Inside the bathing chamber, the frantic rustle of silk and the metallic click of belt buckles echoed softly.
Len's small fingers worked with surprising dexterity as he navigated the complex buttons and silver-embroidered trousers of his noble attire.
Within moments, he was fully dressed. He slowly slid the door's bolt open and extended his neck.
Scanning both sides of the corridor with the sharp vigilance of a small predator checking the wind before emerging from its den.
Once satisfied that the 'danger' had passed, he stepped out on tip-toe. Astria remained seated upon the vast royal bed.
Her posture was serene, yet her eyes held a profound depth that measured Len's every movement with surgical precision.
The light from the flickering wall torches cast dancing shadows across her features, making her lingering smile seem all the more enigmatic.
"Len, come here to me," Astria said, patting the velvet surface of the bedspread.
Her voice possessed a silken pull—it wasn't quite a command, yet it wasn't a request either.
It was an invitation that felt impossible to decline. Len's steps were utterly silent against the intricate patterns of the Persian rug.
He moved toward her slowly, maintaining a measured pace that masked his internal agitation.
As he drew closer, the scent of rose essence and cold water drifted from his damp hair. He came to a halt directly in front of her.
Since Astria was seated on the high bed, their eyes were now almost level. "What is it?" Len tilted his head slightly.
His voice retained its usual simplicity, but a faint shadow of his earlier fluster still lingered in the corners of his gaze.
A deep, meaningful smile spread across Astria's lips. She lowered her lashes for a second before gently taking Len's hand into hers.
She pulled him a fraction closer, until he stood right against her knees.
The silence in the room was so heavy they could almost hear the synchronized rhythm of each other's breathing.
"Len..." Astria lowered her voice to a conspiratorial register, as if she were about to unveil a monumental secret.
Her fingers traced the faint lines on his palm. "What exactly were you doing behind that door just now?"
"And why were you in such a state of panic?" A mischievous inquiry danced in Astria's eyes.
Len bit his tongue and averted his gaze, staring intently at a distant corner of the room.
His silence screamed his reluctance to face the question, but Astria's grip on his hand remained firm.
A hold that promised not to loosen until the truth was yielded. Astria's grip on his hand was as soft as silk, yet it carried an unspoken authority.
Len lowered his gaze and scuffed the toe of his boot against the rug, whispering in a voice so faint it barely disturbed the air.
"I... I wasn't doing anything," he muttered, turning his face away as if suddenly fascinated by a secret hidden within the chamber walls.
Astria watched this stubborn, childish display, and another deep smile surfaced on her lips.
With a subtle flick of her eyes, she gestured toward the empty space on the bed where the velvet sheets were neatly spread.
"Come and sit here, Len," there was a low resonance in her words. Len understood the gesture perfectly, but his feet remained rooted to the spot.
The embarrassment from the bathing incident still left a faint flush upon his cheeks.
He refused to budge, as if hoping he might simply blend into the patterns of the carpet. Astria's patience was thinning.
But a wave of mischief was rising in her mind. Without any warning, she grasped Len's hand firmly and gave it a sudden, decisive yank.
Before Len could even attempt to find his balance, he was tossed unceremoniously onto the plush mattress of the royal bed.
Len's small legs dangled off the edge of the bed, swinging in the air. His eyes widened in shock at the sudden maneuver.
In a flurry of motion, he kicked his legs and tried to push himself up using his hands against the bed. But Astria moved even faster.
Just as Len pressed his palms into the mattress to rise, Astria leaned over and pinned both of his hands beneath her own.
She didn't give him a chance to move. They were now inches apart. Len was half-reclined on the bed, and Astria was hovering over him.
The scent of her velvet gown weaving a cocoon around them. Len's face was now a vibrant shade of crimson.
A strange confusion mixed with an innocent shame clouded his gaze.
He made a weak, futile effort to pull his wrists free and then asked in a low, stuttering voice: "What... what are you doing?"
Astria didn't offer a word of reply. She simply took a long, deep breath.
That breath carried a sense of profound peace and a gravity that suddenly shifted the temperature of the room.
Her eyes delved deep into Len's, as if she intended to read the great secret hidden within the small boy without a single word being spoken.
Astria's hold on Len's wrists remained as firm as ever, like someone grasping their most precious possession.
She slowly released that long, deep breath, its warmth brushing against the sensitive skin of Len's face.
A smile now played upon her lips—a delicate balance between a victor's pride and a guardian's affection.
"Why are you so shy with me, Len?" Astria lowered her voice, making it even softer and more resonant.
As if she were weaving a lullaby. She narrowed her eyes slightly and spoke with a deceptive simplicity.
"In the past, so many servant vampires of this palace have assisted you in your baths and in getting dressed."
"You never hesitated like this then... so why this sudden shame with me today?"
Astria's logic ignited a spark within Len. He snapped his gaze upward, looking directly into her eyes.
His voice rang out with a sudden, sharp streak of stubbornness and pride.
"But I don't let anyone else touch me anymore!" Len shot back instantly.
His tone no longer belonged to a mere child; it sounded like someone who had declared his own independence.
"I've given up relying on the hands of others long ago. I know my own dignity." Astria's smile widened.
She found Len's sudden surge of self-reliance fascinating. She arched a brow and leaned in closer, until their breaths mingled.
"Oh? Is that so?" Astria teased, her voice dripping with mischief.
"But Len, you were the one who confessed that you like me very much... so why so much shame before the one you favor?"
"Is your affection so fragile that my mere presence renders you this breathless and unnerved?"
Her words struck Len's defensive walls like a battering ram, shattering them in a single blow.
The moment the words 'like' and 'affection' echoed in the quiet chamber, Len's entire frame shuddered.
The crimson on his cheeks surged, staining his ears and neck. He was utterly speechless.
His 'Young Lord' poise and those cold, calculating eyes melted away in a single heartbeat.
Sensing his complete surrender, Astria gently loosened her grip. She slid her fingers away from his wrists, granting him his freedom.
*L
But as soon as Len felt the weight lift, he didn't try to rise or flee.
Instead, with a lightning-fast motion, he pressed both palms over his face, shielding himself entirely from her view.
He remained there, sprawled upon the velvet bed. His legs still dangled off the edge, but he didn't dare move a muscle.
He had barricaded himself behind his own hands, desperate to vanish from the world and from Astria's searching gaze.
A heavy silence descended upon the room once more, broken only by the frantic rhythm of Len's breathing.
He didn't get up, and he didn't utter a word—he simply stayed there, buried in his own embarrassment amidst the deep red rugs and silken sheets.