The room was a testament to the architectural grandeur of the Academy. A majestic tripartite Gothic arch dominated the main wall, where three rose windows with leaded glass filtered the last rays of dusk, creating ethereal patterns on the stone floor. Through them, the towers of the academy were silhouetted against a sky tinged with purple and gold, while the ancestral forest gradually sank into the first shadows of nightfall.

  On the side wall, Gothic arches repeated the stained glass pattern, their ogival forms framed by finely carved columns. The stone fireplace dominated another wall, elevated on a platform that created an intimate space. An elaborate stone medallion, possibly an ancient mechanism to regulate the chimney draft, decorated the center of the frame. The fire burned constantly, casting dancing shadows on the walls.

  Around it extended a medieval kitchen area: dark wooden shelves housed a collection of clay vessels and ancient jars, while wrought iron hooks held kitchen utensils that gleamed in the firelight. A side niche stored spice and grain jars, their contents barely visible through leaded glass, creating a functional space that combined practicality with the Gothic elegance of the rest of the room.

  The oval porcelain bathtub with lion’s feet rested next to the main window, its elegant lines complementing the majesty of the Gothic arch. A cushioned seat extended under the window, while pink flowers in pots adorned the stone windowsill. Beyond, where the twilight light barely reached, extended the more private area of the room. A narrow cot rested against the wall, its white linen sheets and emerald green wool blankets neatly folded. Beside it, a carved wooden screen created an intimate space, concealing behind it a polished medieval wooden toilet. A simple dark oak wardrobe completed the corner, its doors slightly worn from use but maintained with evident care.

  Zhen’s eyes were drawn to a portrait placed on a low piece of furniture built into the wall, its dark wooden doors framed by the Gothic arch of the niche. The painting, though weathered by time, showed an unusual couple: a kind-faced human man and an elven woman with silver hair like Felicity’s. Their gazes conveyed a serenity that now seemed to belong to another life.

  “Are they your parents?” he asked, turning to her.

  Felicity nodded. Her expression hardened for a moment, while her fingers played nervously with the hem of her sleeve.

  “My mother was a healer. People would come seeking her help when they needed it,” she paused, her voice becoming distant. “My father made furniture and carved wood. We lived in the ancient forest.”

  The weight of her words using the past tense hung in the air. Zhen noticed how she avoided looking directly at the portrait, as if two years hadn’t been enough to soften the pain.

  “When I returned from my first year...” her voice trailed off, and her eyes shone with a sadness that seemed to have become part of her. “The house was empty. Two years have passed, and no one knows what happened to them.”

  The contrast was overwhelming. The majesty of the Gothic arches and stained glass windows framed a solitude that had become her constant companion. Each object in the room now told a different story: not just of poverty, but of a loss that time had failed to mitigate.

  “You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?” Zhen asked quietly, more to himself than to her.

  Felicity remained still for a moment before sitting on the edge of the bed. Her hands rested on her lap, nervous, while her gaze was lost on the floor.

  “I haven’t had an easy life,” she finally admitted. “But I never lacked hope... until now.”

  Her confession, simple yet laden with emotion, left Zhen speechless. He sat in a nearby chair, trying to organize his thoughts while silence filled the room. Finally, it was she who broke the stillness.

  “Zhen, as I mentioned before, I have summoned you as my familiar,” her voice was soft, but there was a determination in it he hadn’t noticed before.

  “Why me?” he asked, keeping his gaze fixed on hers. “Why choose me, a complete stranger, and tear me from my world?”

  She took a deep breath, as if gathering strength before answering.

  “Because I had no other choice,” she finally said, her hands tightly gripping the fabric of her skirt. “I needed someone strong, someone who could help me prove my worth.”

  Zhen’s brow furrowed.

  “Prove your worth? To whom?”

  Felicity looked away, her voice trembling slightly.

  “To everyone. To my teachers, to the students at this academy... to myself. I’m not like them, Zhen. I’m not strong enough or talented enough to fit in. But with you, maybe... I don’t know... we could make it.”

