The room was still small. Not dungeon-cell small, but just enough to make the walls feel closer when shut. Its faded wallpaper curled at the corners.
The bed creaked the moment Leonhardt sat down, and the scent of mildew mingled with the sweet, almost intoxicating air that Zafira carried with her body. It wasn't particularly romantic. It was cheap, dirty, and barely lit by a single flame flickering on the half-spent candle.
Yet Zafira adored it.
She dropped her cloak over the rust hook on the door, turning back with a mischievous smile that curled with something warm and wicked. "You didn't say no."
Leonhardt leaned back against the wall, one knee raised, his hands placed on the bed. "I didn't say yes either."
Her tail flicked once behind her, playful, testing the air. "Then why'd you follow me in here, Dungeon Master?"
"So I'm only your Master during these moments?" he chuckled, watching her intently.
