The night was like thick ink from a stone, staining every inch of the Demon King’s Castle with a deep, quiet gloom.
Only the waning moon hanging in the firmament occasionally peeked through the heavy layers of clouds to shed a few strands of cold radiance, barely outlining the sneaky, hurried figure in the corridor.
Ling Xiya wore a thin white nightgown.
She was barefoot, and the icy floor made her shudder, yet she did not slow her pace in the slightest.
Her cheeks were flushed with an unnatural fever, and her breathing was slightly labored.
At this moment, her eyes were occupied by a dark emotion so thick it could not be dissolved.
She was intimately familiar with Isayat’s room, as if it were the lines on her own palm.
Without making a single unnecessary sound, Ling Xiya gently pushed open the heavy door carved with intricate magic sigils.
What leaked from the crack in the door was not the darkness she had expected, but a soft, shimmering light carrying a faint fragrance.
It was the scent of the calming incense Isayat frequently used, but now it acted like a catalyst, making the restlessness in Ling Xiya’s heart surge even more violently.
On the large bed in the center of the room, Isayat lay on her side.
Her long golden hair was spread across the silky pillow like a waterfall under the moonlight, and a few stray hairs fell across her exquisite collarbone.
She seemed to be sleeping deeply; her breathing was steady and slow, and her stunning face looked exceptionally peaceful in the dim light — it even carried a rare softness that was seldom seen during the day.
Ling Xiya held her breath like a cautious little beast, moving toward the bedside step by step.
Her gaze was greedily fixed on Isayat’s sleeping face, moving from her smooth forehead to the bridge of her straight nose, and then to the corners of her lips that always held a hint of a lazy smile…
Every detail made her heart race, and her body trembled slightly from excessive excitement and tension.
She reached out, her fingertips shaking as she almost reverently brushed a lock of golden hair that had fallen beside Isayat’s cheek.
The hair felt cool and smooth, like the finest silk, prompting her to rub it repeatedly between her fingers.
The moment Ling Xiya’s fingertips touched Isayat’s hair, the eyelashes of the woman on the bed flickered imperceptibly.
She had been awake for a long time.
From the moment Ling Xiya’s unique aura and slightly hurried heartbeat sounded outside the door, Isayat had known.
She could even clearly “see” the complicated emotions of the little thing outside — the conflict, the longing, and the hint of cowardice.
‘Truly… she is getting bolder and bolder,’ Isayat laughed inwardly, yet she had no intention of waking up.
She maintained her sleeping posture and even deliberately made her breathing more rhythmic.
However, her pink pupils, hidden beneath her eyelids, flickered with a light that saw through everything.
She “watched” the little one by the bed, who was currently carrying out a “secret mission,” with great interest.
Seeing that Isayat had no reaction, the final shred of hesitation in Ling Xiya’s heart vanished.
Her courage gradually grew.
She carefully reached out both hands and gently touched the thin quilt covering Isayat.
The quilt was light and soft, carrying Isayat’s unique body heat and fragrance.
Ling Xiya’s fingers trembled as she pulled the quilt down, inch by agonizingly slow inch.
As the quilt slid away, Isayat’s graceful curves were gradually revealed.
She wore only a thin silk nightgown with a low neckline, exposing a large area of porcelain-white skin and her delicate collarbones to the air.
Ling Xiya’s breathing instantly became heavy.
Her cheeks were so red they looked as if they might drip blood, but her eyes grew brighter and brighter, like a child who had found the most precious treasure.
Her gaze was almost tangible as she heatedly traced the elegant line of Isayat’s neck and her tempting collarbones.
She craved to touch her, craved to feel this person’s existence from an even closer distance.
This craving was like an addiction, gnawing at her sanity and making her act with reckless abandon.
Ling Xiya slowly leaned down, pressing her cheek gently against the hollow of Isayat’s shoulder.
The skin there was warm and soft, still carrying that faint, pleasant scent.
She greedily inhaled Isayat’s scent, feeling the vibration of that steady, powerful heartbeat through the thin fabric.
It brought her instant peace, and her body stopped trembling so violently.
After a long while, Ling Xiya seemed to make a decision.
She lifted her head, her eyes filled with obsession and a possessiveness that bordered on destructive.