  Her honesty disarmed Zhen, though it didn’t entirely dispel the bitterness in his chest.

  “What about me?” he replied, his tone lower but no less firm. “I left behind everything I knew! My family, my friends, my entire life. How do you expect me to accept this?”

  Felicity went pale. For a moment, she seemed about to crumble. But instead, she lifted her head. Her eyes shone with a mixture of guilt and determination.

  “I don’t expect you to accept it right away. But I want you to know that I don’t see you as just a familiar,” her voice was now barely a whisper, but each word seemed weighted with meaning. “I want you to be my partner. Someone with whom I can face this world.”

  Zhen remained silent, processing her words. There was something genuine about her, something he couldn’t ignore.

  “You’re different, Felicity,” he finally said, his tone somewhat softer. “In my world, elves and half-elves are just myths. I always dreamed of meeting them, but this...” he gestured around the room. “This isn’t a dream. It’s a reality I’m not prepared for.”

  She nodded slowly, her eyes showing a mixture of understanding and sadness.

  “I know,” she whispered. “But perhaps, with time, we can find a purpose together.”

  The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but laden with unspoken promises. The candlelight serpentined on the stone walls, creating shadows that seemed to dance to the rhythm of their shared thoughts. The summoning ritual had left Zhen with a feeling of exhaustion that went beyond the physical, as if every fiber of his being had been rewritten by magic.

  “I need a bath,” he said softly, feeling the weight of the journey between worlds in every muscle.

  The air in the room was infused with a faint warmth, insufficient to counter the cold that seeped through the stone corners. The firelight cast pulsing shadows that danced on the walls, moving in perfect harmony with the crackling of burning wood.

  Felicity moved with studied grace as she poured hot water into the large porcelain tub. Her gestures were precise and measured, as if each movement was part of her own ritual, though she avoided meeting Zhen’s gaze. The flames illuminated her face, revealing golden hues in her silver hair and a depth in her eyes that spoke of secrets yet unshared. Each of her movements seemed charged with a delicacy that, to him, was as fascinating as it was disconcerting.

  Felicity stood up after filling the tub, her hands nervously smoothing the folds of her skirt. When she turned to leave, Zhen’s voice stopped her.

  “Felicity,” his voice was soft but firm. “Wait.”

  She turned slowly, her eyes meeting his for an instant before drifting to the dancing shadows on the floor. The air between them seemed charged with a strange electricity.

  “Stay,” he said, with a serenity that contrasted with the moment’s tension. “There’s something I want to show you.”

  Felicity’s discomfort was palpable in the way her fingers played with the hem of her sleeve, but she remained motionless by the door. Zhen began to undress with deliberately slow movements, as if each gesture was part of a ritual. The naturalness with which he removed his clothes revealed a different relationship with modesty, something that in his world seemed as natural as breathing.

  Although Felicity tried to keep her gaze fixed on the shadows cast by the fireplace, her treacherous eyes caught glimpses of defined muscles and bronzed skin. When Zhen submerged himself in the hot water, a sigh of relief escaped his lips, the sound reverberating off the stone walls as the warmth began to unravel the tension accumulated in his body.

  Steam rose in small spirals around his face, creating an ethereal halo that mingled with the dying light of dusk. For a moment, only the soft crackling of the fireplace and the gentle movement of water could be heard.

  “Do you know what Chi is?” he asked suddenly. His voice broke the silence that had filled the room.

  Felicity raised her gaze, though she still maintained a prudent distance by the Gothic window.

  “No, I’ve never heard of it,” she answered honestly.

  Zhen settled in the tub, letting the hot water reach his neck. Steam rose in small spirals around his face, mingling with the dying light filtering through the rose window.

  “Chi is the life energy that flows through all of us,” he explained softly. “In my world, we believe it connects body, mind, and spirit. We learn to channel it through movement and breathing, finding balance and strength.”

