Ira's arm shot forward with the agility of a snake strike, her fingers closing in on the edge of Daseos's mask.
The mask was already lifting off when his reflexes kicked in.
One hand shot out, gripping her wrist while his other hand swooped up to cover her eyes.
With a swift yank, he pulled her arm toward him, flipping the situation quite literally on its head.
The force of the pull sent Ira stumbling over the table, her lips inadvertently meeting his in a flash of accidental intimacy.
Their lips parted as suddenly as they had met.
A scarlet hue crept onto Ira's cheeks, a blush she couldn't hide even if she wanted to.
But before she could slide out from under his hand covering her eyes, Daseos had already snagged his mask back, deftly securing it back on his face.
He eased back into his chair as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
His focus returned to the contract, his eyes scanning line after line with meticulous care.
'That was too close. Keep it together, Daseos,'
As Daseos busied himself with the final lines of the contract, Ira's hand involuntarily rose to her lips, her fingers lightly brushing against them as though trying to capture the fleeting sensation that had just occurred.
'Did that just... happen?'
She thought, her mind racing as fast as her heartbeat.
As her fingertips left her lips and returned to her lap, Ira caught herself stealing another glance at Daseos.
He was flipping the last page of the contract, wholly unaware of the thoughts roiling inside her head.
'My first kiss... I've been saving it, thinking it would be some sort of epic moment, and now, it's gone. Snagged by a man whose face I haven't even seen.'
She felt a strange mix of frustration and curiosity.
'What if he's some old man! No, his lips felt… handsome? Ira get it together! You're losing your mind!'
'But why does it feel like... like it's not entirely regrettable?'
The thought surprised her.
Daseos had demonstrated impressive skill and speed; he wasn't some random nobody.
And there was something about him, something that drew her in, even if she couldn't quite put her finger on it.
She shook her head subtly, trying to snap out of her thoughts.
"Focus, Ira. He's just another contender, a pawn in the clan's grand scheme."
Still, she couldn't deny the strange sense of intrigue that lingered in the air, much like the fading blush on her cheeks.
Ira finally snapped out of it and broke the electrifying silence, her voice slightly shaky.
"Well, if you're done reading every single line, can we get on with the signing?"
Daseos lifted a finger, indicating she should wait—almost mimicking her earlier gesture—as he reviewed the last bits of the contract.
From the side, Alucard couldn't help but grin inside.
Alucard's eyes flickered between the two, his lips curling into a knowing smile.
'The young master is truly unpredictable.'
Having satisfied his scrutiny, Daseos finally nodded and signed.
"Fifty thousand at 1:20 odds. I'll be expecting my million by the end of the night."
As Daseos stood up, his dark cloak billowing behind him, he strode toward the steel doors of the elevator.
Ira smirked.
"Hehe, that's only if you win. You sure you can last even one round?"
As they entered the elevator, Daseos shot back,
"I can last however many rounds you'd like, little princess. Would you like to experience it yourself?"
Ira barely concealed a gasp as Daseos's brazen words lingered in the air.
Her face flushed a bright shade of red, her fingertips tingling as if they had touched an electric current.
"This insolent—"
Ira's cheeks flushed crimson, her eyes flashing.
Alucard's eyes widened, as startled by Daseos's audacity as he was impressed.
'Young Master Daseos is playing a dangerous game here, but what guts he has! Kissing the young mistress and then delivering that line! My, oh my!'
With a sense of near panic, his fingers scrambled to hit the [Close] button on the elevator.
Before Ira could hurl what looked like a sleek, expensive calculator in her hand toward Daseos, the elevator doors snapped shut, saving the moment from escalating into something far less civil.
*Claaank!*
The calculator shattered against the closed doors, its pieces scattering like fallen soldiers.
Ira's lips twisted into a half-smile, half-snarl.
"Hmph! Pervert!"
Yet, as the shards of the calculator lay strewn across her expensive carpet, Ira couldn't quite shake Daseos from her mind.
'His voice... it had a youthful ring to it. Could he be close to my age?'
Her lips still tingled from their earlier contact, and the young heiress found herself stifling a smile that she had no business wearing.
'A masked, insolent, and possibly age-compatible pervert... How dreadfully interesting.'
Alucard's eyes twinkled like stars, his thumb enthusiastically pointing upwards.
"Great work, Young Master! Just think, if you were to—ahem—win over Young Mistress Ira, imagine the resources the Wrath family could bring!"
The thought seemed to make him salivate, dollar signs practically spinning in his eyes.
For a brief moment, Alucard looked like a character straight out of a cartoon, his greed laid bare.
Daseos rolled his eyes at Alucard's antics, but his clenched fist was a testament to his own focus.
'Money, resources, alliances—all of it's meaningless without strength.'
In Antagonia, power was the currency of survival.
It was a realm that wore its name like an emblem, unforgiving and stark.
Here, darkness wasn't just a shroud that veiled the land; it was the very fabric of society.
Villainy and prowess weren't just lifestyle choices; they were prerequisites for life itself.
Compassion? A laughable concept.
Mercy? A sign of weakness.
The only law that mattered was the law of the strong.
Those who couldn't measure up were cast aside, forgotten like dust in the wind.
In this world, your worth was measured not by who you were, but by what you could achieve, by the victories you could claim and the adversaries you could crush underfoot.
'If you're not winning, you're losing. And losers in Antagonia don't get a second chance.'
The elevator dinged, snapping him back to the moment.
The doors slid open, revealing the arena that lay ahead.
A battlefield where he would either rise to new heights or get trampled into oblivion.
His mask concealed his face, but not his resolve. And as he stepped out, one thing was abundantly clear:
Daseos wasn't here to lose.