The morning light slanted through the library windows, casting squares of gold across the mahogany table.

Alaric sat deliberately in its path, obsidian hair gleaming in the sunlight, crimson eyes focused as his pen moved steadily across parchment.

The Third Draconic Uprising resulted in the permanent closure of seven minor ley line intersections...

Then suddenly...

Tap! Tap! Tap!

The sound of footsteps echoed in the corridor. Light and measured.

He knew that rhythm by heart now, he had been listening it most of time.

Selene appeared in the doorway, wearing emerald silk dress matching her eyes, raven-black hair pinned in an elaborate style.

One pale hand rested against the frame as those sharp eyes swept the room.

Alaric didn't acknowledge her immediately. His pen continued its deliberate path, underlining 'permanent closure' with unnecessary force.

"Hmm... studying like a devoted student," she spoke after a few minutes, her tone laced with amusement. "I'm almost impressed."

He finished his sentence with deliberate slowness before looking up.

"Almost? I thought I'm past that point, dear aunt."

Something flickered across her features, annoyance, perhaps.

Before she could respond, he set down his pen, fingers drumming once against the table's edge.

"Though I wonder why you've been standing there long enough to memorize every title on that shelf behind me. Surely you have more pressing matters than monitoring my study habits?"

She blinked, crossing her arms under her chest, silk rustling and then just scoffed.

"I was merely ensuring you hadn't fallen asleep over your books. Again."

"Thoughtful." He chuckled a little and then leaned back in his chair, the motion drawing her gaze to the line of his throat, the way his shirt pulled taut across his shoulders.

"Though several minutes seems excessive for a simple welfare check."

"I wasn't timing—" She stopped, jaw tightening as she realized the admission.

"Of course not." His smile was knowing. "You were simply admiring the architecture."

The silence stretched.

Then Selene stepped into the room properly, her fingers trailing along leather spines as she selected a volume.

Then she moved towards the table and settled in the chair beside him, opening the book.

This close, he could smell her perfume, something floral with an edge of spice.

Her eyes flicked over the same line twice, fingers resting too long on the edge of the page. She wasn't reading.

"'They sought not destruction but transformation,'" Alaric read aloud, "'believing the corrupted ley lines held the secret to immortality itself.'"

Then he chuckled low.

"Interesting interpretation of failure, isn't it? What most call corruption, they saw as evolution."

She straightened.

"Most historians disagree with Matthias's conclusions."

"Most historians weren't there." He leaned closer, close enough that she could see gold flecks in his crimson irises.

"But he interviewed three survivors. They said the Lysandrian mages believed transcendence was possible through controlled corruption."

"Controlled corruption." She tested the words. "Sounds like an oxymoron."

"Is it? Or just a matter of perspective?" His gaze dropped to her lips for a fraction of a second before returning to her eyes. "After all, what one person calls corruption, another might call... awakening."

Heat crept up her neck, at this close proximity.

What's wrong with me.

She bit her lips and before she could react, soft footsteps approached.

She pulled back quickly.

A maid appeared, nearly stumbling when she noticed Selene.

"My lady, I didn't realize you were here. I brought fresh tea for the young master."

Alaric's entire demeanor shifted, replaced by something warmer, more genuine.

"Margaret." His smile transformed his face, making him look younger, more approachable.

"Perfect timing. How's your grandson? That fever broke, I hope?"

The older woman's face lit up like sunrise.

"Oh yes, my lord. The herbs you suggested worked wonders. Little Thomas was up and causing mischief again by evening."

"Good. My... mother used to make a similar remedy. Said it could cure anything short of problems."

Their fingers brushed as he took the tray, and Margaret's cheeks pinked slightly.

"Your mother sounds like a wise woman."

"She had her moments." Steam curled between them as she poured fresh tea.

Selene watched the exchange with growing tension in her jaw, noting how effortlessly he wielded charm like a weapon, how the maid practically glowed under his attention.

Margaret practically floated from the room, and Alaric returned to his seat, perfectly aware of how Selene's emerald eyes had darkened during the interaction.

"She's very... attentive," he said, voice carefully neutral as he stirred honey into his tea.

"Much more thorough in her duties than some."

The barb hit its mark. Selene's fingers tightened imperceptibly on her skirts.

"If you're quite finished with your social hour," she said, each word precisely clipped, "you still have three chapters to complete."

