"Oh, she's gone~!"
"She's done for. That's it. It's over. We lost her."
"She's blushing so hard! LOOK!"
"That's not a blush, that's a whole damn fever!"
"Oh, Sultan, you idiot! Do you even realize what you just did?!"
"Tch—"
An older man shook his head.
"For a second, I really thought something was about to happen."
"I mean—"
A woman standing next to him smirked at those words.
"—it kinda did. Look at her."
All at once, as if they were a single entity, everyone turned to Safira.
She was frozen.
Like a Holy Relic caught in a seeker's sights.
Eyes bore into her from every direction, each gaze filled with expectation, curiosity, and, in some cases, barely restrained laughter.
Her past self, on the projection, was already a shade of red that nearly rivaled the setting Shams. A rare sight. A rare, beautiful humiliation that none of them had ever witnessed before.
But the Safira of the present?
Oh, it was worse.
Because now, she was not just red.