  She remained silent, listening attentively. There was something in his tone, in the way he spoke, that made her relax. At least, while he remained submerged, his vulnerability no longer made her so uncomfortable.

  “And what does that have to do with... all this?” she finally asked, making a vague gesture toward the tub and him.

  Zhen smiled slightly, tilting his head back and closing his eyes for a moment.

  “Nudity, in my world, isn’t something we fear. It’s part of accepting who we are, without pretense or barriers. But I understand it might be different here,” he added, looking at her again. “That’s why I want to show you what it means to me, in the only way I know how.”

  Felicity didn’t respond, but her expression softened. Something in his words had touched her, though she wouldn’t admit it. The tension in her shoulders began to ease, as if Zhen’s serenity was contagious.

  When Zhen emerged from the tub, water slid down his body like liquid silver threads, revealing an anatomy that spoke of years of dedication and discipline. Each drop traced tempting paths over his bronzed skin, defining the architecture of muscles that moved like waves beneath his surface. Felicity held her breath, her fingers unconsciously caressing the fabric of her skirt while her eyes drank in every detail of this vision that defied her innocence.

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  With eyes closed in deep concentration, Zhen began his ancestral dance. His hands traced the beginning of the “Embrace the Tiger” form, his naked body moving with a grace that transcended the earthly. Each muscle tensed and relaxed in perfect harmony: powerful arms cutting through the air like eagle wings, a sculpted chest glistening with water droplets under the firelight, strong legs planted on the ground like ancient oak roots.

  Felicity felt her body responding in ways she had never experienced. Her lips parted involuntarily, while her fingers traced unconscious patterns on her thighs. The heat born in her belly spread like liquid fire through her veins, tinting her cheeks crimson and quickening her breath into soft gasps. Her back arched slightly, as if her body wanted to draw closer to that source of heat and power moving before her.

  It was then that the tattoo began to glow. A golden radiance, soft as the first ray of dawn, pulsed with each beat of her racing heart. The vapor rising from Zhen’s humid skin danced in the air, creating a mystical halo that seemed to respond to something deeper than mere Chi, something that Felicity felt awakening in her own blood with each shaky breath.

  Zhen executed “Embrace the Tiger,” his hands extending gracefully to the sides before returning softly to his solar plexus. The tension in his back muscles drew patterns of light and shadow on his golden skin, and Felicity couldn’t help but imagine how it would feel to have that strength enveloping her, embracing her. Her heart beat with an unknown cadence, while a mixture of wonder and desire began to bloom in the deepest part of her being.

  Zhen advanced across the stone tiles, his wet feet leaving ephemeral prints that gleamed under the firelight. Each step was deliberate, as if the air itself was a tangible element he had to traverse with grace. The vapor emanating from his body created an ethereal aura around him, blurring the edges of his figure in the golden penumbra.

  Captivated by that vision, Felicity felt her body respond with a life of its own. Her fingers, as if drawn by a magnetic force, unconsciously slid toward her thighs. Her other hand rested on her belly, tracing invisible circles around her navel, while an unknown warmth bloomed inside her. It was a new sensation, intoxicating, making her feel dizzy and completely awake at the same time.

  Zhen’s proximity intensified every sensation. The air between them seemed charged with electricity, and each movement of his naked body was like a note in a symphony that only she could hear. Her heart beat so strongly she feared he might hear it.

  Finally, Zhen stepped back with measured steps on the wet tiles. With a grace that spoke of years of practice, he executed the traditional bow: his hands joined before his chest, head bowed in respect to the ancestral art he had just shared.

  When his eyes opened slowly, Felicity reacted as if awakening from a trance. Her thighs, which had unconsciously relaxed during the spectacle, came together with a sudden movement. Her hands, which had been exploring unknown territories, flew to her lap as she straightened her posture, adopting the composure proper to a lady of the Academy. At that precise moment, as if responding to the breaking of the intimate moment, the golden glow of the tattoo extinguished, leaving only the echo of its brilliance in Felicity’s memory.

