The dim candlelight still flickered in the corners of Isabella's office, casting soft shadows across the room. Julian sat on the edge of the table now, catching his breath, muscles still faintly trembling from the intense exchange. Across from him, Isabella had already begun dressing again, moving slowly, her usual grace tinged with an almost feline satisfaction.
She wore a robe this time, a different one—dark purple, embroidered with golden thread that shimmered when she moved. She tied the sash lazily, then turned to Julian and raised an eyebrow when she caught him still shirtless, watching her.
"Like what you see?" she teased, a slight smile playing on her lips.
Julian huffed a short breath, still catching the lingering scent of jasmine and sweat. "Hard not to."
She chuckled, walking over to him with a cup of water she had poured. "Drink. You'll need your strength… for actual servant work tomorrow."
He accepted it, lips curling into a small smirk as he drank.
There was a pause between them, not awkward, but thoughtful.
"You broke the rule," she said eventually, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear as she leaned against the desk beside him.
"I did."
"No regrets?"
"None," he replied simply.
She studied him for a long moment, then looked away, her tone softer now. "You're a dangerous man, Julian. Most servants here would've begged just to touch me."
He didn't respond, and the silence stretched between them, until—
"I might have a proposition for you," she added, her gaze sliding back to him. "There's a textile business... tied to the Averill family. One of the branches in a city called Vareen has been neglected lately."
"Vareen?" Julian repeated.
She nodded. "It's a growing trade hub—lots of movement, both goods and... people."
He raised an eyebrow. "And you want me to do what exactly? Haul crates?"
Isabella smirked. "No. I want you to learn. Watch. Connect. You're smart, ambitious, and... clearly capable of getting your hands dirty." She leaned in closer. "Let's just say Vareen might offer more than fabric. There are things brewing there. Deals. Risks. Power."
Julian didn't miss the weight behind her words. "You're testing me again."
"Always," she replied, brushing her fingers lightly across his jaw before pulling back. "But not tonight."
She stepped away and began tidying the scattered papers on her desk. "You'll still serve here for a while. Let Evelyn decide if you're worth sending out."
Julian watched her in silence, noting the shift—how she returned to her role so effortlessly. The sensuality was still there, but layered now with something else. Strategy.
He stood, reaching for his shirt and beginning to dress again. "If I go to Vareen… what happens to us?"
She gave him a brief glance, lips quirked up. "We'll both find out."
***
The door to his room clicked softly shut behind him.
Julian stood there for a moment in the dim light, back against the door, letting the silence swallow him whole. His breath was steady, no longer ragged and desperate like it had been minutes ago—but the heat of what just happened still clung to his skin like sweat. Even after wiping himself down and redressing in Isabella's office, he felt… different.
Changed.
He took a few slow steps toward the bed and sat down, elbows resting on his knees, head bowed. The sheets were still rumpled from his restless sleep the night before. Funny. He doubted tonight would be any more restful.
His wrists were a little red from the silken ties. Nothing painful—just a memory, lingering on his skin. A reminder of what he'd given up control for… and what he'd taken back in the end.
"…What the hell am I doing?" he muttered aloud.
No answer, of course.
Julian tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling, but his mind was somewhere far away—still in that room with Isabella, her lips on his skin, her body wrapped around his. The weight of her, the heat, the dominance, the teasing… the moment he snapped the restraints and flipped their roles like a coin.
He hadn't planned that.
He wasn't even sure why he did it. Something inside him had flared—some instinct, some primal urge—and it had overridden every calculation he'd been trying to make.
He clenched his fists. "I need to be smarter."
He wasn't just playing a game of lust. Not anymore.
The system had remained quiet since the daily quest. No new notifications. No Coin reward. Nothing. That in itself was… suspicious. He expected something. Even a cheeky remark from the interface. But all he got was silence.
Julian leaned back on the bed and stared at the ceiling again, this time softer. Slower.
Isabella.
She was dangerous. Not because she was the head maid or because of her beauty, though those things mattered.
It was because she was clever.
She chose him. Lured him. Tied him. Teased him. And when he broke free and took control, she let him. Let him take the reins. Let him feel like he had the power now.
And maybe he did.
But maybe… she still got exactly what she wanted.
Julian exhaled through his nose. "She's not Evelyn. She plays a different kind of game."
Evelyn Averill was distant. Controlled. A mystery. She held her cards close to her chest and rarely revealed emotion. Julian still didn't understand what kind of woman she was, but Isabella?
She was all emotion. All pleasure. A hurricane wrapped in perfume and silk.
But under that? Strategy.
She'd mentioned the possibility of business in another city, hadn't she? Casual. As if it meant nothing. But Julian had learned to listen between the words.
A new city meant a new setting. A new power dynamic. A new test.
Would Isabella really offer him a chance to travel with her? Or was it bait—to see how ambitious he truly was?
He sat up again, rubbing his face with his hands. He still remembered the first day he stepped into the Averill estate. Powerless. Confused. Just trying to survive the week.
Now?
Now, he had powerful women noticing him. He'd completed quests, leveled up, earned Coins. He had access to skills, weapons, consumables. He had influence—still minor, but growing.
And he'd tasted power.
Not just in the system. But in moments like tonight. When Isabella's breath hitched, when her hands clutched at him like she was the one desperate… he felt it. That he mattered. That he could take control. That he was no longer just prey in this matriarchal world.
Julian looked at his hand. Opened it. Closed it into a fist.
He wasn't strong yet. Not truly. He was still F-rank. Still bound by rules, expectations, the whims of women more powerful than him.
But not for long.
He had to grow. Had to climb. Not just to survive. But to win.
He stood, walked to the wash basin, and splashed cold water on his face.
This is just the beginning.
Tomorrow would bring another [Daily Quest]. Another test. Another chance.
And Isabella… whatever plans she had in mind, whatever game she thought she was playing, Julian would play it better. He'd learn. Adapt. Become the kind of man that even the ruling class feared.
He grinned faintly, drying his face.
Then he walked back to bed, the sheets still cool against his back, and closed his eyes.
For now, he needed rest.
Not because he was tired…
…but because the game was just starting, and he planned to win.