Zayn let out a long sigh, sinking into the warm water one last ti before finally forcing himself to move.
The bath had done its job — his muscles no longer ached, and the heat had lted away the worst of his exhaustion.
But he had to admit, if one more person walked into his room unannounced, he might just start throwing hands.
With another sigh, he pushed himself up, water cascading down his skin as he reached for the towel nearby.
He grabbed it and ran it over his arms, across his chest, and down to his legs, drying himself off with slow, lazy movents.
The warmth of the bath still clung to him, but the chill of the air was already creeping in.
His mind drifted back to the half-elf and her unexpected visit.
’She really didn’t hold back, huh?’
He shook his head, tossing the towel over his shoulders as he walked toward the small wooden closet near his bed.
Opening it, he blinked at the nearly empty space inside. There was nothing but a neatly folded white robe sitting on the shelf.
That was... odd.
He reached for it, feeling the soft fabric beneath his fingers.
It was unlike anything he had worn before — light, almost silky, yet warm at the sa ti. Definitely not cotton or linen.
His eyes narrowed slightly as a faint blue tab from the system hovered into view.
[Sweetsheep Wool Robe]
[A luxurious robe made from the wool of the rare Sweetsheep. Soft as a dream and warm as a lover’s embrace.]
Zayn arched a brow.
Sweetsheep? He had never heard of them before, but judging from the description, it sounded like so kind of ridiculously rare magical beast.
He exhaled, shaking his head before slipping it on.
The robe fit him well, wrapping around his body with a snug yet comfortable fit. He tied the belt loosely around his waist before walking toward the bed.
Now that he was finally clean and sowhat relaxed, the exhaustion from the dungeon raid hit him all at once.
His body felt heavy.
The second he collapsed onto the mattress, it felt like he was sinking into another plane of existence.
The bed was softer than he expected — nothing extravagant, but leagues better than the hard ground or the saddle of a griffin.
He buried his face into the pillow, inhaling the faint scent of fresh linen.
It was bliss.
But before he let himself fall completely, he forced his arm up and pointed toward the window.
With a flick of his fingers, thin strands of Soul Energy shot out, pulling the curtains shut in one smooth motion.
Then, turning his hand toward the door, he did the sa.
This ti, the strands wove around the handle, looping through the wooden fra and locking it tight.
No more surprise guests today.
No more half-elves sneaking in.
No more interruptions.
Zayn exhaled, his entire body sinking deeper into the bed as his eyes grew heavier. His breathing slowed. His mind drifted.
And then he slept off.
...
The muffled sounds of laughter and music filtered through the wooden walls of his room, accompanied by the occasional roar of an excited adventurer.
Zayn lay sprawled on his bed, one arm draped over his face, while the other rested on his stomach.
He had planned on ignoring the noise — planned on sleeping through it — but the persistent rhythm of bass and the distant cheer of familiar voices made that impossible.
He let out a deep sigh.
’So they really went through with it, huh?’
The Half -elf had told him that they were going to be doing an After-party, and that he shouldn’t forget to attend.He had brushed it off at the ti, not particularly eager to get pulled into any more socializing, but...
His eyes flickered toward the window, where faint flashes of magic danced against the glass.
It seed the festivities were in full swing.
And after everything they had been through, celebrating didn’t seem like the worst idea.
With another sigh, he forced himself to sit up. His [Sweetsheep Wool Robe] was still draped over him, but he loosened the belt and tossed it aside, swapping it for sothing a little less I-just-woke-up.
He pulled on a dark tunic and a pair of comfortable pants, running a hand through his slightly damp hair before heading toward the door.
His fingers twitched, and the Soul Energy strings he had locked it with dissolved into thin air.
The mont he stepped out, the real intensity of the celebration hit him.
The reception hall — usually a place of business and order — had transford into a full-blown party.
Multicolored magical lights floated above the room, shifting and pulsing in ti with the beat of an unfamiliar lody.
Confetti drifted through the air like enchanted snowfall, catching in people’s hair and clothes as they laughed and cheered.
A beastkin bartender wheeled in a massive wooden cooler filled with frosted bottles of beer, the ice inside crackling with what seed to be minor frost magic.
Adventurers crowded around, already reaching for their drinks, their voices blending into a cacophony of excitent.
And then —
"YEAH!"
Zayn turned his head just in ti to see Bran slam down an empty bottle onto a table, foam dripping from his lips as he laughed.
Across from him, an elf woman leaned against the table, arms folded beneath her chest as she smirked at him.
She was undeniably gorgeous — high cheekbones, long silver hair, and sharp erald eyes that glead with amusent.
Bran grinned at her, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before grabbing another drink.
"C’mon," he said, lifting the bottle. "You’re not gonna make drink alone, are ya?"
The elf raised an eyebrow. "I don’t recall agreeing to anything."
Bran scoffed.
"That so?" He took a long swig, then slamd the bottle down again. "Well, guess I’ll just have to drink twice as much."
The elf chuckled, but before she could respond, Bran caught sight of Zayn.
"OI, ZAYN!"
The sheer volu of his voice turned more than a few heads.
Zayn sighed, shaking his head as Bran waved him over with enough enthusiasm to knock soone out.
"Was wonderin’ when you’d show up!" Bran said, grinning ear to ear. "Figured you’d be too sleepy to join us."
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