  Zhen stood still, his hands joined before his bare chest, his feet firmly planted on the wet floor. The golden glow of the tattoo pulsed one last time before completely fading as his eyes opened, as if awakening from a deep dream.

  “This is Tai Chi,” he said in a soft voice charged with an intensity that echoed in Felicity’s heart. “It’s not magic, but sometimes it feels like it is.”

  Felicity watched him in silence, her lips slightly parted as if wanting to say something but unable to find the words. In that instant, she understood that what she had just witnessed was more than a simple physical exercise; it was a profound declaration about connection and vulnerability. The overwhelming attraction she felt toward him was new and disconcerting; an intoxicating mixture of desire and uncertainty that made her body react beyond her control.

  Though words weren’t necessary between them, they both knew something had changed. A spark had ignited in the room’s charged air; something that transcended the physical and ventured into unexplored territories.

  “Do you have a pillow and something I could use to sleep on the floor?” Zhen finally asked, breaking the silence.

  Felicity looked at him in surprise, as if not understanding his request at first.

  “On the floor?” she repeated, almost in a whisper.

  “Yes. I don’t want to make you more uncomfortable than I already have today.” The sincerity in his tone disarmed her.

  Felicity approached an old wooden chest next to her bed and pulled out a worn green blanket and a pillow that had seen better days. With delicate movements, characteristic of her elven nature, she spread the blanket on the floor in front of the fireplace, where the embers still provided a gentle warmth.

  “It’s not much,” she said, smoothing the wrinkles in the fabric with her gloved hands, “but tomorrow we can get straw from the stables to improvise a more comfortable mattress.”

  Her fingers nervously traced the golden embroidery of her sleeve while watching Zhen, aware of how inadequate the arrangement was for someone torn from his world without warning.

  “For tonight, it will have to do,” she added softly, almost apologetically.

  Without knowing exactly why, Felicity found herself walking toward her wardrobe. Her steps were slow, almost hypnotic, guided by an instinct older than reason. The warmth that had bloomed in her belly during Zhen’s demonstration still pulsed with a life of its own, clouding her thoughts with unfamiliar sensations.

  With trembling fingers, she lit a candle behind the ancient carved wooden screen. The flame danced for a moment, casting its golden light against the fabric, creating an intimate setting that separated her from the rest of the world. Her hands, as if possessing their own will, began to untie the laces of her corset.

  The candlelight drew her silhouette against the screen’s fabric, transforming her into a living painting. Zhen was paralyzed watching this dance of shadows, each movement creating a play of light that outlined Felicity’s figure with ethereal delicacy.

  The whisper of silk falling preceded the image of her arms rising to free the ties of her blouse. Her breasts, released from the corset’s restrictions, swayed gently before settling into their natural form, their silhouettes projecting like a dream against the delicate screen. The arch of her back as she stretched, the trace of her waist as she turned, her silver hair spilling over bare shoulders composed a breathtaking picture.

  Zhen remained motionless, caught between desire and modesty. His mind, trained in the discipline of Tai Chi, succumbed to chaos before this involuntary dance of shadows. The accidental intimacy of watching a feminine silhouette undressing became an almost mystical experience, each movement an ethereal brushstroke, each curve a verse of a forbidden poem.

  The innocent choreography behind the screen transformed into the sweetest of torments. He tried to seek refuge in the familiarity of his phone, but his hands, capable of executing the most complex forms of Tai Chi with millimetric precision, now trembled like autumn leaves. The device slipped between his treacherous fingers, hitting the floor with a crash that resonated in every corner of his altered consciousness.

  The movement behind the screen came to an abrupt halt.

  “Everything alright?” she asked, her voice floating like silk from behind the screen.

  “Y-yes, yes... sorry,” Zhen responded, while hastily picking up the phone, grateful for the dimness that concealed the blush he felt creeping up his neck. “Just... something slipped from my hands.”

