In the Daphne Palace at the far western edge of the Great Palace, candle flames danced like soybeans, casting half an image of a woman holding a book upon the stained-glass windows. Fountain water murmured in the courtyard, and an intoxicating incense hung in the air.
"I'm back."
The cool-faced woman silently stared at the visitor, making the great Basileus feel a surge of panic in his heart.
For a long while.
Only then did she calmly look away. "Don't get on the bed unless you've washed yourself clean."
Lothar gave an awkward laugh. "There's a special bathhouse in the Daphne Palace. I've already washed for quite a while."
After a long silence, he quietly climbed onto the bed.
Then Prajna suddenly said in an even tone, "If you like doing it outdoors, we can try that next time."
"Ah, actually, it wasn't—"
"Forget it. I'm not as shameless as that woman Jeanne."
After pondering for a moment, Prajna gave Lothar a light push, and the two of them immediately fell into another world.
They stood atop a towering castle tower. Below lay the royal court of the Kingdom of Sintra from The Witcher novels. Courtiers and nobles streamed through the palace without pause. The vast army of the Nilfgaardian Empire was pressing in, and everyone was feverishly preparing for war.
Prajna gently pulled away the bath towel wrapped around Lothar, her icy fingers brushing over his back.
"If it's only in front of these 'people,' I don't mind."
The world within the book was born and destroyed at her whim. She could make everyone unable to see the two of them—or even if they did see them, she did not particularly care.
Time passed swiftly, and in the blink of an eye, a week had gone by.
The