A Room Too Grand, A Presence Too Close
"So… this is my room now. From this day on."
Victor's words were hardly more than a whisper, borne into the hush of the corridor. Taking a deliberate breath, he pressed both hands flat against the high double doors. The smooth wood was chill to his skin, adorned with intricate patterns of lotus and roses intertwined.
It pushed open with a creak, the hinges silent as if releasing secrets on a sigh.
The instant the opening grew wide enough, something slipped through—a fragrance of lavender, rose, and the subtle hint of mogra. It surprised him, charging into his lungs with such sweetness that he took a step back. His nose quivered, and he took another breath, deeper this time, allowing the aroma to sweep through him.
Light leaked from inside, touching his eyes until they accommodated. What was laid bare took his breath away.
The room wasn't merely a room—it was a world. Broad enough to qualify as a floor in its own right, its walls rose to a high dome, the walls decorated with starry murals of suns and moons pursuing each other across a dusky sky. A king-size bed stood at the center, draped in gold and white silks that glowed softly in the light of floating lamps hanging in midair. Their orbs glowed with soft, magical light, as if living stars.
There was a long dressing table against the distant wall, mirrors framed with silver vines. There was an open window for the late evening wind to breathe within, curtains billowing like dancers. A deeply cushioned couch stretched out in front of it, luxurious velvet glinting. Above, a crystal chandelier sparkled, dispersing shards of rainbow on the highly polished marble floor. Each corner had something placed there on purpose—vases of cut flowers, works of art placed in gold frames, rugs soft as moss, tiles arranged in complex geometric designs.
Victor stood frozen, jaw slack, his eyes darting across every inch. "This… this is a room? Looks more like an emperor's palace wing."
He let out a half-laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm fucking living in a king-sized fantasy now. Hah." His voice echoed faintly, bouncing against the wide space.
For an instant he just stared, caught between shock and admiration. The orphan within him, the kid who had slept on hard floors, felt something turn in his chest. Heaven and earth—this gap was too incredible. Reality and memory collided in him, but here he was.
He shook his head, forcing a crooked smile. "I'll admire later. First things first—I need to clean myself. Violte dragged me all over that damn forest, and the ground wasn't exactly silk sheets. My body's sticky, my clothes a mess. Bath first, luxury later."
His eyes scanned the room until they landed on a door in the corner, obscured by curtain drapes. Instinct beckoned him in that direction. "There you are," he grumbled, moving in its direction.
His grin still on his face, he hummed a nonsensical tune under his breath, half-satirizing the opulence surrounding him as he opened into the next room.
The room was hot, filled with steam and pungent herbal fragrances.
His pace slowed. "No way…"
The bathroom might have been confused with a shrine. Marble floors extended under his bare feet, gold-veined like frozen lightning. The faucets were designed into serpents, their mouths running streams of hot water that ran without cease without buckets or servants. In the middle was a huge obsidian tub, capable of drowning a small army, its surface steaming with mist. The water glimmered lightly with remnants of spiritual power, leaves bobbing like stars upon its surface.
Victor whistled low, curling lips. "Fucking hell… even the bathroom's trying to show out on me. Cool. Way too damn cool."
Slowly, he loosened his shirt buttons, the slight rustling sounding in the huge hall. Black trousers came next, cascading to the ground at his feet. His skin trembled at the difference—the chill of the room on the body heat escaping from the tub.
He entered without haste.
No sooner had his foot landed in the water when he slipped.
"Shit—!"
He plunged into the tub in an undignified splash, water going over the sides in mad curves. For an instant he simply floated there, half-sprawled, arms floating like some drowned idiot. Then a laugh exploded from him, low and panting. "Smooth entrance, Victor. Real smooth.
The heat penetrated him at once, gliding through his flesh, settling into his bones. His knotted muscles released, one by one. The stabbing pain behind his eyes eased until it was nearly forgotten. He relaxed back, head against the chilly black stone rim, eyes half-lidded.
Then—softness.
Something touched him, silken, certainly alive.
Slowly, Victor opened his eyes, and the steam split just enough to show violet eyes watching him. Not glaring. Not unfriendly. Deep. Sensual. Familiar.
Her body leaned against his chest as if it was where it was meant to be, silver hair wet and sticking together, two little black horns sprouting from her head like a crown of darkness. Her body fitted him to perfection, her breasts against him softly, nipples brushing with each breath.
He didn't freak. He just smiled, angling his head over hers. "So… my love chose to join me."
Violte's lips tipped up, her voice a silky string. "Yes, Victor. I thought… it would be a pity to let you soak by yourself."
His arms tended to move of their own accord, enfolding her waist, pulling her in until there was no room between them. His voice was low, a promise at the edge of his mouth. "And nothing else? Just… companionship?
She smiled at him, that killing little smile of hers that could destroy any man. "Nothing more. Unless…" Her voice fell, caressing his ear like smoke. "…unless you desire it."
Victor snorted softly, the rumble humming through her. "You always know how to challenge me."
Her nails traced faint circles against his chest, delicate yet suggestive. The bathwater rippled around them, carrying heat that was no longer just from the herbs.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against her temple, a whisper meant only for her. "Violte… you'll ruin me one day."
"And you'll enjoy every second," she murmured back, pressing her forehead to his, violet eyes gleaming.
The bath was their cocoon—steam, warmth, and the soft thrum of two hearts packed too tightly together to keep it a secret.