Selene's eyes fluttered open, still locked around Milan without even realizing it. She didn't remember where she was lying—only the echo of everything she had confessed to him moments ago came crashing back, each word replaying like thunder in her skull.
Her cheeks burned crimson.
What did I say? Jealous? Possess him? Afraid someone would steal him? Am I insane? Have I watched too many romance stories? What the hell did I even say…
Her heart thundered, faster and faster, until she thought it might burst."Am I… really in love?"
"Maybe not," a voice came
with confidence and embarassment "No. I really do love him. I just… his scent is still all over me."
A quiet, calm voice answered her panic.
"Obviously there is. Because you're laying on me."
Selene froze. Slowly, she lifted her head—and there he was. Milan's face, inches from hers, more breathtaking than any dream, more terrifying than any god. Her arms were still wrapped tightly around him.
Her body stiffened. A normal person would have leapt back, screamed, and scrambled away. But Selene wasn't normal. Instead, she gripped him tighter, shoving her face back into his chest, as though burying herself deeper would erase her shame. Her mind was malfunctioning, short-circuiting under the weight of embarrassment.
Milan, strangely, didn't overreact. His voice was gentle, steady as the breeze. "Are you okay? How are you feeling?"
That one sentence shattered something inside her. Not with magic, not with power—just with care. Something changed. She loosened her grip, only to tighten it again in a new way, softer but more certain. She tilted her head up, smiled with grace, and whispered:
"I'm okay. Are you uncomfortable, D… De… Dear?"
The last word made her face explode red again as she buried herself in him.
And for the first time in his life—Milan shivered. From the bottom of his spine to the crown of his head, a rush of goosebumps jolted him awake from every wall he'd built. His golden-silver eyes flickered shyly, his cheeks flushed pink. His lips parted, trembling.
"I'm uncomforta—"
"Yes, I know you're not," Selene interrupted, shameless.
His face went pale. Am I… being dominated? His whole life he had been above everyone, untouchable. Yet now a girl—this girl—was playing with him. This must be because of the immortal Tree spirit—or am I really being played?
Selene tilted her head, mischief gleaming. "Tell me honestly—did you take advantage of me while I was unconscious?" Her tone teased, mocking, but strangely sincere. "I'll accept you no matter what. But if you have some… special hobbies… you can tell me."
Milan stammered, completely thrown. "That's not it! Nor do I have any kind of special hobbies, I jus—"
"Okay, okay, I know, I know," she laughed, clearly toying with him. "We just… unknowingly sank into the sofa, and you held me tightly, even while I was unconscious."
"No! Obviously not—I'm just, I'm—" Milan faltered. Why am I even clarifying myself? Why am I being serious? She's obviously laughing at me. When did she become this close, this confident? I thought she was timid, naïve… yet now she feels like… a woman.
Milan smirked, trying to turn the tide. "I don't remember us being this close. Holding each other tightly while lying like this… almost like husband and wife."
Selene lifted her head. She cupped his chin in both hands, her face hovering over his with the grace of an empress. Her cheeks glowed, her eyes burned with devotion. She wasn't the little girl he thought he knew. She was a woman—elegant, fearless, unrestrained.
Her cheeks were fluffy, her gaze intense; she lay there with an unashamed, utterly compelling grace. Their bodies nearly rubbed; their hearts beat in time. Her chest pressed against his, Her chest rose and fell against his, and his resolve crumbled before the battle even began.
"I love you," she said softly, firmly, eyes never leaving his. "I've already said everything in my heart. You heard it. Why should I create unwanted space? My father once told me: accept and be true to what you feel. I don't want drama. I love you, Milan. I want to offer everything to you. Accept me, use me, or reject me—either way, you'll be the last man in my life. I don't know if my decision is right, but my heart has chosen. I offer you my entire self."
Her words were pure, powerful—so much so that even an immortal would tremble. And Milan did. Any man alive, faced with such a confession, would feel as though entire worlds might be born or destroyed for her sake.
"Okay—okay, wait a minute. Space me. No, don't. I mean—ahh, give me some space!" Milan stumbled over every word, flailing for escape. He tried to push her shoulder away with his hand, fumbling with his words. But when his gaze hit hers—when he met that overflowing love and the dangerous warmth, shy grin—he paused, lost.
Selene only bit her nails, grinning shyly but with a dangerous sparkle in her eyes.
Dangerous, Milan thought, his chest burning. She's too appealing. I have to escape.
He pushed her lightly with his thumb, slipping free from her grip, and immediately darted toward his room. At the door, he turned instinctively—and froze.
She lies gracefully upon the sofa, her chest pressed gently against its cushions, chin resting on her hands, while her legs curl upward in a playful arch. A dengerous love dissolving smile and dripping with charm and innocence on her face. She lifted her hands, shaped them into a heart, and mouthed silently:
I love you.
A shiver ran down Milan's spine. He fled into his room, closing the door behind him.
But even there, her words echoed, her smile burned, her body's warmth lingered. Every time he remembered the way she'd cuddled against him, the confession spilling pure from her lips, his face ignited until his ears burned, How had she changed so quickly? Was it the immortal Tree spirit, or had she always contained this sudden maturity and boldness?
He remembers an old saying flickered through his mind: No matter what, a woman can always dominate a man. He'd laughed at that before—how naive. Now, staring at the closed door, he felt its truth like a cold hand: women could be strong as beasts and fragile as glass, innocent like children and possessive like wolves. Oh Men, she is dengerous, yes dengerous, dengerous, very den- he remembers her charm and elegance very gorgeous
Selene covered her face with her hands, hiding her crimson cheeks. What is happening to me? How can I change this much? Was I always like this?
The night deepened, but neither of them found rest.