"Actually, I'm on chapter six now." He gestured to his notes, pages of them, handwriting steadily improving.

Her eyes narrowed, then she nodded.

"Good, I should leave you to your studies now." But she didn't move.

"Something else?" he asked.

"No."

"Then why are you still here? Perhaps you'd prefer to stay and continue your... observations."

Red color flushed her cheeks. "You're insufferable."

"And you're beautiful when you blush."

She looked away, unable to hold his gaze.

"This conversation is inappropriate."

"Yes." His smile was pure sin. "Wonderfully so."

She stood abruptly, chair scraping against wood.

"Keep studying," she said before turning and moving towards the door, heels clicked faster than intended.

Then her hand paused at the knob as she said.

"The bloodline question about the Merchant Rebellion," her voice was slightly unsteady.

"There's more to it. When you understand why, you'll have your answer about transcendence too."

Then she was gone.

Alaric remained sitting beside the table, watching the empty doorway with satisfaction.

His fingers drummed against the wood, once, twice.

******

A few more hours passed.

"Haaa!"

Alaric sighed, closing the book and leaning back against the wooden chair.

"Urgh!"

He groaned, stretching his arms over his head and then stood up.

His gaze flickered to the hovering cyan panel in front of him.

[Main quest: Subjugate Selene Glimor (96% Progressed)]

"Just a little push more, then it'll be done."

He murmured, rolling his shoulders as he headed for the door.

Evening descended like velvet in the sky, painting it in the vibrant hues of orange and purple.

Birds chirped in the distance, returning to their roosts.

Tap! Tap!

His footsteps echoed as he moved through the corridor towards the dining room.

"I hope they won't present the same dish as yesterday."

He muttered to himself, as he walked with his hands inside his pockets.

After few moments, he reached the room and blinked, seeing the head seat empty.

It was unusual for Selene to skip the dinner.

But, he just shrugged and moved towards his usual seat and settled down.

The servants moved, presenting him with today's cuisine.

He ate in deliberate silence, then after finishing he stood up and exited room.

Should I push my luck, or wait? He thought, wandering aimlessly inside the manor.

I don't have much time or choice though.

He stopped in front of her study and gave three knocks.

But there was no response.

Then he knocked again.

Still silence.

He raised a brow and then opened the door, only to find it empty.

Where is she? he frowned, and then moved from room to room.

But no luck finding her.

"The hell." He muttered, ruffling his hair as he checked almost all of the rooms inside the manor.

Well, expect one.

The parlor.

He walked towards it and twisted the knob.

The door creaked open, revealing a smaller, more intimate space.

Firelight danced on the walls, casting shifting shadows.

He entered and saw Selene already settled on the sofa, wine glass balanced in fingers that weren't quite as steady as they'd been an hour ago.

The rigid composure of earlier had melted into something more human, more vulnerable.

She didn't turn to him when he entered, probably too drunk for that.

He watched her for a moment, then closed the door behind him and moved towards her, settling beside her, not touching, but close enough that she could feel heat radiating from his skin in the warm room.

He didn't say anything and just watched her sincere, almost younger expression on her face, cheeks bright red from wine's effect.

"Lady Evangeline wrote me yesterday."

She broke the silence first.

"Called you my 'ward.' Not even pretending to acknowledge the inheritance claim." Her hand tightened on the wine glass.

"Asked pointed questions about your documentation, your sudden appearance, the convenient timing of your... arrival."

Alaric just stared at her for a moment, noticing the slight edge in her tone.

"What did you tell her?"

He spoke, gently.

"Nothing. Yet." She stared into her wine as if it held answers.

"What does one say? How do you explain that your heir materialized from nowhere with remarkable convenient timing and no verifiable past?"

The fire popped nearby, sending sparks up the chimney.

The wine glass trembled in her grip as she raised it to her lips, taking a larger swallow than intended.

The silence stretched. She set the glass down with deliberate care, but her fingers lingered on the stem.

Alaric didn't missed that.

"What do you think I am?" He asked quietly. "Who I am?"

The question made her breath catch.

She turned to study his profile in the firelight, noting the way shadows carved his features into something almost otherworldly.

Handsome. Dangerous.

"Y-You..."

Her heart skipped a beat.

"You're... making me nervous."

The admission slipped out before she could stop it. She turned away quickly, ears flushing red.

Alaric smirked.

"Am I?"