It was as if she had fallen into a deep sleep in a bathtub, or returned to her mother's embrace as a child.
Amid a faint sense of reassurance, Isabel felt her consciousness gradually sink into a sea of nothingness.
She could still vaguely sense the taste of Drunken Dream Tincture lingering heavily in her mouth, slowly seeping into her nasal cavity from deep in her throat.
The rich aroma of wine was mixed with the freshness of sesame and Luo Le leaves, along with a faint but extremely distinct earthy smell.
—It was like chewing soil after a spring rain, or eating tender asparagus after boiling it and pairing it with wine.
This thought suddenly surfaced in Isabel's mind, and she instinctively felt pleased that she had found such an apt metaphor.
When she awoke again, she found herself sitting in the third seat.
Isabel turned her head and saw that familiar figure sitting in the first position—
He was wearing that pale clerical robe, his body casually leaning back against the chair. His left arm rested on the armrest, propping up his chin, while his right hand lay casually in front of him.
The Flame Butterfly was hidden in his right sleeve—the scattered points of fire made his cuff resemble a campfire spitting sparks.
Even though his features were blurred, Isabel still recognized Iver's identity with ease.
Once she confirmed that Iver was here too, Isabel breathed a sigh of relief.
She was no longer as timid and frightened as she had been at the beginning... If she had been her former self, she probably would have panicked upon entering and finding that Iver was absent.
Even so, being matched with someone familiar was certainly a good thing.
That was still better than working with strangers—people whose backgrounds