It was a stark contrast to the friendly corridor she was standing in, facing a man whose presence was as captivating as it was unsettling. His piercing gaze stood out against the dark green of his tailored suit, hinting at noble status and a world of secrets. Was he the right person? The soft glow of the desk lamp cast delicate shadows across the room, illuminating the aged paper, polished wood, and a hint of herbal tea that infused the air.

  With an eyepatch concealing his right eye, the man held himself with an elegance that belied his quiet power. A faint smirk graced his lips as he glanced up from an open book, his eye locking onto hers. “Greetings, my lady. Can I help you with something?” he said, his voice smooth like silk yet 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 blurred, 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. His golden gaze met hers again with a quiet fascination, as if he traced the edges of an untold story only he could sense. “That’s what you think? 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, my 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 truly sorry that I disturbed you, sir.” Confusion swirled within her as she realised she had completely ignored his question. In a fluster, she turned to leave, desperate to escape this embarrassing situation. When did she take another step inside the office? Celestia had walked a few small steps toward this mysterious man.

  The man moved effortlessly into her path, his steps unhurried, his expression unreadable. He leaned in just enough to unsettle her, his voice dipping into something smooth, laced with curiosity. "Not so fast. I did ask you a question…"

  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 of 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, towering over her by a head. His broad shoulders tapered into a lean, muscular frame—strength without effort. His presence was undeniable, a force that commanded respect. She swallowed again, unable to suppress the way her eyes were drawn to his movements, how his every gesture seemed carefully measured and purposeful.

  His piercing honey-golden eye was the first thing she noticed—the intensity almost unnerving. She felt as though he peeled away the layers she had worked so hard to maintain. 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.

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  His hair—short, ruffled, and 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 forest green jacket suit 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 colours 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 before someone who could control an entire realm. He didn’t need to make an effort to be commanding. He 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? His presence felt like a gentle yet forceful wave, drawing her in with an almost unnatural strength.

  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 known to be quite the gentleman. Now, if you’d do me honour, 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?

  Celestia took a deep breath, strivin

  "Celestia Pendragon." He repeated her name with deliberate care, his golden eye darkening with thought. "Pendragon… as in the Archduchy of Tharelis?" His tone was measured, not accusatory, but inquisitive, the kind of question only a man of his intellect would ask.

  Celestia stiffened. A shadow flickered across her expression, but she masked it quickly, offering only a slight shake of her head.

  Caleb watched her carefully, a flicker in his golden eye, yet he did not press the matter. Instead, his smirk softened into something almost imperceptible. With an elegant bow, he said smoothly, "Regardless, an honour to make your acquaintance, Lady Pendragon."

  He straightened, his gaze steady but not unkind. Whether she claimed the name or not, he would grant her the respect it carried. And, perhaps, remind her that here—within his domain—she had nothing to fear.

  After a pause, he let the silence settle between them before tilting his head slightly. "Now, tell me—what business brings you to my office?" Celestia walked slowly past him to get a glimpse of the corridor again. Turning around to look at the door a second time.

  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, a subtle shift in his expression. “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 searchinge a moment. I wrote it down… My mind is so foggy and clouded lately…” She babbled, trying to hide her nervousness.

  With his arms crossed, and his golden eye fixed on her, Caleb stood patiently, meticulously 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 in 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. For whatever reason, she wanted to prove something with the note in her hand. “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 he had just taken from her hand 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.