Anastasia finished the last bite of her breakfast, set her spoon down, and took one final sip of coffee before speaking.
"What am I supposed to do today?"
Malvor, lounging against the counter like a smug cat who'd just knocked over a priceless artifact, flashed his second-most charming smile.
The first was for seduction.This one?Purely for annoyance.
"What do you want to do, Annie Doll?"
She hesitated—just for a second.
And he pounced.
Malvor lived for these moments. Tiny cracks in her otherwise impenetrable calm. That flicker of uncertainty? Delicious. He gasped, clapping his hands like a child on chaos-flavored candy.
"Oh, Annie, I know!"
Her face shifted immediately into wary skepticism.
"I want you to dress in rags and scrub the floors like Cinderella," he declared, practically vibrating. "Cinder Annie!"
He beamed like this was the greatest idea he'd ever had.
Anastasia stared at him. Blinked once. Slowly.
Then, without a word, she stood, picked up her empty mug, and placed it in the sink with quiet, deliberate precision.
Malvor leaned in, waiting for the groan. The eye-roll. The verbal stab.
She turned back, expression unreadable.
"Sure," she said. "Get me a bucket and a brush."
Malvor blinked. Froze mid-smirk."…Wait, what?"
"If that's what you want," she said, cool and calm, "I'll do it."
His smirk cracked.That wasn't surrender.That was power.
Malvor squinted. "Are you… messing with me right now?"
Anastasia shrugged.
He gasped dramatically, staggering back. "You absolute monster, Annie! Twisting my own games against me!" He clutched his chest, shaking his head like she'd betrayed him at sea. "And here I thought we were bonding."
She exhaled through her nose. The closest thing to a laugh he'd ever gotten out of her.
Malvor rolled his shoulders, theatrically recovering. "Fine. Clearly I can't throw you into menial labor for my own amusement. Tragic, really. I'll just have to come up with something else."
Anastasia crossed her arms. "I thought I was supposed to be yours. Isn't it your job to tell me what to do?"
His grin returned. Slow. Pleased.
"Oh, Annie," he purred, stepping closer. "I don't tell you what to do. I simply provide… opportunities for chaos."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "And if I don't take them?"
He shrugged. "Then I make them more interesting."
She sighed. "That sounds exhausting."
"It is. But it's also deeply rewarding," he said, waggling his brows.
She rubbed her temple. "I'm going back to my room."
"Don't forget the ash stains, darling!" he called after her.
She didn't look back.
He leaned against the counter, grin lingering.
She might have won this round.
But the next one?
Oh, the next one would be fun.
Back in her room, Anastasia closed the door behind her with a quiet click.
This place… it was impossible.
Beautiful. Chaotic. Maddening.
She needed quiet. Control. Something she could actually choose.
Maybe she could read.
Books never tried to get under her skin. They didn't talk in circles. They didn't flirt like a disaster with great hair.
But finding a library here?
She exhaled, stepping into the hallway. Looked left. Then right.White stone stretched in every direction, endless and empty.
She hesitated, then spoke aloud.
"…Would you take me to the library?"
A beat of silence.
Then—click.
A door swung open directly in front of her.
Anastasia blinked.Of course.
Inside, the library was stunning.
Towering shelves climbed toward a ceiling lost in shadow.Books bound in leather, parchment, and strange, shimmering materials lined the walls.
Floating crystal chandeliers glowed with soft, shifting light.
Massive windows—windows that hadn't been there before—revealed swirling galaxies and impossible skies.
It was breathtaking.
She stepped forward, fingers grazing the spines of ancient books that smelled of ink, paper, and magic.
So the house listened.
Useful. And unsettling.
"…Thank you," she muttered.
It felt like the right thing to say.
The scale was overwhelming.
Shelves stretched forever. Every book humming with untold stories.She wasn't used to choosing for herself.
Where do I even start?
"…Um. A romantic fantasy book?"
Three books plopped onto the nearby table, stacked neatly as if they'd always been there.
She picked one up. Ran her thumb over the embossed cover."I've read this one," she said softly. "It was excellent."
A note. A memory. A breadcrumb for the house to follow.
She tucked the other two under her arm and turned to go.
And because peace was never allowed—
Malvor appeared the moment she stepped into the hallway.
He strolled out of a nearby room, every movement lazy and deliberate. His eyes found her instantly—and the books in her arms.
"What do we have here? Oh, look at Annie. Armed and dangerous."
She didn't slow. Just lifted the books slightly in acknowledgment.
Malvor's smirk widened. "Oh? You can read?"
She sighed. "I can."
His smirk turned downright evil. "Huh. I assumed you couldn't."
She didn't respond.Didn't even glance at him.
Her grip on the books just tightened slightly.
Malvor, naturally, followed.
"So, what did my delightful house conjure for you?" he asked, all mock curiosity. "A tale of war? A treatise on cosmic law? A steamy novella about scandalous demigods?"
She said nothing.
He walked backward in front of her, hands in his pockets, grinning like a fox with a microphone.
"Ooh, maybe something truly indecent," he continued. "Tell me, Annie—do you enjoy books filled with longing glances? Forbidden kisses? Pages and pages of—"
"Romantic fantasy," she cut in.
Malvor stopped mid-step."…Wait. Seriously?"
"Yes."
His face lit up like a kid finding candy. "You? Reading about romance? My, my. How very unexpected."
She stopped. Looked him dead in the eye.
"You do realize romance books contain conflict, strategy, and intricate social maneuvering, right?"
She raised a brow.
"Not that I'd expect you to understand depth."
Malvor reeled back like she'd slapped him with a hardcover edition of Pride and Prejudice."You wound me!"
She turned and walked away.
He stared after her, blinking.
Then whispered, with reverent delight—
"…She likes books."