"Huh?" Serena blinked at Yarrow, her eyes narrowing in playful suspicion as she instinctively took a step back.
"I said?Uncle White, could you at least pick a more appropriate moment before making such dirty jokes?" Yarrow groaned, rubbing his forehead as if enduring a long-suffering pain.
White's lips curled into a knowing smirk. "But what's the fun in that if I don't get to see a reaction?" His gaze drifted to Serena and then to the strikingly exotic beauty beside her—Zen, with her dragon horns glinting under the soft lantern light, wings folded in casual arrogance behind her. His smirk wavered for a moment, his amusement giving way to something else.
"This is White, the owner of this fine little alchemy den," Yarrow introduced with a wry chuckle. "Middle-aged, divorced, and sexually repressed beyond all reason, so he fills the void with dirty jokes and alchemy fumes."
Serena let out a giggle, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Sounds charming."
"Don't encourage him," Yarrow muttered.
White cleared his throat, shaking off his momentary surprise. "So, Yarrow… you've got yourself a fine little entourage, huh?" His voice dropped just a fraction, eyes flicking between Serena's teasing smirk and Zen's cool indifference. "Two stunning ladies following you around… I have to admit, I'm a little jealous. And I do mean jealous."
Serena raised a brow. "Is that admiration, or are you already plotting ways to get one of us to sit in your lap?"
White's grin widened. "Now, now, dear, I'm old, not dead."
Yarrow groaned. "Don't encourage him."
White leaned in, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper as he pulled Yarrow toward the counter. "Listen, about the tall, sexy one with the horns—Dragonborn, right?"
Yarrow arched a brow. "Can't you tell?"
"Oh, I can see it. I just can't believe it." White exhaled, his fingers tapping the counter as he glanced back at Zen. She had wandered toward the shop entrance, idly toying with a set of armor on display, her tail flicking lazily. "A woman like that… Yarrow, tell me, how in the hell did you manage it? Give me the secret, and I'll throw in free potions for a year."
Yarrow smirked. "That's a long, complicated story, and trust me, you don't want to go down that road."
White crossed his arms. "Oh, I do. And for good reason. Do you have any idea how valuable a Dragonborn's body is?"
Yarrow blinked. "... I feel like you're about to say something deeply inappropriate."
White leaned in closer. "Dragonborn sweat alone—one tiny spoonful of it—sells for two Gold Lang."
Yarrow stiffened. "Two Sike?"
White's grin turned wicked. "No, no. Gold Lang."
Yarrow sucked in a sharp breath.
"And the purer the bloodline, the more valuable the… fluids." White waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Sweat, blood, saliva, nails, even…"
CRASH!
The armor display at the entrance toppled over, pieces scattering across the floor.
Zen, standing amidst the wreckage, casually tossed a helmet aside and clapped the dust from her hands. "Oops." Her voice was smooth, rich, a little too satisfied.
White turned back, suddenly very aware that she might have overheard just enough.
"Ahem—no worries! I'll clean it up later," he said, forcing a chuckle.
Then, just as quickly, he refocused on Yarrow. "So… be honest with me. You and her. How close? Think you could get your hands on some of those precious materials?"
Yarrow gave him a flat stare. "You're really asking if I can milk a dragon?"
White nearly choked. "That's not—I mean—I wouldn't phrase it that way, but if you could…"
Yarrow exhaled slowly. "Our relationship is… complicated. Let's just say she has about three different reasons to kill me at any given moment."
White sighed dramatically. "Damn shame. A missed opportunity, my friend."
Yarrow couldn't help but smirk. If only White really knew what he was dealing with. Zexia wasn't just a Dragonborn—she was a Dragon King. A walking, breathing treasure trove in human form. If White found out, he might just drop dead on the spot.
Shaking off the thought, he finally got to business, sliding a list across the counter.
"Here, this is what we actually came for."
White picked up the paper and scanned it. "Huh. A full alchemy setup?" His gaze lifted. "You learning alchemy now?"
"Not me. Her." Yarrow motioned toward Serena, who stepped forward with a confident smile.
White's eyes lit up. "Ahhh. A beautiful woman who knows her way around potions. Now that is dangerously attractive."
Serena gave him a slow, knowing smile. "Oh? You like women who can handle their ingredients properly?"
