He would never refuse Rory’s soothing.
"Rory, I want you to help . Let’s go to my room now."
The mont Paros finished speaking, he turned quickly and led her away, as if afraid that even a second’s delay might make her change her mind.
Only after watching Rory enter Paros’s room did Nix and the others finally head back to their own rooms.
Upstairs, Vincent waited for her return.
***
In Paros’s room, Rory glanced around the space and couldn’t help but marvel inwardly.
The dragon clan was truly wealthy.
The room was fitted with nurous spatial stones, and its layout was almost identical to Paros’s private chamber in the Dragon Palace.
"Sister..."
Paros was already seated on the bed, prepared, yet when he saw Rory still standing there, he couldn’t help but urge her softly.
He wanted her closer.
Closer still.
"I’m coming." Rory walked over and sat at the edge of the bed.
The mont she sat down, Paros shifted, leaning back against the headboard. His legs transford into a long dragon tail, which gently coiled around her waist, drawing her into his embrace.
"Sister, lean against my tail. You’ll be closer to ... and more comfortable."
She had been too far just now.
This way felt better.
Smooth, cool scales pressed against her through the thin layer of fabric, holding her securely, leaving no space between them.
There was a tentative quality to his movents.
Now and then, the edge of a scale brushed lightly against her waist, almost like a silent plea for closeness.
"Sister... isn’t this more comfortable?"
Rory placed a hand against the tail that kept nudging at her waist, stopping it. With her other hand, her fingertips rested gently against his forehead.
Her voice carried a quiet warning.
"Behave. Or I won’t help you."
Instantly, Paros stilled.
Only his dark dragon eyes remained fixed on her, filled with a faint, aggrieved softness.
Rory said nothing more and began.
The newly ford ntal barrier within him had grown much stronger over these past days of soothing.
Yet the fine web of cracks across it remained.
Rory suspected that only when the new barrier fully stabilized would those fractures gradually nd.
And when they did, Paros would likely return to normal.
Before long, the soothing was complete.
Rory withdrew her hand and was just about to stand when the dragon tail around her waist suddenly tightened.
Caught off guard, her back was pulled flush against Paros’s burning chest.
"Paros, what are you doing?"
Rory turned her head, her voice edged with irritation as she looked at the culprit behind her.
"Sister..."
His voice ca from behind her, low and muffled, thick with an overwhelming sense of grievance—like a scolded puppy that didn’t dare argue, yet couldn’t bear to leave.
"I... I’m not trying to do anything."
He spoke softly, almost defensively, his arms tightening around her just a little more.
"I just... just wanted to hold you a bit longer."
His voice dropped, every word laced with cautious pleading.
"Sister, just let hold you for a mont. I promise—just a mont. Okay?"
Hearing the fragile note in his voice, Rory’s body stiffened slightly.
Reason told her she should push him away imdiately.
Behind her, Paros sensed her silence. His voice dipped further, tinged with a faint, choked plea.
"Sister... just let hold you once, alright? I promise I’ll behave."
The once-dominant ruler of the dragon clan—when had he ever begged anyone like this?
Rory turned her head, eting his dark, reddened eyes. She tried to find even a trace of the man he used to be.
But in those beautiful black eyes, there was nothing left of the proud, aloof figure who once looked down on the world.
They were filled instead with fragile longing, cautious dependence, and a deep, unmistakable fear of being pushed away.
He buried his face deeper into the curve of her neck, like a young creature seeking shelter. His voice carried a thick nasal edge, as if he were on the verge of tears.
"Sister... I know... I know I’m nothing right now."
"Vincent was right. I don’t have the right to draw lots with them. I don’t have the right... to stay by your side."
His voice grew quieter, each word dragged out from sowhere deep inside him, heavy with bitterness and self-reproach.
"There’s so much I can’t rember anymore... I only know that I can’t be without you."
"When I can’t see you, it feels like sothing’s been torn out of my chest. It’s cold... and it hurts."
As he spoke, his arms tightened further around her, as if trying to press her into himself, to fill that hollow emptiness and quiet the fear gnawing at him.
The dragon tail around her waist, no longer calm, began to coil restlessly, its cool scales brushing through the fabric—an unspoken reflection of his unease.
"Sister, I’m not trying to do anything, really..." Paros said hoarsely, almost urgently.
"I’m just... jealous of them. Jealous that they can stand by your side openly, that they get a chance to be with you."
"And ... I can only watch from a distance, like an outsider."
His voice trembled.
"Sister... I’m scared. I’m really scared... that one day, you won’t want anymore."
***
After finishing Paros’s soothing, Rory returned to her room.
The mont she pushed the door open, she froze.
Her eyes widened in shock.
On the bed, Vincent reclined lazily on his side, one hand propping up his head. His posture was relaxed... almost dangerously alluring.
But it wasn’t the pose that stunned her.
It was what he was wearing.
A black silk robe—if it could even be called that.
The fabric was so light and sheer it barely concealed anything, clinging and shifting with his movents, faintly outlining the firm, smooth lines of his body beneath.
The deep V neckline fell open almost to his abdon, exposing a broad stretch of toned chest and sharply defined collarbones.
And the hem... It was scandalously short.
His long, straight legs were completely uncovered, stretching out into the open air without the slightest restraint.
Rory blinked, once... twice.
For a mont, she genuinely wondered if she had exhausted her ntal energy and was now hallucinating.
This... this felt suspiciously similar to Yuel’s style.
She took a steadying breath, walked closer, and pointed at the outrageously revealing robe.
"Vincent... where did you even get this?"
eting her stunned gaze, the confidence and anticipation in Vincent’s eyes flickered, replaced by a hint of awkwardness.
He cleared his throat and straightened slightly, trying to appear composed.
"I... got it from Yuel."
Of course.
Rory’s lips twitched.
It was one thing for Jasper, Nix, and Xarion to start picking up habits from Yuel...
But now even Vincent had joined in?
Seeing her silent reaction, the tips of Vincent’s ears turned faintly red.
"This is new," he added quickly. "Yuel hasn’t worn it."
Yuel was busy taking care of the child now and had no use for these things, so Vincent had gone to him and asked for a couple.
Rory looked at Vincent, whose composure was rapidly slipping, and imagined the scene of him going to Yuel to ask for such clothing.
She couldn’t hold it in.
A soft laugh escaped her.
Vincent, who usually indulged in a more refined kind of allure—structured uniforms, restrained elegance—had never touched anything like this before.
He was, at heart, far too straightforward for it.
The fact that he had gone out of his way to get sothing like this...
It must have taken real effort.
Hearing her laugh, Vincent’s composure finally cracked. The flush spread from his ears down to his neck.
He asked, a little irritated and embarrassed, "What are you laughing at? Does it not look good?"
He had gone through all this trouble just to please her, even setting aside his pride.
"It looks good, it looks good."
Seeing he was getting flustered, Rory waved her hand quickly and sat down beside him, leaning in to study him more closely.
Her voice softened as she coaxed, "Don’t be upset. I’m just... touched."
"I really didn’t expect soone as proud and composed as you to go this far for ."
As she spoke, her finger lightly tapped the exposed skin of his chest, the warmth and firmness unmistakable beneath her touch.
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