Then a slightly cool, soft touch pressed against his lips.
"Ah!"
As if startled, Pandora let out a short cry.
Her slightly forward-leaning body instantly straightened, and she covered her rapidly flushing cheek with a bashful expression.
Dark's mouth fell open, his eyes filled with astonishment.
The sense of danger he had felt moments ago, as though he had been targeted by a wild beast, vanished as if it had never existed.
At this point, even if he knew he had been had, he naturally could not say so.
Besides, it was still unclear who had actually taken advantage of whom.
Tonight, Pandora Doragon had broken with tradition and worn a lace gown dominated by black and red. Her face, which usually bore no more than light makeup, was now much more colorful, making her somewhat pale complexion appear brighter and more alluring—naturally, this was Hephaestus Doragon's handiwork.
In her everyday state, she displayed her paternal bloodline: long jet-black hair, the standard black-haired beauty with straight locks. Yet unlike the slender, black-haired literary girls so often seen in fiction, the generosity of her bosom made it difficult for anyone to associate her with that kind of delicate image.
But it was precisely the perfect coexistence of those two temperaments that held Dark's gaze fast.
Though it was a little embarrassing to say aloud, every single aspect of Senior Pandora landed squarely in his strike zone.
Before falling in love with someone, humans were ultimately visual creatures.
Even after falling in love, matching one's tastes in appearance was undeniably a bonus.
A cold wind blew as crowds flowed past.
Dark Dimon stood at the end of the bridge, staring at her without blinking.
Under his unmoving gaze, the blush on Pandora's cheeks could not help spreading outward.
But before her