Grace had a problem.
After the scare caused by the Demoness one month ago, Liam's routine had changed. He still fought in the battle cages early in the day and dealt with concoctions afterward, but sword practice now followed them.
Before Grace knew it, she had developed a new hobby, one she attended religiously every time she could, like it was happening now.
Grace brought a cup to her lips, sipping the excellent booze while her eyes remained glued to the shirtless, sweaty figure in an empty spot further away in the cave.
Liam was swinging the greatsword, not performing any battle stance, but that wasn't what Grace paid attention to. Her gaze followed the drops of sweat running down his skin, the way his big, defined muscles tensed, the shine his figure gained under the cave's illumination, and his focused face.
'I'm addicted,' Grace found herself thinking, self-deprecation in her tone, but she still didn't look away.
