Then, she slowly made her way toward the couch, circling it from the right side.
Her long dress swept across the polished floor, brushing the soft light cast down by the chandelier above.
Dust?
There was none.
Formations worked in wonderful ways.
As she sat down, her gaze drifted across the room. Quiet, subtle, maybe just trying to find something to settle herself for the moment.
Breathless even.
Her gaze graced the opened window before her, depicting the view below. Monks pouring in front the entrance, sitting down accordingly to their seats.
"The future... is bright, I think... "
A bit of self doubt, but she wouldn't let such a simple thought hinder her path.
Then, she drifted her gaze to the table.
Picking up a glass from it, letting it hover before her eyes just for a brief moment.
From time to time, her eyes glanced the door where the two guards stood.
Maybe she was waiting.
Maybe hoping.
But whatever it was, she waited, her lips quivering for some... reasons.
Outside, the crowd finally began to filter in.
The doors had opened some time ago, but they trickled in at their own pace.
Like water leaking from a cracked pipe, slow, inconsistent, and indifferent to the passing of time.
Her hands, graceful, moved across the table.
Like a kitten, she reached out and picked up a fruit, small and firm in her grasp.
She brought it to her lips, taking gentle bites in tiny, measured nibbles. Maybe to save the remaining portions for someone else, no?
Then, she picked up a soft roll, elegantly wrapped, with a smooth purple cream pressed inside.
She held the wrapper delicately between her fingers and took a small bite.
She chewed quietly.
Swallowing the chewed parts down, and exhaled with closed eyes, "Maybe I was just expecting too much from him."
Then, just a breeze.
She didn't move.
Her back stayed upright, unbending, even as the couch all but begged her to lean into its comfort.
She only sat at the edge, her figure held there. Purposely exposing a gap over her thigh, and two small oval cuts on her waist, right and left.
The milky white skin wasn't hidden in the slightest, but for who exactly?
Then...
She took another bite, both hands holding the wrapper, her arms slowly drawing away from her lips.
From the corner of her mouth, a faint, glistening thread of gel traced down in a fine arc, catching the light from the window.
It was mesmerizing, like a siren's lullaby, designed to tempt.
Her lips, soft and red like velvet, gleamed with a glassy sheen as they pressed together.
She reached for a handkerchief, dabbed lightly, then drew her hand back with the same quiet care.
And then, just like the wind from before, a voice came.
It rolled in gently, easygoing, as she finally leaned back against the plush couch. It gave under her weight, and she sank in just a little.
Her back arched, the shape of an upside down love evident from behind.
The voice said, "Eating... huh."
It came from her left.
She tilted her head slightly, letting herself fall into the curve of the seat.
Her arms crossed just beneath her chest, perhaps too precisely, then nudged upwards in a faint, deliberate shift.
The movement created a soft ripple, like water trembling in a deep bowl.
Delicate but hard to ignore.
And the man beside her, just as naturally, watched.
Especially the tips, Liam's mouth twitched, 'She's not wearing anything underneath?'
"Senior's way of appearing is rather scary..." Ilya tried to make light of it, a pale attempt at a fearful expression tugging on her face.
A small performance, hoping he'd go along with the atmosphere she'd woven between them.
Her arms pressed further against her chest, pushing them. And her body shifted, right leg extended, the exposed parts of her thigh and waist caught Liam's eyes, but momentarily only, 'What a dangerous woman... '
Liam, as always, responded in his own way, unhurried and unbothered, like someone who had dealt with too many people for too long.
The air of a lonely immortal carried along the movement of his sleeves.
His long white hair catching the light, and his deep ruby red eyes glistened gently, overlooking this place with no emotions.
'Then, let us see who is better at seducing... Woman'
The folds of his gentle white robe shifted as he leaned forward, sliding a bit closer to her.
Ilya's instincts jumped, she shifted away, body curling slightly as she pressed against the armrest, one arm propping her upright as her back arched, leaning backward.
He moved in.
His chin hovered just above hers, close enough for her to feel his presence, not quite touching.
But the gentle breath, and the heat of his body came even through the air.
His gaze narrowed slightly, the glint in his eyes like polished steel catching the moonlight.
Then, he spoke, quietly, his voice brushing against her breath like a murmur cast into the heart of a storm.
"So daring in front of a Guardian, Miss Ilya. Are you not afraid of me?"
"The consequences of seducing a Guardian, " He leaned in further, Ilya's body pushed back to whatever amount of space was left behind, his breath thumped against her skin, "It is... fatal... "
Her breath hitched.
Her eyes flicked in every direction, too fast, too sudden.
Her arms were still folded beneath her chest, locked in place, pushing up awkwardly, and the tip of her chest nearly brushed against his robes.
Too close.
But the moment passed in an instant.
He drew back without a sound, slipping just an inch away.
Now seated properly in the center of the couch, his posture neutral again.
Hands resting calmly on his thighs, one leg crossed over the other.
His demeanor had returned to normal, like nothing happened.
"Aha... " Ilya breathed out, flustered, completely so. Especially the obvious red tinge over her cheeks, and the way how the tip of her ears flared red.
'Amusing... '
Liam's sudden approaches were always unpredictable, abrupt in a way that felt almost intentional.
Ilya didn't have time to brace herself.
Her guard slipped for a second, and like a kitten caught off-guard, she tensed up, stunned, her back brushing the edge of the couch.
Her cheeks flushed, not from embarrassment, but from the warmth that rose like a slow simmering pan.
It wasn't just the nearness.
It was the heat of his breath, brushing against her skin with an easy boldness, and the way he looked at her.
Just a glance.
Yet behind it, there was something unmistakable.
Possessiveness.
Not love, no, Ilya doubted Liam truly understood what that even meant.
But his tendency to claim her with his eyes, his presence, it carried a kind of weight she enjoyed far more than she would admit out loud.
That kind of possessiveness… meant she mattered to him.
And that made her feel wanted.
She straightened her posture quietly, smoothing out the creases in her dress, especially in the area below her waist, where the fabric had folded.
Her back never once touched the cushion.
She sat with a gentle poise, upright, almost instinctively playing the part of a proper wife.
Liam, by contrast, had sunk lazily into the couch.
One arm draped along the right armrest, legs loosely stretched out.
It wasn't just a lazy sprawl, there was a comfort to his posture that somehow made it pleasing to look at.
At least, that's how Ilya saw it.
Others might not have understood it.
Down below, the venue was steadily filling. Most of the guests had already entered.
The rows of seats, private booths, and high-level VIP rooms were now nearly occupied.
"The thing I told you before, any news?" Liam's smooth magnetic voice came from the side, cutting through the embarrassment in the air, and Ilya shifted her posture again, patting her cheeks, "There's one, it's actually a seller that discovered a strange dead egg from the great wilderness."
"Oh?" Liam's interest was piqued.
"Since no one else were willing to buy it, I sent a guard to negotiate with him. We should be receiving the egg soon."
"Great job, Ilya" Liam smiled.
"Then, do I deserve a reward, Senior Liam?" Ilya leaned forward, but only to receive a chop to her head instead, "Focus... tonight's event is important for us."