The word hung between them. Confirmation. Proof.
Another soul. Another traveller. "Indeed," he whispered. "Soone who rembers silicon circuits. Digital networks. Global communication."
"Wait, what did you say?" Nora got up, startled.
"You heard right. You are a reincarned soul, aren't you?"
Realisation dawned on her face and was soon replaced by a horror. She quickly put on her guard, and she pulled out a dagger and pointed at him, "What are you talking about?"
"Co on, don't be like that."
"And you?" Nora's eyes were intense now. "Where did you... co from?"
"From the states. Early twenty-first century," Jolthar disclosed. "You?"
"Middle east. Similar tifra," she responded.
"You don't need to be so afraid of , you know. I have known for a while, but I wanted to confirm after I talked to you."
Nora put down her dagger, and she looked at Jolthar with a contemplated look. She still wasn't sure about him, but she asked, "How many years had it been?"
"Enough to settle myself here," Jolthar replied casually.
"But how did you know?" She was still confused about how she found out about her.
"Well, you can say it's a special talent given to ."
Nora looked sceptical. "How did you end up in this world?"
"We will talk about those parts later if we trust each other enough."
"But first," Jolthar said, his tone shifting. "Have any... entities contacted you? Gods, spirits, divine beings making specific requests or offering strange guidance?"
Nora's reaction was imdiate. Her eyes flickered – not with fear but with a complex mix of caution and intrigue. "Why do you ask?"
"Call it professional curiosity," Jolthar said. "Let's just say I've had so... interesting interactions recently."
"No."
"Not even when you first arrived here?"
"No."
Jolthar fell into thought. He wasn't sure if she was lying, and it was only their first eting. So he can't truly say. And from what he had seen so far, she wasn't a simple girl.
Then she asked him a question that made him frown: "Did you help us because you wanted sothing from the baroness?"
Jolthar leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed as Nora's words echoed in his ears.
"What? Why would you think so?" he asked, genuinely amused.
She gave him a blank, almost unnerving stare. "I can just tell by the way you look at her."
Her deadpan delivery left him speechless for a mont, but then Jolthar broke into a grin, scratching the back of his neck. "Well, I guess you're not wrong. Who wouldn't admire a woman like her?"
The instant the words left his mouth, Nora's expression shifted from neutral to sharp indignation. Her brows furrowed, and she stood abruptly, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "Why are you smiling like that? I knew it! You're probably so... so kind of otaku!"
The sheer randomness of her statent threw Jolthar off balance. "Wait—what? An otaku? Where did that even co from?"
"You must've spent all your life holed up in so dingy room, watching ani or whatever it is you reincarnated types do!" she declared with fiery indignation, her arms flailing for emphasis.
He blinked, processing her words. Then he smirked, unable to hide his amusent. "And how do you know what an otaku is, huh? Did you read about them in one of your fancy, otherworldly books?"
Her face turned a shade redder, and she huffed. "That's not the point! Whatever I know is none of your business. What matters is, you're forbidden—absolutely forbidden—from even thinking about my mother in that way!"
Jolthar raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. "Alright, alright! No need to get your feathers all ruffled, kid. I get it—off-limits. I promise I'll keep my admiration strictly professional."
Nora narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced, but she didn't press further. "Good. Just rember, if you so much as look at her the wrong way, I'll kill you myself."
With that, she turned on her heel and stord off, her indignation trailing behind her like a storm cloud.
Jolthar watched her retreating figure, shaking his head with a chuckle.
***
Jolthar made his way back through the dimly lit hallways, his boots clicking faintly against the cold stone floor.
The faint hum of distant music reached his ears as he ascended the steps to his quarters. The lodies, slow and haunting, carried a seductive allure that seed to echo through the walls.
He frowned, curious about the source.
Torchlight flickered against weathered granite walls, casting elongated shadows that danced and wavered with each step he took.
Looking in the direction of the source, he noticed a faint golden light spilling from the gap between the doors. Involuntarily, he moved towards the door.
Through the narrow opening, a scene unfolded that seed to exist in an entirely different world.
The room was a study in decadence and sensuality. Soft, undulating music drifted through the air - a lody that seed to float between reality and dream, played by unseen musicians. Rich tapestries in deep crimson and burnished gold covered the walls, their intricate patterns telling stories of forgotten conquests and ancient desires.
At the centre of this opulent tableau lay the Baroness.
She reclined on a massive plush mattress, its surface covered in silk and velvet of the most luxurious textures.
Around her, like living sculptures, were won - so draped across the mattress, others positioned in artful poses that seed more like a living painting than re human arrangent.
Their bodies were a canvas of pale skin, so adorned with delicate jewellery that caught the soft candlelight, others completely bare.
The Baroness herself was a vision of predatory elegance. Unlike her companions, she was partially dressed - a translucent silk robe that revealed more than it concealed, clinging to her body like a second skin. A goblet of deep red wine dangled from her elegant fingers, the liquid within moving with each subtle movent of her wrist.
Her eyes - oh, her eyes. They were the first thing that truly captured Jolthar's attention. Not rely looking, but piercing. Dark. Knowing. They seed to hold entire universes of secrets, of potential violence and seduction.
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