  Felicity resumed her movements behind the screen, completely unaware of the whirlwind of emotions she had unleashed in her new roommate.

  “Can I move my head now?” he asked, trying to make his voice sound casual despite the nervousness that gripped his throat.

  Felicity’s light laughter, like the tinkling of crystal bells, broke the moment’s tension.

  “Yes, you can.”

  Zhen slowly raised his gaze, finding her standing by the bed. She had changed her dress for a white cotton nightgown, with a cut that recalled Victorian sleepwear. The fabric fell in wide and modest folds from her bare shoulders, the opaque textile concealing her figure beneath layers of soft cotton. The bare shoulders contrasted with the modesty of the design, while the loose sleeves added an air of ancient elegance to her presence.

  “It suits you,” he commented before he could stop himself.

  Felicity glanced at him sideways, and Zhen, uncomfortable with his own comment, hurried to change the subject.

  “Have you seen this before?” he asked, showing her the phone.

  She shook her head, moving closer with curiosity. Zhen quickly explained what it was: a device for communicating, storing memories, and entertainment. When he mentioned the camera, her eyes lit up with interest.

  “Would you like me to show you?” he offered, and she nodded.

  Zhen turned the camera toward them, adjusting the angle to include them both. The firelight illuminated their faces with a warm glow, and although Felicity seemed somewhat unsure at first, a shy smile appeared on her lips at the exact moment he captured the image.

  “Look,” he said, turning the phone so she could see the result.

  Felicity leaned toward the screen, observing the selfie with a mixture of wonder and amusement.

  “It’s... incredible. Can it do more?”

  Zhen smiled. “Of course, let me try something.”

  He aimed the camera at her, adjusting the frame to capture a moment that seemed suspended between two worlds. The sunset light filtering through the Gothic window bathed her figure in a golden radiance, highlighting the duality of her heritage. Her silhouette, neither elven nor entirely human, possessed a unique grace: her mother’s ethereal slenderness combined with her father’s earthly warmth. The white cotton nightgown fell elegantly over her generous yet refined curves, her narrow waist accentuating the natural fullness of her hips. Her bare shoulders revealed skin that seemed to capture and hold the light, while her silver hair fell in soft waves over them, framing a face that blended elven delicacy with human sensuality.

  He pressed the button, avoiding the flash to preserve the moment’s enchantment. The captured image was a testament to her singular beauty: a perfect harmony between the mystical and the earthly, where every curve and gesture spoke of a grace that belonged completely to neither world, yet created something entirely new and captivating.

  When he showed her the image, Felicity was left breathless. It was like seeing herself through another’s eyes: the young woman in the photograph radiated a beauty that transcended the expectations of both races, one that spoke of the perfection that could only be born from the blending of two worlds.

  “It’s like a spell,” she finally whispered.

  Zhen smiled, feeling a strange satisfaction at her reaction. He moved toward the blanket that Felicity had laid out in front of the fireplace.

  “It’s your turn to rest,” he said, settling onto the makeshift bed.

  Felicity slid under the covers of her bed, the cool cotton against her skin sending a shiver through her still-sensitive body. Her hands, as if possessing a will of their own, absently caressed her thighs while her mind relived the hypnotic dance of muscles and shadows she had witnessed. The warmth that had bloomed in her belly persisted, a new and intoxicating sensation that made her aware of every brush of fabric against her skin.

  Zhen turned on his phone one last time, the screen’s light dimly illuminating his face. He quickly scrolled past the family photo—his parents, sister, and cousin smiling in a distant park—until he stopped at the portrait he had just taken. The image captured Felicity in a moment of perfect vulnerability: her lips slightly parted, her eyes shining with a mixture of innocence and newly discovered desire, the firelight bathing her profile in liquid gold.

  The firelight cast dancing shadows on the stone walls as they both sank into their own thoughts, each reliving the shared moments from different but equally intense perspectives. Exhaustion finally overtook them, but the tension in the air persisted, like a silent promise of what was to come.