White exhaled. "Absolutely. The way a lady stirs a potion can tell you everything you need to know about her hands."
Serena tapped a finger against her lips, feigning deep thought. "Then you'll be very interested in my stirring technique."
Yarrow pinched the bridge of his nose. "I told you not to encourage him."
White dropped a dirty joke so cold it could freeze lava. Serena forced a stiff smile, her eyes flicking to Yarrow as if silently begging for rescue.
"Yeah… we'll just pretend that never happened," Yarrow muttered, sliding the deposit across the counter before quickly ushering Serena toward the exit.
As they stepped out into the warm evening air, Serena exhaled dramatically. "I think my soul just took damage."
"Could've been worse. He could've offered a live demonstration," Yarrow teased.
She shot him a playful glare. "I would've run."
Yarrow laughed, stretching his arms. "Alright, next stop—the market. We need food, daily supplies, and most importantly—cake."
Serena's eyes lit up, but then she suddenly snapped her fingers. "Wait! There's something else we need."
Yarrow raised a brow. "More cake?"
"Books."
He blinked. "Books?"
"You said last night you wanted to brush up on magic studies, right? So we need books with the right knowledge," Serena said, crossing her arms as if daring him to argue.
Yarrow scratched his head. "Fair point. Alright, textbooks first, cake later."
Their next stop was Alexandria's city library—the largest in the entire region.
The moment they stepped inside, Yarrow felt a rare moment of awe. The interior stretched upward in a grand spiral, floors upon floors stacked like the levels of an ancient tower. Rows of towering bookshelves lined every level, each color-coded for different subjects. At the very top, bathed in the ethereal glow of luminous fluorite, was an immense relief of the Creation—glistening, sacred, and imposing.
"Damn," Yarrow muttered, craning his neck. "This place is huge."
"There are signs," Serena pointed at the directory in the center of the hall. She studied it for a moment, then looked up. "Magic texts are on the fourth floor—red shelf section."
"You two go ahead. I'm going to take a little break," Zen announced, striding toward the plush sofas in the hall, her wings twitching slightly as she stretched.
Yarrow and Serena climbed the spiraling staircase to the fourth floor. The scent of ink and aged parchment surrounded them, mingling with the faintest trace of candle wax. The red-labeled bookshelves stood in neat rows, forming a maze of arcane knowledge.
"Alright, let's split up. We need two copies of Basics of Magic Element Reactions and Complete Collection of Elementary Spells," Serena instructed.
"Got it."
Yarrow wove through the towering shelves, fingers trailing along the spines of neatly arranged books. The soft rustling of pages and distant whispers created an atmosphere of quiet reverence.
"Basics of Magic Element Reactions… ah, found it."
Just as he reached for the book, his eyes landed on the one beside it.
A stark contrast to the orderly volumes around it, this book was different. The dark red cover was cracked with age, stained as if soaked in blood, and completely devoid of a title. It sat there ominously, as if waiting—daring someone to touch it.
A shiver of curiosity ran down Yarrow's spine.
Slowly, he pulled it from the shelf.
It was heavy, the weight pressing against his palms like something ancient, something forbidden. The only marking on the cover was a haunting sketch of a ram-headed demon, its eyes hollow yet somehow… watching.
His heart pounded.
This is it.
The classic setup. The kind of book that contained dark, forbidden knowledge. Maybe the moment he opened it, he'd hear whispers in his head. Maybe a demon would materialize, offering untold power in exchange for a wicked price.
He took a slow breath, fingers tightening around the cover.
And then—he opened it.
The first page was written in an elegant, ornate ancient script:
"This book has been marked as HARDCORE (official statement).""The content within is extreme. Reader discretion is advised. May cause dizziness, nausea, and emotional distress. If you proceed, you bear full responsibility. In case of discomfort, stop immediately and seek professional assistance."
Yarrow frowned. The hell is this?
His eyes scanned further.
"Forbidden Love: Dark Tales of a Demon and a Priest in the Confessional."Tags: Garden Play, Domination, Hypnotism, Impregnation, Older Lover, Non-Human Romance
Yarrow's brain short-circuited. His eyes flicked over the words again, desperately hoping he'd misread.
Nope.
His fingers trembled as he snapped the book shut, cheeks suddenly warm.
"You bastard…" he whispered under his breath.
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