciding on the farthest stool, she was stopped by the man's voice. "The stools are too hard. Are they suitable for a mother who just gave birth? Come here, sit on my lap."
As he said this, he smiled, patting his thigh as a signal.
Celia was speechless.
This man… he clearly wanted… but still had to find an excuse.
Fine, she couldn't win against him.
She walked over to him, hands clasped nervously in front of her. Avoiding his gaze, she blushed and waited silently as he sat on the stool…
Liam smiled at her, then leaned down and reached for the back of her knees. As he exerted force, Celia lost her balance. In a panic, her small hands flailed, trying to grab onto something.
Just then, her waist and back were steadied by a firm hold.
Her petite body was lifted effortlessly, like a docile kitten, and gently placed on his lap. He even adjusted her position so she could lean against him more comfortably.
Like a cherished, pampered young wife.
Not that she wasn't already used to it.
Celia proactively rested her head against his chest, bowing her head and waiting quietly—waiting to be fed.
After their previous two encounters, there was always this kind of tenderness, and it never felt unnatural to her. Perhaps this was the nature of being an elf maiden—to feel at ease with… well… her own man.
Especially afterwards, in his gentle embrace.
Unlike now, where she felt a little nervous.
…No, why should she be nervous! The man holding her had already fathered two children with her.
"Won't your feet get cold, stepping on the floor barefoot?"
His voice vibrated against his chest where she leaned. Before Celia could look up in confusion, the man had already reached down. His large hand enveloped her small foot, which was dangling in the air.
Her feet were very small, tender, and pale. One hand was more than enough to hold them.
Celia was flustered by his sudden action, her blush deepening. She bit her lip lightly, her voice barely a whisper. "Not cold."
He was treating her like a treasure.
She was being completely treated like a delicate woman.
Celia was starting to feel weak.
S
I
But it was fine. Actually, being treated like this felt quite enjoyable sometimes.
The floor was indeed cool, and her ankles were getting chilly.
It wasn't about the season. The elf tribe was always like this. Firstly, their settlement was deep in an ancient forest. Most humans, like Liam, would hesitate to enter this territory due to the many unknown magical creatures lurking on the outskirts.
Also, the temperature was relatively low. If the elves hadn't fully integrated cold resistance into their abilities, they probably couldn't survive here.
The plants were the same, coexisting with the natural magical energy.
But speaking of the floor… she seemed to remember something.
A little embarrassed, she buried her head deeper into the man's chest, avoiding his gaze, and muttered, "Lord Liam… I think I went into the bathroom barefoot… Did I dirty your hand?"
"You have a point. What should we do about it then?" he deliberately drawled, his thumb circling her slender ankle. "My hand has already wiped you clean. How will you compensate me?"
"Compensate?" Hearing this word, Celia grew slightly annoyed. Her small hands clutched the fabric of his shirt, and she said timidly, with a guilty conscience, "I've already given you a baby… Isn't that enough?"
"Haha, of course it's enough." Liam suddenly let out a playful, mischievous chuckle and whispered into his little wife's ear, "How about I take you to the bathroom to wash up again?"
"N-No need!" Celia reacted sharply.
Now, just thinking about the bathroom, her legs instinctively clenched. The memory of that day was still vivid. Afterward… she couldn't even stand straight, feeling completely drained and boneless. She had to rely entirely on Liam to carry her everywhere—it was utterly mortifying.
"Just kidding," Liam ruffled her hair, his tone softening. "But you really should take a bath today. Are your feet feeling warmer now?"
He hadn't let go yet. Celia narrowed her eyes. Under the gentle massage of his thumb, her dangling feet did feel much warmer.
"Mmm… warmer…" she murmured softly.
"Good that they're warmer. Let me feed you something first." Celia nodded obediently, leaning against his chest with her eyes downcast.
So this is what it feels like to be pampered by a man…
It's strange…
But feels great…!
Anyway, her brother certainly didn't pamper her like this—
"Kyle. Work harder. With your talent, you will surpass your brother one day."
Then he'd ruffled her head.
"Eat."
Lost in her thoughts, she felt something gently pressed against her lips. The faint, familiar scent made her swallow. She opened her eyes to look.
Wasn't this her mother's infamous "dark cuisine"?