“Should I close my eyes?”
Luò Lán heard his own voice come out a little dry. The light from the desk lamp danced on the tips of Clovis’s hair, outlining her silhouette in a way that felt faintly unreal.
“…I don’t care what you do.”
Clovis spoke softly. Her fingers had already found the buttons of his coat.
Her movements were gentle. Luò Lán’s back rested against the sofa; he could feel her nimble fingertips undoing the buttons at his collar, then sliding the garment off his shoulders.
The slightly cool air touched his skin, making him unconsciously tense his back.
“Relax a little.”
Clovis’s voice came from right in front of him, carrying a trace of helplessness. Her fingertips lightly traced across his chest, searching through the last thin layer of undergarment for the nodes of his mana circuit.
—Replenish and exchange… shouldn’t that be my line?
Luò Lán gave a wry smile inside.
Whenever Clovis needed to deal with a mana outburst, Luò Lán would serve as the medium, using his own body to guide the restless magic power inside her and let it flow smoothly again.
It required extensive skin contact — and absolute, unconditional trust.
This had been their routine for years.
In truth, allowing direct contact between mana circuits was extremely dangerous — it was equivalent to baring all of one’s vulnerabilities to another person without reservation.
They had been doing this for the past seven years, and Luò Lán had long grown accustomed to it. Yet for some reason, this time felt distinctly different.
Clovis’s palm was warm; the heat passed through the final thin layer of clothing. Her breathing was only inches away. She knelt straddling his lap, her body leaning slightly forward.
“You seem especially nervous today.”
The girl suddenly spoke, her voice very quiet.
“Do I?” Luò Lán tried to make himself sound natural. “Besides, I’m pretty sure those were my lines before.”
Clovis didn’t answer. Her fingers paused over his chest, then gently pressed down. A gentle stream of mana flowed from her palm, slowly traveling along Luò Lán’s mana circuit.
The room fell silent, leaving only the sound of their intertwined breathing.
By all rights, it should now be Clovis’s turn to undress… though not completely — some necessary covering was still required.
Luò Lán felt her take a deep breath. Her fingers released his collar and instead caught the ribbon at the neckline of her own dress.
Then she gave a light tug.
The ribbon came undone. The front of the dress loosened. Clovis’s hands grasped the edges and drew them apart; the dress slipped down her shoulders and gathered at her waist, revealing the thin undergarment beneath.
Luò Lán instinctively wanted to turn his face away.
But the moment he moved, a slightly cool hand cupped his cheek and firmly turned his face back toward her.
“…It’s not like we’re doing anything shameful. Why turn away?”
Clovis’s voice was soft; a faint blush colored her cheeks. Whether from mana exhaustion or the current situation, her fingers were trembling slightly.
Luò Lán felt his gaze had nowhere safe to land.
He looked at the delicate line of her collarbone, at the gentle rise and fall that followed each breath, at the silver hair spilling loose across her shoulders.
Clovis seemed to notice his discomfort. The corners of her mouth curved slightly. Her finger drew a small circle on his chest; mana flowed in its wake, sending ripples through his circuit.
“What are you thinking about?”
“…Nothing.”
“Liar.” Clovis lowered her lashes, gaze fixed on his chest. “Your heartbeat just got faster.”
Her voice carried a faint breathlessness. After speaking, she opened her arms and pressed herself against his chest, forehead resting on his shoulder.
Then the mana came rushing in like a flood.
Luò Lán pressed his lips together and let out a muffled grunt, accepting the wild surge into his own circuit. He closed his eyes and guided it, letting the power race through his pathways again and again until the ferocious force was gradually tamed — until it could finally be controlled.
Over the years, it wasn’t just Clovis’s magical skill that had grown; the periodic violent outbursts of mana had also become stronger.
Luò Lán could feel her arms tighten around his waist, and the way she struggled to keep her breathing steady.
Another half hour passed like that.
When the last trace of restless mana finally settled, Luò Lán let out a long breath of relief. He wanted to help the girl in his arms sit up straight, but Clovis’s body had gone soft, as though all strength had been drained from her.
Eyes closed, she leaned back into his embrace, cheek pressed to his chest, quietly listening to his still-rapid heartbeat.
Luò Lán lowered his head to look at the girl in his arms, momentarily at a loss for words.
Her frame was still delicate. His hand rested on the smooth skin of her back; he could feel the subtle rise and fall of her body with each breath.
The lamplight cast two entwined shadows on the wall.
A long while later, Clovis slowly straightened up.
Her cheeks were flushed — whether from mana depletion or something else, he couldn’t tell. Her gaze drifted, avoiding his eyes; she only lowered her lashes and stared at her own fingers clutching the hem of her dress.
“Tomorrow… we still have to keep studying, right?”
Clovis lifted her eyes to look at him, voice soft and cottony.
“Of course.”
Luò Lán nodded. He reached out to tidy her slightly disheveled collar. His fingertips brushed the warm, fine skin at her collarbone; Clovis gave a small involuntary shiver.
He moved carefully, retying the ribbon at her neckline and forming a neat little bow.
Clovis pressed her lips together as though she wanted to say something more, but in the end she swallowed the words.
She stood up. Bare feet stepped onto the soft carpet.
Her small, fair feet stood out strikingly against the dark carpet; slender ankles, gracefully curved arches, shell-pink toenails.
Clovis walked step by step toward the study door. Just before pulling it open, she turned back; her soft pink lips moved again.
“So… good night, my dear advisor.”
“And to you, my Highness.”
The study door closed gently, shutting Clovis’s departing figure outside.
Luò Lán remained sunk deep in the sofa, motionless for a long time.
It felt as though the faint fragrance of Clovis still lingered in the air; the warmth of her cheek still remained on his chest. Those sensations — some deep, some shallow — had imprinted themselves onto him.
Luò Lán raised a hand and rubbed his own slightly feverish cheek.
Only then did he rise from the sofa and walk back to the desk. The book still lay open to the page he had been reading earlier. He closed it and returned it to its proper place on the shelf.
His fingertips slowly trailed along a row of book spines.
Outside the window, the moon had finally emerged fully from behind the clouds. Cold, clear moonlight poured through the glass and spread a layer of silver frost across the floor.