It was a strong contrast to the friendly corridor she was standing in, facing a man whose presence was as captivating as it was unsettling. His piercing gaze matched the dark green of his tailored suit, hinting at noble status and a world of secrets. Was he really the right person? A soft glow of the lamp illuminated his enigmatic aura, casting delicate shadows that danced across the room. The air was infused with the comforting scents of aged paper, polished wood, and a hint of herbal tea.

With an eyepatch concealing his right eye, the man exuded an air of elegance and quiet power. A faint smirk graced his lips as he glanced up from an open book, his eye-locking onto hers. "I've been expecting you," he said, his voice smooth like silk, yet somehow laced with an underlying intensity.

Startled by his sudden words, Celestia froze at the door. “Ex—Excuse me, I must’ve opened the wrong door.” She glanced nervously around, fidgeting with the hem of her top, actually aware of the unease creeping in. Her mind and thoughts began to blur, the edge of her vision getting darker every second.

The man chuckled softly, closing his book with a deliberate slowness. He rose gracefully, moving to the magically darkened window, where he glanced outside with that same small, knowing smile. When his golden gaze returned to her, it felt as if he were dissecting her down to her very essence. “That’s what you thinks? I say the opposite.” He sauntered to the front of his desk, leaning casually against it, arms crossed, a playful glint in his eyes. “There are no wrong rooms, my Lady.”

Celestia felt heat rush to her cheeks, captivated by the aura he exuded. “Ohh...? R-Really?” she stammered, wondering why he was so enchanting, almost as if he were following a script. “I hope I didn’t interrupt you, Sir?”

He raised an eyebrow, his smile growing as though he enjoyed her flustered state. "How could I resist making time for a visitor so… compelling?" His gaze softened but remained intent, studying her reaction. "What brings you to my office, my Lady?"

Celestia gave a nervous smile. "Sir is this... always how you greet people you’re expecting?"

His grin sharpened a playful gleam in his eye. "Sometimes, though today is particularly... interesting." He let a brief silence fall, his gaze taking her in thoughtfully. "Tell me, what's your name, beautiful Lady?"

Nervously, she swallowed, taking a deep breath to calm the fluttering in her chest. Somehow, the presence of this man was enough to reduce the darkening of her vision.“I’m sorry for disturbing you,” she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. She folded her hands carefully over themselves, bowing slightly. “I’m really sorry that I disturbed you, Sir.” Confusion swirled within her as she realized she had completely ignored his question. In a fluster, she turned to leave, desperate to escape this embarrassing situation. When did she took another step inside the office? Celestia had walked a few small steps toward this mysterious man.

But the man stepped into her path, cutting her off with a devilish grin that only deepened her unease. Leaning slightly closer, his face mere inches from hers, he spoke, his tone playful yet tinged with a hint of command. “Not so fast, beautiful. I asked a question. I’d appreciate an answer.”

Celestia took a small step back, her heart racing. Why was he so handsome? The moment she had seen him, she had known she would speak to him if he insisted—her whole being captivated by him, drawn in by something she couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t just his commanding presence, though that alone could have held anyone’s attention. It was the way he seemed to carry himself, effortless and composed, like someone who had mastered the art of being calm in the midst of chaos.

She swallowed, her voice trembling as she tried to muster some semblance of confidence. “Wo-wouldn’t it be proper for you to introduce yourself first, sir?” Her words felt like a small shield, a fragile attempt at reclaiming some control in the situation. She took another small step back, further into the room, her movements slow but deliberate. “Lucky for both of us, this is a public office,” she added with a slight edge, attempting a warning tone. “And if I don’t feel comfortable, I... I’ll scream!”

She tried not to look at him, but her gaze betrayed her, lingering on the figure before her.

He was tall—taller than anyone she had met before. He stood a head above her, his broad shoulders tapering into a lean yet muscular frame that spoke of strength without effort. His presence felt like an undeniable force, the kind that naturally commanded respect. She swallowed again, unable to suppress the way her eyes were drawn to the way he moved, how his every gesture seemed carefully measured, purposeful.

His piercing honey-golden eyes were the first thing she noticed—their intensity almost unnerving. It was as if they saw straight through her, peeling away the layers she worked so hard to keep intact. His right eye, hidden behind an eyepatch, only seemed to add to his mystery, giving him an enigmatic air that made her heart flutter for reasons she refused to admit.

His skin—a warm, darker shade of French beige—seemed to glow softly in the ambient light of the room, the warmth of it setting him apart from the chill of the stone around them. The subtle sheen of his complexion complemented the natural ease with which he stood as if he were a part of the very environment around him. He had a rugged handsomeness, a certain rawness to his features, that made it impossible not to notice him, not to be pulled in by the gravity of his presence.

His hair—short, ruffled midnight blue—wasn’t styled or carefully groomed, yet somehow it added to his charm. It looked like he had just woken up, and yet the untamed quality only seemed to enhance the sharpness of his features.

