My brief yet indulgently deep nap is cut short when the car comes to a stop. Finally, I see the place where Wilde Seede grows—or rather, lives. When I first arrived in this world, I only had the approximate location from the original Faye's memories. Even after hiring Uno and getting the precise address, I never had the time or reason to visit—until now. Let's see what kind of dark, seedy—pun absolutely intended—place the supervillain of this world calls home.
Without a word, Wilde moves to my side of the car, his actions as precise as ever. Like a well-trained puppy—one with a menacing aura, of course—he picks me up gingerly, cradling me as if I'm a fragile porcelain doll packed in a delivery box marked fragile: handle with care. I never imagined he'd keep carrying me like this after I jokingly asked him to, but here we are. And I'd be a fool to refuse. Lounging in his arms like a lazy cat, I relish in the comfort. The white lotus female leads of all those dramas would probably be cursing me right now, but why resist when being pampered feels so good? Besides, he's not technically mine—yet. But let's be real, it's only a matter of time.
We step into the underground parking lot of an expensive, understated apartment complex. The muted tones of concrete and steel scream quiet luxury. A few people returning home glance our way but say nothing, their indifference a clear sign of the exclusivity of this place. Wilde's grip around me is secure but gentle, and I feel a surge of satisfaction. The tension between us still hums, but I can't help enjoying the fact that he's carrying me as if I'm something precious.
For all the unresolved tension, there's a delicious thrill in the air. This is Wilde's world—dark, 'seedy', and intoxicatingly dangerous. As he carries me toward whatever lies ahead, I feel a growing anticipation. The storm hasn't hit yet, but I can feel it brewing.
When i reach his house—what should I do first? Should I rummage through his things, uncover his secrets? Or maybe trap him against the wall, my hand landing firmly beside his head in a sudden kabedon? Perhaps, I could take it a step further, pressing him beneath me on his bed. Of course, all of this is just to throw him off, distract him from the real game. It certainly has nothing to do with the fact that I'm still a hungry, restless ghost, aching for his flesh. No, not at all.
"Press it," his voice reaches me, calm and steady.
Before I can catch myself, I respond, "Huh? Should I really?"
His eyes shift to me briefly, a flicker of confusion crossing his face before his gaze lands on the elevator buttons. Ah, right.
"Which floor?" I ask, the question slipping out as casually as I can manage, despite the way my pulse is quickening.
I feel his warmth against me, and even though my face flushes with my own impure thoughts, I force myself to stay composed.
"Seventeen," he replies, utterly unbothered, as if my behavior is nothing out of the ordinary. His calmness unnerves me. Here I am—his former tormentor, enemy turned supposed lover, having kissed him and moved in without warning—and he accepts it all without a single question.
Even Faye's parents eye me with growing suspicion, but him? He simply holds me, watches me, and remains unsettlingly calm. It scares me. And not much scares me usually.