The scene was... incredibly intimate. A beauty sat astride a handsome man, his milk-white legs straddling either side. His long black hair, as dark as the night sky, cascaded over his shoulders, falling forward due to his leaning posture. But this romantic image quickly shattered if one focused on the beauty's hands—hands gripping the neck of the man beneath him with such force that blue veins stretched visibly from his hands to his forearms.
Sian was exhausted, trapped between the haze of sleep and wakefulness. For a fleeting moment, he thought he had returned to his original world—a world of ruin, chaos, and death lurking in every corner. In that world, Sian never dared to sleep deeply; it was a luxury that could easily cost him his life. Many had tried to kill him in his sleep, so waking up to an attack had become second nature to him. When he felt hands on him, his instincts immediately took over, identifying it as a threat.
