At this moment, Maur stood naked in the bathtub, his body entwined with Evelyn’s vines.

Stepping out of the warm water left a slight chill on his skin.

But Evelyn’s unflinching gaze made him feel even stiffer.

“What surprise?!”

“What are you even doing here?”

“And let me go! I need to get dressed.”

They’d shared far more intimate moments—they knew each other inside and out.

Yet Maur still wasn’t used to being watched by Evelyn.

Before, he’d mostly been unconscious during their encounters.

Evelyn often used magically accelerated plants to assist.

But today, the blossoms on her vines weren’t the nutmeg Maur recognized—just ordinary flowers.

Their fragrance carried no strange effect on his body.

That was why he could speak to her, fully awake.

“I’m here to continue this morning’s date,” the Forest Fey said, gliding through the open window toward him.

“I’m sorry. I left you alone in that haunted house.”

“Are you angry?”

To Evelyn, abandoning Maur to secure intel on her friend Dominica before the Luminous Temple’s High Priest arrived was, by any standard, a breach of trust—especially since he’d been in a fragile state. Later, locked in battle with the High Priest, she couldn’t return even after sensing her defensive magic shattered. Thankfully, Maur was safe. But she’d only secured half the information.

*"The Luminous Temple’s Divine Descent technique."*

She’d read of this spell—forcibly elevating a user’s level—but never faced it. Truly troublesome.

Now the other half was in the Temple’s hands. Retrieving it wouldn’t be easy.

But no matter how tight-lipped those white-robed believers were, she’d try.

Perhaps this was the last thing she could do for her only friend.

“Don’t come closer!” Maur’s face twisted in resistance.

“If you know you messed up, stop right there! I don’t want to see you—especially not in my home!”

“And you knocked out my maid with magic!”

Seeing Evelyn, he understood instantly.

Not just Daina—every living soul in Violet County Manor, save him, was asleep.

Another sleep spell. Just like this morning.

This Forest Fey never tired of the same trick.

If it worked, she’d use it endlessly.

Evelyn studied his resistance. After a pause: “So you *are* angry. What should I do to fix it?”

“Impossible,” Maur shot back without hesitation.

Evelyn ignored him, her vines slithering lower… lower…

“Human novels say the best way to calm an angry lover is…”

“Wait!” Maur cut in sharply.

Clearly, her apology was hollow—just mimicry.

She didn’t grasp *why* humans apologized.

Evelyn had always been a force unto herself.

Apology was a foreign concept.

No one had ever made her apologize. No one could now.

A Legendary Spellcaster did only what she wished.

She wouldn’t leave the manor. Not unless diverted.

*"Just get through today."*

*"Worry about tomorrow… later!"*

“A gift! Yes—a gift!” Inspiration struck from past encounters.

“Humans make amends with gifts. If you truly want to apologize, bring me one I’ll accept.”

Evelyn understood gifts. Forest Fey exchanged them too—though usually as friendly gestures, not apologies.

Still, she recalled Maur once giving her a golden laurel branch and three bottles of Golden Memory Wine after failing a class.

…That wine was rich. Especially poured over his skin.

“What gift do you want?” she asked, mind drifting to the barrels of Golden Memory Wine in her spatial ring—brewed by her after tasting his.

Forest Fey accelerated flora; with magic, filling a ring took little time.

Yet hers always lacked *something*.

A component only Maur could provide.

Unaware of her thoughts, Maur’s eyes lit up.

“Do you have a potion specifically for Swamp Behemoths?”

Since Mavis revealed himself—especially this afternoon on the flying house—Maur seethed.

“One that incapacitates them. Inhalable. Discreet. Undetectable!”

If he’d had it earlier…

His intel on Swamp Behemoths was scarce—habits, habitats, no weaknesses.

But Evelyn? Level 7 Legendary Spellcaster. Ancient, erudite elf. She’d know.

And *she* offered first. Perfect chance.

“You want that potion?”

“Certainly. I’ll give it to you tomorrow morning.” Her tone was casual.

Tomorrow was Divine Grace Academy’s Initiate Festival team challenge.

If he ran into Mavis again… *hehehe*… then it’d be *his* turn.

*Revenge. Sweet, thorough revenge.*

“Good,” Maur said, forcing calm. “You can go. Brew it now.”

Evelyn didn’t move.

“Brewing takes me very little time.”

“Before that… we can continue this morning’s date.”

“Wh-what?! No! It’s over! Done! Finished!”

He switched tactics fast: “I’m still angry! No gift, no forgiveness—no date!”

“So go! Brew the damn potion!”

She repeated softly: “Brewing takes very little time.”

“And I want to try another method.”

Curiosity tinged her voice: “Human novels say the best way to calm an angry lover is…”

“…to sleep with him.”

“I will try to sleep with you, Maur.”

“Oh—and are you bathing?” She smiled.

“The water’s cold. Let me refresh it.”

Magic drained the tub before he could protest.

“Wh-what are you doing?!”

Bad feeling confirmed: she pulled massive barrels from her ring.

“This is my Golden Memory Wine. Imperfect.”

“It’s missing something vital.”

“You’ll help me complete it, won’t you, Maur?”

Cool wine cascaded over his skin, filling the tub.

Warmed by his body, its aroma deepened.

A faint blush colored Evelyn’s cheeks.

“The water’s ready.”

She leaned close. Vines pressed him into the golden liquid.

Wine sloshed over the rim.

Scents tangled in the steam.

…

Outside the bathroom, the unconscious maid’s fingers twitched—just slightly.