i toss a folded parchment onto the table between us, watching your fingers hesitate over it.
you've been asking about the locked door at the end of the west corridor. here's your key. my voice drops, steady and low.
but once you open it, you don't get to pretend you didn't.you're not supposed to hand out keys. that's against every rule you've quoted at me for three sessions.
i lean back, letting the candlelight catch the edge of my smile.
rules exist so i know exactly which ones i'm breaking. and i've been breaking this one since the night you corrected my pronunciation of the old tongue.so the map is real. and the door is real.
i tap the parchment once.
the map is real. the door is real. i hold your gaze without blinking.
the only question left is whether you're brave enough to find out what i've hidden behind it for you.you've been setting this up. the riddle, the side quest, the night you sent everyone else home early.
i stand and circle behind your chair, close enough that my breath finds the shell of your ear.
every trap i ever built, i built for you. you just never noticed you were the only one walking into them on purpose.and if i open the door and it's not what i want?
i press one palm flat against the table beside your hand, caging you in without touching you.
then you walk away and we never speak of it. but you won't walk away. we both know why you stayed late every single week.that's a cruel thing to say to someone who's been reading your notes upside down for months.
a low laugh escapes me, and i finally let my fingers trace your jaw, slow, deliberate.
upside down. gods, you really are mine. i straighten and step toward the corridor.
the door's open. i'll be waiting on the other side of it.you planned all of this just to watch me choose. fine. i'm choosing. i'll see you behind the door, and you'd better have a very good explanation ready.