What caught her attention next, and held it, was his outfit. His suit, a forest green jacket, was impeccably tailored, fitting his broad shoulders and narrow waist like a glove. The deep hue reminded her of the lush, ancient forests she had once walked through as a child, the colors of nature, rich and alive. The sharp lapels of the jacket and the subtle golden stitching along the seams lent a refined touch to his ensemble. Beneath it, his black shirt peeked out, the high collar fastened neatly with a dark cravat, an emerald pin holding it in place—simple, but sophisticated, as though every part of his appearance was carefully crafted to exude elegance without pretension.

His trousers, dark as night, tapered perfectly, showing off his strong legs, while his polished black boots gleamed with every subtle movement. They rose just above his ankles, their sleek design catching the light with an understated brilliance. Around his waist, a simple black belt with a gold buckle completed the look, its practical elegance a perfect reflection of the man himself.

Everything about him spoke of wealth, influence, and authority—yet it was done with such an effortless grace that Celestia almost forgot she was standing in front of someone who could control an entire realm. He didn’t need to make an effort to be commanding. He simply was.

Her pulse quickened, and she tore her gaze away, trying—and failing—to ignore the rush of feelings his presence stirred inside her. How could she focus? How could she keep her composure in the presence of someone like him? It was as though his very presence was a wave crashing against her, gentle yet forceful, pulling her in with a strength that felt almost unnatural

His laughter danced in the air, low and conspiratorial, as if they shared a secret. “I am known as Caleb Nightglen.” Who? That couldn’t be right! Her mind raced. A smirk played at the corners of his lips. “You’re not in any danger, I promise you. I’m quite the gentleman. Now, if you’d do me the honor, dear stranger, and tell me your name.” His voice dripped with honey, wrapping around her like a warm embrace.

Despite herself, she felt her breath hitch again, and she could feel the heat creeping up her neck. There was something in the way he stood, so composed and dignified, yet the knowledge that this man—Lord Nightglen—had just walked into her life like a storm left her both terrified and intrigued. Would she ever be able to hold her ground against him?

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Celestia took a deep breath, striving to calm her racing heart. Her violet gaze looked past him to the corridor, with the large windows behind him casting soft light across the long row of doors. Clearing her throat, she took another shaky breath, her cheeks warming. "I’m... Celestia Pendragon."

"Celestia Pendragon." He repeated her name slowly, as though savoring it. His eye sparkled with renewed interest. "A beautiful name, to match a beautiful lady." With a slight, graceful bow, he added, "An honor to meet you, Lady Pendragon." He straightened, his gaze still fixed on her, a hint of smugness in his smile. "Now, what might be your reason for knocking on my door?" She walked slowly past him to get a glimpse of the Corridor again. Turning around to look at the door again.

Celestia fought to steady her breath, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks. The corridor, usually empty, felt charged with electricity as she tried to gather her thoughts. “I was on my way to a meeting with someone. As you see, I might have knocked on the wrong door. But I was told to knock at…” She glanced around, searching for the room numbers, her mind already foggy again, her embarrassment mounting. The small plate beside the door read ‘Room 235.’ “...the door for Room 2...3...5.”

Caleb followed her gaze to the plaque beside the door, his smirk widening knowingly. "These halls can be confusing," he said lightly. "Do tell me, who is it you're here to see?"

“I-I was meant to meet someone around this time…” Celestia fumbled through her pockets and shoulder bag, desperately searching for a small piece of paper. “Please, give me a moment. I wrote it down… My mind is so foggy and clouded lately…” She babbled, trying to hide her nervousness.

Caleb stood patiently, his arms crossed, golden eye never leaving her, observing every small detail. “Please, take your time; I am in no rush,” he assured, his voice low and soothing as if to calm her frantic thoughts.

Finally, she found the small note nestled in her bag. The words scrawled across it read: Meet Mr. C. Nightglen at Room 235 at 2 p.m.

She checked her pocket watch; it was already past two. Gathering her courage, she held the note out to him. “I’m meant to meet Mr. C. Nightglen at 2 p.m. in Room 235.” Embarrassment washed over her for her earlier awkwardness.

Caleb’s golden eye scanned the note with amusement before he chuckled softly to himself. Letting her note slip into his pocket without so much as a glance as if it were little more than a stray leaf he'd picked up. Celestia’s brow furrowed slightly. She wasn’t sure what reaction she’d expected—perhaps a nod, a word, something. But he gave her none of that.

It was unsettling. He had a way of absorbing the world around him without letting it touch him. For a moment, she wondered if she’d misstepped by leaving him the note at all. What game was he playing, and why did she feel she was already losing? "Well then," he said, stepping closer, his voice a low murmur, "you’re exactly where you’re meant to be." Something inside her got warm. For over a year no one has told her that. She felt seen by this man.

Celestia’s violet eyes widened, cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink as she realized her mistake. Mr. C. Nightglen, was indeed the young Lord Nightglen, everyone talked about. Every woman wanted to be with this Bachelor. Every man respected his strength, political intellect and he was the best information broker known in the city. "I… I’m sorry if I was disrespectful," she managed, unable to meet his gaze.

