Favna had, of course, heard Alte’s words too. But after double-locking the door and checking it thoroughly several times, she muttered,

“What’s wrong with this lock? Is he bluffing?”

Seeing the whole room was now hers, Favna let loose. She changed into a breezy outfit—just an oversized top—and flopped onto the bed, lazily pulling out her laptop.

Sleep?

Raid time, go!

What decent modern person sleeps at 11 PM anyway?

She launched the game and randomly joined a raid group.

Inside, the top DPS players were debating who’d tackle the final boss while waiting for the healer.

The moment Favna entered, a gunslinger in flashy gear spoke up:

“Finally, a healer’s here. Let’s roll.”

During loading, players chatted and laughed. Favna kept her mic off and didn’t plan to join in—just listened quietly.

Gunslinger: “Heard about that panda-headed healer making waves lately?”

Knight: “Yeah! One heal from him and your damage hits 999—stats go haywire. Might even get banned by CS!”

Fighter: “No way that’s real. Total myth.”

Favna, hidden behind her panda head avatar: “….”

---

Meanwhile, while Favna happily cleared raid after raid, Alte set down his work and rubbed his temples.

He glanced at the clock. 1 AM already…

“Didn’t realize I’d been working this long.”

He stretched his stiff joints and headed for the restroom.

Problem was, the restroom was inside what used to be the storage room—meaning he had to pass Favna’s bedroom.

Habituated to living alone, plus mentally drained, he’d completely forgotten the storage room was now *her* room.

*Click…*

Alte gently turned the knob. The supposedly locked door swung open effortlessly.

Yawning, he stepped inside and walked toward the restroom.

“IT’S THE REAL PANDA-HEALED HEALER!! MY ACCOUNT GOT FLAGGED!!”

A sudden shriek made him whip around.

Seeing Favna sprawled on the bed gaming, it hit him—*Wait… this is her bedroom now?*

Was barging in really okay?

But his attention snagged on her outfit.

The adorable dragon girl wore only a loose oversized tee, radiating lazy comfort. Her snow-white feet swung gently up and down—a world away from her usual timid self.

And in the dim light… Alte’s eyes widened.

*Where were her panties?!*

Then he spotted them: pure white panties dangling from her calf, swaying with her feet like a tiny French flag in the breeze.

The seductive scene clashed yet harmonized with her innocent gaze—a strangely captivating contrast Alte couldn’t look away from.

“These DPS big shots aren’t pulling weight?” Favna grumbled, cheek pressed to the pillow. “Why’d they strip gear and stop healing me?”

*Because they wanna be top DPS, not get banned for a decade,* Alte silently countered.

“Meh~ Crisis averted. Got that weird Dragoon Captain’s gear back. Only owe him 120,000 gold now…”

Oblivious, Favna muttered on while Alte tiptoed away like a thief, desperate to escape this awkward zone.

*If caught… no explanation would save me.*

This was, hands down, the most careful walk of his life. Freedom—just steps away.

Humming cheerfully, Favna hopped up. “Restroom break, then next raid—”

Her eyes met his mid-sentence.

*Buzz.*

Her mind went blank. Frozen.

The panties slipped silently to the floor.

Silence stretched—five seconds? Ten?

Alte offered an awkward yet polite smile. “Uh… just heading to the restroom…”

He babbled about the broken lock, being too busy to remember—but who knew if she heard a word.

Her face flushed crimson. With a flustered cry, she hurled the pillow. *Thwack!* Alte flew backward out the door.

A mortified “Pervert!” echoed, then silence.

“Guess she’s furious,” Alte sighed, rubbing his head. “Better turn in early. This workload’s turning me zombie.”

He knew explanations were pointless now. *Just replace the lock tomorrow.*

But first—restroom. *Please.*

His office was remote. Skipping hers meant a 500-meter trek to the public toilet. In this cold? Misery.

Back inside, a fuming Favna had already pulled on pants, ready to confront that weird captain.

But the office was empty. Her pillow sat neatly on the desk—dusted clean.

“Where’d he go?”

She turned back, hand on the doorknob—and froze.

The latch was dented inward. The door swung open without turning.

The lock *was* broken.

…Had she truly misunderstood Alte?