At noon the next day, Lann sat on the bed with a vacant expression.
A soft, expensive animal skin blanket covered his waist down, revealing only the well-defined upper body.
Opposite the bed stood the luxurious dressing table that Margaret had moved from Airetusa.
The female warlock, with her bare back facing Lann, sat on the soft stool.
From Lann's angle, her lower body looked like a plump, ripe peach placed on a cashmere stool.
In the mirror, the female warlock's eyes met those of the demon hunter.
"You're awake? How do you feel?"
The mature alluring voice carried a clear tone of teasing.
Lann tried to make his expression more composed.
This wasn't a matter of power, but rather the superficial pride of a young man who had just graduated physically.
The Mentos in his mind offered such an assessment, only to be promptly dismissed by Lann.
"Last night was unfair, you used magic!"
"Hey! I'm a female warlock, of course, I can use magic in bed."
