The light sound of Ligia's shoes echoed through the corridors carved from black marble streaked with silver. Her dress moved with a calm sway, the light fabric brushing against the polished stone. And she was humming.
Not a common melody.
It was something foreign, almost hypnotic. A soft beat pulled from the memory of another life. Her voice was low but clear:
"I'm bulletproof... nothing to lose... fire away, fire away..."
She swayed her hips gently to the rhythm, eyes slightly unfocused, still lost in images of the gardens and her dress sketches. The English slipped out naturally, like a second skin — each syllable a spell from another time.
Up ahead, two maids in pristine aprons stopped when they saw her pass.
Ligia didn't notice.
She kept singing, twirling a strand of silver hair around her finger, daydreaming.
The maids exchanged glances, perplexed.
"She's... singing?" whispered the younger, hiding behind the tray.
"I think so. But... what language was that?"
"Sounded like something from another world"
"She's been acting strange..."
"Weird, but beautiful. Did you see her eyes today? Almost... stellar"
"Shhh! Saying that out loud is a sin"
They giggled nervously and walked in the opposite direction.
Ligia, oblivious to it all, turned the corridor toward her room.
"Ricochet... you take your aim..."
With a gentle push, she entered.
The wood creaked softly as the door closed. The room smelled of lavender and amber, the sheets calling to her like open arms.
She threw the papers onto her desk, kicked off her shoes in the middle of the room, and jumped straight onto the center of the bed.
FLOOMP.
She sank into it like diving into clouds. Her hair spread around her face, bangs sticking to her damp forehead.
"System..." she murmured, smiling.
A small ball of light rose from the pillow. Then came the ethereal cat, floating as if just waking from a cosmic nap.
"Yes, modern princess?" it purred with a wink.
Ligia turned her face, voice muffled in the sheets.
"I want to resume classes with Lady Asvalira..."
The system froze midair.
Then clicked its tongue like tasting an incoming disaster.
"Ah. Of course you do. Because suffering once wasn't enough, huh?"
Ligia grinned, venomous.
"Learning hurts. But being a woman who can't seduce... now that would be pathetic"
The system laughed, wicked.
"Activating session. But just so you know, Lady Asvalira said you've been... slow"
"Let her come. I'll handle it this time"
Light grew around the bed.
The real world dissolved.
Hours later.
Training with Lady Asvalira had been... intense.
Even amid magic mirrors, ballroom projections, and sensual lessons on voice, gaze, hips, hands, and words — everything left a mark. More on the soul than the body.
Ligia slept in the center of the bed, a sheet loosely covering her. One leg exposed. Hair like silver silk in disarray. Breathing soft. Lips slightly parted. Vulnerable, for real.
Clack.
The door opened discreetly.
Firm steps.
"Miss Ligia"
Vael's calm, deep, meticulously controlled voice echoed through the room.
Silence.
He stepped closer. He watched the heiress with the impassiveness of a statue — but his eyes glimmered in the morning light.
"Miss..."
Two knocks with his knuckles at the foot of the bed.
"It's time"
Ligia mumbled something illegible, her hand sprawled across her face.
Vael waited. As always.
She rolled over, still drowsy, muttering.
"Lady Asvalira... annoying... promiscuous... stiletto sadist..."
Vael raised an eyebrow. Rare. Almost an event.
"...Promiscuous?"
Ligia opened her eyes, half-closed, recognizing him. She rolled them.
She turned facedown like a rebellious child.
"None of your business, Vael..."
"As you wish"
Impenetrable. But he lingered a second longer than necessary.
"The bath is drawn. Lavender, verbena, and amber salts. Clothes are laid out. All that's missing... is you"
"Ugh"
She dragged herself out of bed, her feet hitting the floor with a soft thump.
"You always show up like this? In the middle of the best sleep? What are you, a butler or a nap reaper?"
Vael crossed his arms.
"Both. If needed"
"Wake me like this again and I'll cast a spell that turns your voice into meowing for a week..."
Vael didn't reply.
But his eyes sparkled. For a second.
Ligia shoved the bathroom door open with a lazy gesture.
CLACK.
Steam leaked beneath it. Inside, essential oils formed colorful whirlpools. Petals floated. The hot water sang promises of rest.
In front of the mirror, Ligia paused.
Tangled hair. Half-open eyes. Skin flushed — either from the lesson or the dream still pulsing in her blood.
She stared at herself.
Muttered, resigned:
"Damn Lady Asvalira... why do her lessons make me feel alive and humiliated at the same time?"
She tossed the nightgown aside.
Sank into the water with a groan of pure relief.
Fssshhht.
The steam filled the room.
And for a moment, the world forgot to exist.