Lycoris radiata was known as the devil, the most fearsome being in the modern world. However, one fateful night, she underwent miraculous transmigration into a romantic novel, awakening within the dying body of the story's villainess, Medea Falaguer...
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Note: A time when Medea stayed over in Caelus' obsidian tower before returning to her world.
***
The obsidian tower loomed silently in the moonlight, its black walls glinting with the faint glow of the night sky. The corridors stretched out before Medea, dimly lit by the pale flicker of enchanted sconces.
She wasn't sure how long she'd been pacing, her boots striking the cold stone floor in a steady rhythm that mirrored her turbulent thoughts.
This wasn't uncommon for her. Restlessness often claimed her during these quiet hours, but tonight was different. There was a weight in the air, heavy and electric, pressing against her in ways she couldn't name.
Her steps carried her without hesitation toward Caelus's chambers. She didn't bother rationalizing her actions. Perhaps it was curiosity, or perhaps it was something far deeper—something she'd been suppressing for lifetimes.
When she arrived at his door, she paused for the briefest of moments before lifting her hand and knocking once.
The sound echoed faintly in the stillness before his voice came through, calm but tinged with surprise. "Come in."
Medea pushed the door open, the hinges creaking softly as she stepped inside. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the hearth on the far side of the room, where a low fire cast flickering shadows across the dark stone walls. But it wasn't the firelight that held her attention—it was Caelus.
He stood near the window, his back turned to her, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. His robe hung loosely over his shoulders, the dark fabric contrasting sharply with the pale, damp skin beneath it. His silvery hair fell messily around his face, still damp from the bath, and the faint glimmer of water droplets clung to his collarbone.
Medea froze.
She had seen Caelus in countless magician robes but never like this.
Her gaze lingered on him longer than she intended, and before she could school her expression, his voice cut through the quiet.
"You couldn't sleep either, I take it?"
Medea arched an eyebrow, slipping into her usual mask of cool detachment. "I could say the same to you."
Caelus turned then, his movements unhurried. His piercing gaze met hers, and though his expression was unreadable, she thought she caught a flicker of something deeper—curiosity, or perhaps amusement.
"You seem... unsettled," he said, his voice as measured as ever.
"I'm not unsettled," she replied smoothly, stepping further into the room. "Merely restless."
Her eyes swept over the space, though her focus remained on him. The room was sparse yet elegant, much like the man himself. It was a place of purpose, not indulgence, but there was a warmth to it that surprised her.
