Jason stood alone in the empty common room, the door to Mira's quarters shut firmly behind her. The hearth was cold. The table was bare. The only light came from a single lantern hanging near the door, casting long shadows across the wooden floor.
He should have left. Mira had told him to get out. But his legs felt heavy, and his mind was still spinning from the conversation about licenses and dungeon crawls. So he lingered. Just for a moment to snoop around to see if there was something he could use in the future.
That's when he noticed something at the side of the room.
A small scrap of fabric, crumpled near the leg of a chair. Dark purple. Silk, maybe. Jason squinted, stepping closer.
It was a pair of panties.
Not the kind Ylva wore—those were practical, plain, designed for movement. These were delicate. Lace-trimmed. The kind of thing someone wore to feel pretty, not to fight monsters.
