đ.đ: Cloaked Intruder
đlysia stormed through the palace hallways, her silver hair trailing behind her like Medusa's serpents, each strand charged with the electricity of her irritation.
"The nerve of that purple-haired menace," she muttered, jaw tight as her mind spun, dissecting him despite her better judgment.
What a person he was.
With confidence bordering on arrogance and a calculated charm effortlessly wielded like a weapon. He could read people, understand their reactions before they did, and capitalize on it with infuriating precision.
Was it amusement he desired or something else?
Her lips pursed.
Psychologically speaking, a man like that was dangerous.
And worse? He probably knew it.
Her lips moved in an endless stream of mumbled curses, a blush still high on her cheeks as she recalled that specific moment.
The absurdity of it allâthe arrogance, the sheer audacity of that weirdoâhad her stomping through the palace halls like a fiery comet.