Caleb raised a brow, his tone playful. "Oh, not at all. In fact, I found it… endearing." His gaze softened. "Come inside, Lady Pendragon." He offered her his arm, guiding her into the cozy, wood-scented room, and closed the door. The room felt warmer and surprisingly inviting, lined with shelves brimming with books, and on his desk, a cup of now-cold tea besides mountains of open books, parchments and stacks of closed books.

Celestia’s nerves settled slightly as she took in the room’s gentle lamplight. "It’s… lovely," she murmured, admiring the ambiance. Caleb observed her reaction with a faint smile. "I find it to be a quiet retreat," Caleb chuckled softly. “I have a weakness for books. They keep me company in my lonely hours.” His gaze flickered over her face, studying her as she took in the surroundings.

He led her to a plush couch, motioning for her to sit. “Thank you…” The dim lighting felt cozy, and the absence of heavy curtains let the soft glow of two small lamps create a serene ambiance. The scent of aged wood and books mingled with a hint of musky cologne, making her feel at ease. For the first time in months, she felt relaxed. As she settled onto the couch, she flinched slightly when he turned on a small desk lamp, illuminating the room more. He said softly, his gaze following her around the room. "Now, shall we continue our conversation? What brings you here, Lady Pendragon? What have you been up to that has left you confused?”"

She looked up, worry clouding her violet eyes. "I—I’m not sure myself.."

Caleb’s gaze softened as he noticed Celestia rummaging through her bag again, her burgundy hair slipping forward as she searched. Annoyed, she tucked it behind her ear and finally pulled out a small, intricately bound hardcover book.

“I… started writing down almost everything,” she said, flipping carefully through the pages. “I have this condition. It’s been at least a year… maybe even longer. It started after I visited the 10th Level of the City Dungeon with my old party.” She paused, as if trying to remember. But suddenly, her face contorted in pain, her hand grasping her left temple. “And every time I try to… remember more, I get this terrible headache.”

Caleb’s brows knitted with concern as he observed her struggle, leaning forward to sit beside her. Caleb paused, his gaze lingering on her as if weighing some unspoken thought. Celestia felt her pulse quicken, each breath suddenly a conscious effort. Then, slowly, he leaned in—just a fraction closer, the air between them narrowing with an intensity she hadn’t anticipated.

The distance was slight, but enough that she could catch a faint, earthy scent clinging to him, something dark and warm, like old leather and winter firewood. His eye, a piercing honey gold, held her captive, not in command but in invitation, and she couldn’t look away.

Was he testing her? Or was there something… more?

Celestia swallowed, willing herself to stay still. Her fingers itched to move, to reach out and break the tension, to either pull him closer or push him back—but she did neither. She could only wait, her mind spinning with questions she dared not voice, wondering what he saw in her silence.

Then he blinked, pulling back just slightly, but the impression he left remained heavy, suspended in the air between them like a word left unspoken. His voice was low, almost soothing. “That sounds like more than exhaustion. Did anything… unusual happen during that descent to the 10th level? Any strange encounters or sights?”

Celestia flipped through her notebook again, frustration seeping into her expression as she scanned the empty pages. “I… I don’t remember. And when I asked my old party, they just laughed and walked away. The dungeon staff were no help either.” She sighed, exasperated. “So I started searching for information on my own. I heard stories in taverns and guilds about a Mr. Nightglen—a man known not only for his skill in swordsmanship and horse riding but also as an accomplished mage. Then..I think it was four weeks ago the voices started…so I tried to find this Mr.Nightglen…finding the name her in the City office. Two weeks of effort, and I finally got this appointment…”

A faint smirk played at Caleb’s lips. He studied her, as if intrigued by her persistence. “I suppose I should take that as a compliment,” he said, his honey golden eye gleamed with amusement. Leaning forward slightly, he rested his elbows on his knees. “Two weeks is quite the effort. Did the staff treat you well?”

“Well,” Celestia said, frowning slightly, “a very serious-looking woman in the atrium gave me a hard time, I think. She seemed… judgmental, and a little rough when I arrived today. But two days ago, an elderly man wrote down the appointment for me. I would’ve thanked him, but he disappeared before I could.”

Amused, Caleb leaned back, crossing his arms. “A very serious woman, hmm?” A mischievous glint lit his eye. “Would you happen to remember her name?”

Celestia rummaged through her bag again, glancing around anxiously. “She didn’t tell me her name, but I remember her look—stunning, blond, pencil skirt, sharp heels. Honestly, the total opposite of me.” She sighed, her hand still searching her bag. “Oh, and—did you see my note, by any chance?” She glanced toward the door, half-expecting she might have dropped it.

“Your note?” Caleb chuckled, producing a small, folded slip from his pocket, holding it just out of reach as her eyes widened. “Is this the note you were frantically searching for?”

“Yes!” she gasped, reaching for it, but Caleb pulled his hand back just slightly, his smirk deepening. “My lord, please give it back!” Her voice wavered, and a hint of desperation flashed in her eyes.

He let out a soft laugh, enjoying her determination. “So eager?” he teased, watching her stretch forward to reach it. “It would be kind of you to give it back,” she said, her voice soft but tinged with worry.