A buzz rang in her ears, and Mia Grant’s mind went blank.

She didn’t know if it was a drunken blackout or the effect of some drug.

Her memory of last night seemed to stop at... the bed.

She felt so hot and wanted some water.

She didn’t know who, despite seeing her state, had decided to wrap her up tightly in the blanket.

She was like a human burrito, struggling and rolling around on the bed.

Then, with a THUD, she rolled onto the floor...

In the haze, she only remembered peeling off the sweat-soaked gown that clung to her body.

And after that...

Mia Grant slapped her forehead in frustration.

She had no choice but to ask the System for help.

The System was silent for a long time before finally replying: [Apologies, Host. In situations like this, we usually fade to black. We can’t see anything.]

[However... before we faded to black, it seems the Host was the one taking the lead.]

"..."

Mia Grant closed her eyes, her heart filled with despair.

She wanted to run, but after looking all around, she couldn’t find her clothes from the night before.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she ran her hands through her messy curls in frustration and sighed softly.

"What are you looking for?"

A familiar voice came from behind her, slightly hoarse and filled with the languor of someone who had just woken up.

Mia Grant’s back stiffened. She slowly turned around and met a pair of smiling eyes.

The man was propped on one elbow, lying on his side as he watched her. His smile was both wicked and sweet. "Looking for something? I can help."

"..." Mia Grant’s cheeks burned as she shot him a fierce glare. "Where are my clothes? Where did you hide them?"

She hadn’t realized it until she opened her mouth, but the sound of her own voice startled even her.

’I don’t even want to imagine what happened last night.’

"Your clothes? Are you sure you still want to wear them?"

The man turned and picked up a crumpled heap of fabric.

Mia Grant took a closer look, and her vision went dark again.

Fearing she’d misunderstand and blame him, Yates Donovan shook out the wad of fabric and explained, "You did this yourself. It had nothing to do with me. When I came in, you’d already taken it..."

"Enough, enough!" Mia Grant didn’t dare listen to another word.

Yates Donovan raised an eyebrow, set the fabric aside, and leaned in close.

Caught off guard by his bright, dark eyes, Mia Grant’s breath hitched, and she instinctively turned her head away.

Her heart was still pounding, the frantic rhythm making her scalp tingle.

His hot breath caressed her cheek, sending an uncontrollable shiver through her body.

’Just one night, and it’s like my body has a new master.’

’His every breath seems to control the rhythm of my heart.’

In the past, she could maintain her composure at such a close distance. But now, he wasn’t doing anything, merely looking at her, and her body was already reacting strangely.

The heat searing her cheeks felt like a branding iron.

When he gently pulled back, it was like being plunged into ice water, a brief moment of release.

But the next moment, he suddenly leaned in again and planted a kiss on her cheek, followed by a contented sigh. "You were a little too enthusiastic yesterday. I prefer you like this."

"!" Mia Grant’s pupils constricted. It was as if she could hear the sizzle of a hot iron being plunged into ice water.

’That sizzling, crackling sound felt like it was about to make my brain explode.’

It was the first time Yates Donovan had ever seen someone blush so fast. He finally burst out laughing.

He fell back onto the bed, laughing like a mischievous kid who had just pulled off a successful prank.

Mia Grant was fuming and mortified. She clutched the blanket, sitting frozen in place, feeling so utterly passive for the first time in her life.

When no sound came from her, Yates Donovan stifled his laughter, only to see her glaring at him resentfully, her eyes red and welling up with angry tears.

Tsk.

’Okay, that’s playing dirty.’

"Alright, alright."

"You’re still so easy to tease."

He sat up, setting aside his playful mood. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, then threw back the covers and got out of bed.

Mia Grant quickly turned her head away.

"What’s there to hide from? It’s not like I’m wearing nothing at all."

Mia Grant chanced a look, only to find that he was only covered in the most essential places.

Her eyes widened. "You!"

Yates Donovan picked up a nearby bathrobe, threw it on, and casually tied the belt in a messy knot. "Yup. I’m a jerk."

"..."

He’d stolen her line, leaving Mia Grant speechless. All she could do was glare at him.

The man was still smiling, but he kept his hands busy, pouring her a glass of water and handing it over.

Mia Grant’s mouth was parched, so she didn’t bother with modesty. She took the glass and drank in small sips.

Catching his retreating figure in her peripheral vision, she put down the cup and coughed urgently. "You... COUGH, COUGH... Where are you going?"

Yates Donovan didn’t look back as he pushed the door open and left, his voice floating back, "To get something from outside."

Not long after, just as she finished the glass of water, the bedroom door opened again. Yates Donovan came back in, this time holding two shopping bags.

He stopped by the bed, pulled a stack of clothes from one of the bags, and shook them out one by one.

"A top," he said, handing it to her.

Mia Grant looked at it—a women’s sweater, with a camisole to wear underneath.

She took it without a fuss. Then she saw him shake out a pair of pants.

It was a style he apparently couldn’t comprehend. He poked at a rip in the jeans and frowned.

"What is this trash? Just wait a bit. I’ll have them go buy you a pair that doesn’t have holes in it."

Mia Grant snatched them away.

"These are fine."

"Not worried you’ll get arthritis?" he asked, standing by the bed with his head tilted, a perfectly straight face on.

"None of your business!"

"But it is my business to take care of you. If your legs hurt when you’re old and you can’t walk, who else is going to carry you on their back but me?"

The corner of Mia Grant’s mouth twitched. She let out a dry laugh. "I wouldn’t want to trouble you. When I’m old, I’ll hire a rotating crew of male college students to carry me. A new one every day."

Yates Donovan laughed.

"I’d suggest you save a wish like that for your eightieth birthday. Because if you say it out loud now, there’s a good chance you’ll never get to see it happen in this lifetime."

With that, he casually grabbed something else from the bag and shook it open with a snap.

A pair of palm-sized, white, lace-trimmed, side-tie panties suddenly appeared in their line of sight.

Yates Donovan froze.

Snapping back to reality, Mia Grant scrambled over, snatched them away, and hid them under the blanket.

"You’re such a pervert! What’s so great about a pair of panties?!"

Snapping out of it, the man looked a little sheepish. He rubbed his nose and said quietly, "You’re right, they’re not that nice to look at."

Mia Grant was just about to silently praise him for finally acting like a decent human being and not teasing her when a casual comment floated down from above her. "Not as pretty as the ones you were wearing last night."

"I still prefer black lace."

Mia Grant froze for a moment. The next second, she shot upright and started pounding on him.

"Okay, okay, I’m leaving, I’m leaving."

Not wanting to provoke her further, Yates Donovan made a strategic retreat. "Hey, there should be a bra in the bag, too. I glanced at it just now, I think it’s a matching set with the panties, also whi—"

A remote control came flying at his face.

With his quick reflexes, Yates Donovan slammed the door shut with a BANG.

After changing her clothes, Mia Grant went into the bathroom to wash up.

The first thing she saw was a designer suit jacket draped over the sink.

She didn’t need to guess whose it was. With a frown, Mia Grant forcefully tossed the heavy, soaked jacket aside.

A conspicuous piece of fabric slid out of the jacket’s breast pocket.

It caught her completely by surprise.

Mia Grant froze, then reached out and pulled the fabric free.

Black.

Lace-trimmed.

Damp.

This... this was...?!