Darian stepped through the grand double doors, his breath catching at the sight that greeted him. The exterior of the mansion had been magnificent, with its ornate carvings and pristine gardens, but the interior was an entirely different spectacle. The hall stretched wider than his school's sports auditorium, its polished marble floors reflecting the light of an elaborate crystal chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. Twin staircases spiraled upward, meeting at a balcony on the second floor. Every detail of the architecture spoke of wealth and grandeur beyond anything Darian had encountered.
It wasn't just the size or beauty of the space that struck him. The mansion was alive with activity. Maids in crisp uniforms moved gracefully through the halls, their movements efficient and elegant. Towering bodyguards in black suits, their faces hidden behind dark sunglasses, stood at intervals, their expressions unreadable.
"Follow me this way, please," one of the maids said, her voice soft yet firm. She gestured for Darian to ascend the stairs.
He nodded and followed, his eyes darting around as they moved. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries and paintings, each telling stories of battles and mythical creatures. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, adding to the ethereal ambiance. Darian maintained a calm demeanor, but his mind was racing. Who exactly was this Zara Noelle?
The maid led him down a hallway that seemed to stretch endlessly. The ceilings were high, with golden patterns etched into the wood. Darian couldn't help but admire the craftsmanship, even as he tried to piece together what kind of life Zara lived. Before long, they reached a pair of massive doors at the end of the corridor.
Two imposing guards stood in front of the doors, their muscular frames making Darian look diminutive in comparison. Despite their intimidating presence, Darian didn't feel threatened. In fact, he sized them up quickly and dismissed them as unremarkable.
"Please hand me your bag," the maid said politely, holding out her hand.
Darian hesitated briefly before complying. The maid took his bag, then turned to the doors. With a strength that belied her slender frame, she pushed them open with ease, revealing a room so luxurious it left Darian momentarily speechless.
The bedroom was enormous, larger than the entirety of his old apartment. A bed the size of a small field dominated the center of the room, its silken sheets gleaming in the soft light of the chandeliers above. To the sides were doors leading to adjoining chambers, their purposes unknown. Everything in the room, from the furniture to the decor, exuded wealth and refinement.
The maid stepped out, leaving Darian alone. He wandered the room for a moment, taking in the details. The floor was covered in a thick, plush carpet that muffled his footsteps. A bookshelf lined one wall, filled with ancient tomes and artifacts. Despite the grandeur, the room felt strangely welcoming.
He sat on a couch near the bed, his mind swirling with questions. Who was Zara Noelle, really? He knew she was one of the Descendants, but beyond that, she was an enigma. Before he could delve deeper into his thoughts, a soft creak drew his attention.
A door at the far end of the room opened, releasing a cloud of steam. Darian's eyes widened as a figure emerged—a silver-haired beauty dressed in nothing but a towel that clung precariously to her curves.
Zara.
Darian's breath hitched as he took in her appearance. Her damp hair cascaded over her shoulders, and the soft glow of her skin made her look almost ethereal. Her figure was nothing short of perfection, every curve accentuating her allure.
He quickly averted his gaze, his cheeks flushing.
Zara, seemingly unaware of his presence at first, turned her head toward him. Her golden eyes glinted with curiosity as a faint smile played on her lips.
"This one… he's different," she thought to herself, her expression neutral yet intrigued.
She walked past him to a grand closet near the couch. Without a hint of modesty, she removed her towel, her movements unhurried. Darian clenched his fists, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the floor.
Despite her deliberate display, he refused to look. He wasn't about to make a fool of himself.
Minutes passed, and Zara finally spoke. "You can turn around now."
Darian hesitated before looking up. She now wore a long purple gown that shimmered under the light. The dress hugged her figure perfectly, accentuating her regal aura.
"You look… good," he managed, his voice slightly hoarse.
Zara chuckled softly, the sound melodic and almost teasing. She moved to the couch and sat gracefully on the other side.
"So, who are you really?" Darian asked, the question weighing heavily on his mind.
"Zara Noelle," she replied with a faint smile.
"No, not your name. I mean this." He gestured to the room and everything it represented.
Her smile widened slightly as she leaned back. "When you live for a few centuries, you tend to accumulate a bit of wealth."
Darian's eyebrows shot up. "Centuries?"
She tilted her head, her expression amused. "You didn't think I was just a nineteen-year-old girl who crossed dimensions, did you?"
"Well… yeah, I did."
"I'm three hundred years old, give or take," she said nonchalantly.
Darian stared at her, speechless. Dragons. Of course. Her age made sense now, but it was still mind-boggling.
"Are the others as old as you?" he asked, still trying to process the information.
"Most of them are older," she said with a shrug. "Dragons have long lifespans. Three hundred years isn't even half of mine."
Darian nodded slowly, still reeling.
Zara stood and walked toward the bed. She glanced back at him, her golden eyes studying him intently. "Freshen up and join me."
Darian blinked, caught off guard. "Are you sure? I mean, I don't have any clothes—"
A pair of pajamas appeared in his hands before he could finish. He glanced at her, his confusion evident.
"You can wear those," she said, her tone calm.
Darian hesitated before retreating to the bathroom. The warmth of the water helped him clear his mind. By the time he returned, dressed in the provided pajamas, he felt more composed.
Zara was lying in the center of the massive bed, her silver hair spread out like a halo. She looked at him expectantly.
"What are you waiting for?" she asked, her tone light yet commanding.
Darian approached cautiously, the surreal nature of the situation not lost on him. He climbed into the bed, trying to keep his distance, but Zara had other plans.
She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. Her touch was surprisingly soft and warm.
"Would you rather I leave?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"No," he replied firmly, meeting her gaze.
He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. For a moment, all his doubts and questions faded.
"Tomorrow's going to be a long day," Zara murmured as she nestled against him. "Rest well."
Darian closed his eyes, a faint smile on his lips. Whatever tomorrow held, he felt ready.
Zara, too, smiled inwardly. "This one… he's really something else."