"Nicole, you don't need to wait outside. Go back to the car. Novak and I will be down shortly. We're heading home for dinner tonight."
"Yes, madam!"
Although Nicole hesitated for a moment, she obeyed Daphne's order and glanced back at the room before leaving. Deep down, she knew that her presence wouldn't make a difference. That man was terrifying.
It was beyond her comprehension—someone able to dodge bullets purely with speed and reflexes. Such a thing felt impossible.
Of course, Nicole couldn't begin to imagine what was happening inside that room right now.
Novak glanced at the young nurse still asleep in the corner. Though there hadn't been much noise earlier, she remained undisturbed. Then again, after being with him for hours and working night shifts, her deep sleep wasn't surprising.
His eyes shifted to Daphne.
The poised, wealthy socialite from De M-anila had regained her composed, elegant demeanor. Despite everything, Novak had done nothing more than play a few role-playing games with her. This Daphne was not yet the powerful matriarch she would become—such a prized meal needed to be cultivated, savored slowly.
Dressed in a long black gown, Daphne exuded both elegance and allure. The dress fell just below her knees, perfectly tailored for her height. From an outsider's perspective, one might easily mistake her for a woman in her prime, her mature beauty and dignified bearing making her appear timeless.
Yet, if one looked closely, subtle but noticeable bumps formed beneath the fabric of her dress. With each step she took, something furry briefly peeked out from under the hem.
Novak silently marveled at her adaptability. It was no wonder she would one day become a Saint. The signs were already showing.
Catching Novak's teasing glance, Daphne blushed ever so slightly. Never in her life had she imagined herself playing such games at her age. But... there was something undeniably intriguing about it all.
From a psychological perspective, this contrast made perfect sense. The more serious a person appears on the outside, the more they crave contrasting behavior on the inside. Daphne was a clear example of this, and Novak had given her a reason she couldn't refuse.
If she couldn't resist... why not enjoy it?
Novak was certain of it now.
"Let's go," he said suddenly.
Daphne stiffened slightly, but Novak chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it before we reach the car and head home. Unless... you want to try it?"
A fleeting expression crossed Daphne's face, but she quickly regained her composure. They left the room, taking the private elevator down. As they stepped out, Daphne exhaled quietly. Her face was cold and composed once more, embodying the same regal posture she held as the "Queen" of De M-anila.
Novak walked beside her, a sly smile tugging at his lips, and casually offered his arm. Daphne took it without hesitation. Thankfully, it wasn't the weekend, and the hotel, though a luxury hotel, was quiet. No one lingered in the lobby, a fact that brought Daphne some relief.
Yet, deep inside, an unfamiliar thrill stirred within her—an excitement she hadn't felt in years.
Just as they were about to leave, a voice called out, filled with surprise.
"Novak?!"
Daphne tensed instantly, her grip on Novak's arm tightening. Novak, still smiling, turned toward the source of the voice.
An acquaintance.
In fact, three of them.
It was Zamu, Gehn, and Lig—Novak's old college roommates. What were the odds they'd run into him here?
"It really is you!" Zamu said, rushing over, only to stop in his tracks when he saw Daphne. His eyes widened at the sight of her, a stunning woman with an air of wealth and class.
The glittering diamond watch on Daphne's wrist—Vacheron Constantin Malte, to be exact—caught his attention. He recognises it as a luxury piece worth millions, solidifying Daphne's image as a rich and influential woman.
Novak glanced at his friends. "What are you guys doing here?"
Zamu, unfazed, answered casually. "Flange and Shore from school are hosting a card game upstairs. We're here to join in."
Novak nodded. There were always different types of students at school—some were top students with bright futures, others were rich kids simply looking for fun.
It was only natural that such gatherings would attract both. People like Zamu were well-connected and could easily gather a group of friends for a night of betting, sometimes making tens of thousands in a single evening.
Novak smiled and nodded again, but it was Gehn who hesitantly spoke next.
"Mrs. Song?"
Daphne froze once more.
As the school director of De M-anila, it wasn't unusual for Novak's classmates to recognize her, even if she rarely attended events. And while Daphne couldn't let her discomfort show, she gave a gracious smile.
"Hello," she greeted them warmly.
"So, it really is you. I saw you at a conference once," Gehn said, clearly surprised.
Daphne exhaled inwardly, her nerves settling. "Yes, but I have something to discuss with Novak, so we'll be heading off now."
She glanced at Novak, and when he offered no objection, she quickly guided him toward the hotel entrance.
Once they were out of earshot, Lig let out a frustrated sigh. "No wonder Novak doesn't go after any of the pretty girls at school, not even Dane. Turns out, he's being taken care of by a rich woman!"
Gehn gave him a withering look. "You idiot, she is Dane's mother!"
"Huh?!"
Zamu's face reflected the same shock. Lig stood there, mouth agape.
Gehn, still frowning, stared thoughtfully at the back of "Mrs. Song" as she walked away. There was something strange—a faint, furry object he noticed beneath the hem of her skirt. He squinted, trying to make sense of it.
But then, he shook his head, dismissing the idea. It couldn't possibly be what he was thinking.
Yet, as Daphne clung to Novak's arm, jealousy simmered within all three of them.
At that moment, the same thought ran through their minds.
Damn it, I'm so jealous of that bastard Novak!