Her fingers, burning with heat, slowly and tentatively reached toward the neckline of Isayat’s nightgown.
The silk fabric was incredibly smooth, sliding easily under her fingertips.
Her movements were slow, carrying a clumsy sort of devotion as she pulled the obstructive neckline down bit by bit.
More skin was exposed; the delicate texture and elegant lines made Ling Xiya’s throat move as she swallowed hard.
Her fingertips finally trembled as they touched the skin she had dreamed of.
“Mmm…”
Isayat seemed disturbed by the cool touch, letting out a very faint mumble in her sleep as her body moved slightly.
Ling Xiya froze in terror, her heart nearly leaping out of her chest.
She watched Isayat tensely, terrified that she might wake up.
However, Isayat merely rolled over, shifting onto her back as if falling into a deeper sleep.
It was a false alarm.
Ling Xiya patted her chest, but she had no intention of backing down.
On the contrary, Isayat’s unconscious movement made her even bolder.
Now, almost Isayat’s entire upper body was exposed before her eyes.
Ling Xiya’s gaze became completely blurred and frantic.
She was no longer satisfied with just looking and touching lightly.
Her hands began to roam over Isayat’s body as if they had a mind of their own.
She stroked Isayat’s smooth shoulders, feeling the skin that was as fine as porcelain; she traced the elegant curves of her collarbones, her fingertips lingering in the shallow hollows; she even boldly slid her hand to Isayat’s waist, feeling the startling suppleness and hidden strength there.
Her movements became more uninhibited and daring, driven by a nearly pathological infatuation and a desire to explore.
Her cheeks grew hot with excitement, and her breathing became increasingly ragged, puffing against Isayat’s neck with moist, warm air.
Isayat never woke.
She could clearly feel the little one’s burning, emotional touch, the trembling of her fingertips, her hurried breath, and the undisguised love and possessiveness that almost overflowed from her heart.
‘What an… ignorant little thing,’ Isayat sighed inwardly again, the corners of her lips curving into an unnoticed smile that carried both indulgence and a sense of absolute control.
Could she stop her? Of course she could.
With just a look or a single thought, she could scare Ling Xiya out of her wits, ensuring she never dared to cross the line again.
But she didn’t want to.
This was a supreme sense of control.
Every heartbeat, every breath, every look, and every movement of Ling Xiya’s was held firmly in the palm of her hand.
She was her creator, her god, and her only faith.
Ling Xiya’s stroking carried a raw fervor, as if she wanted to carve every inch of Isayat’s skin into her mind and meld it into her very blood.
She leaned down, burying her face in the crook of Isayat’s neck, nuzzling gently with her nose like a small pet seeking comfort from its master.
She unconsciously murmured, “Master… my Master…”
“You can only be mine…”
“No one can take you away…”
“If you dare leave me… I’ll…”
The following words were muffled and unclear, carrying a heart-palsying hint of madness and obsession.
Isayat could feel the trembling in the little one’s voice and the almost desperate attachment within it.
She narrowed her eyes slightly, a dark light flashing through her pink pupils.
She reached out — not to stop her, but naturally, as if in the middle of a dream.
She draped her arm across Ling Xiya’s back and patted her gently, the movement carrying a sense of reassurance.
“Mmm…”
She let out a blurred, sleepy response.
Ling Xiya’s body went rigid.
‘Did Master… wake up?’
No, she hadn’t.
Master was just talking in her sleep, just making unconscious movements… it had to be that.
However, in the next second, she felt the hand on her back apply a slight pressure, pressing her more firmly into Isayat’s embrace.
The strength wasn’t heavy, but it carried an undeniable sense of authority.
Ling Xiya was completely stunned.
She lifted her head, looking at Isayat’s nearby sleeping face through tear-filled eyes.
Her heart was filled with confusion, fear, and a secret, unspoken expectation.
She didn’t know that at that moment, Isayat was using those pink eyes that saw through everything to whisper to her in her heart:
‘Sleep, my little flower. In my embrace, lose yourself to your heart’s content. Do not be afraid, and do not retreat. I will give you everything you desire.
Because you are the most beautiful… dark flower… that I nurtured with my own hands… the one who belongs only to me. From now on, your world can only contain me. Your breath, your heartbeat, your soul… they will all belong to me forever.’