"Talia, does your foot still hurt?"

Marcus walked carefully, deliberately guiding a thin stream of Human Rock energy through his body while controlling each step. He moved slower than usual, placing his feet with unusual precision so her body would not bounce even slightly against his back.

"No... it doesn’t."

Talia shook her head, her voice soft and satisfied. Resting against him like this, wrapped securely in his warmth, filled her with a quiet sweetness she did not bother hiding.

"Marcus, it feels much better."

Her arms tightened around his neck as she leaned closer. Inevitably, her soft curves pressed more firmly against his back, sending faint distractions through his nerves. Whether intentional or not, the effect was impossible to ignore.

"Marcus..."

"Yeah?"

Their voices blended naturally into the intimate atmosphere. Passersby glanced at them openly, some curious, some envious, others openly jealous. A tall, athletic man carrying a breathtaking beauty on his back was difficult to overlook. Yet Marcus barely noticed the attention. He simply walked forward while they chatted about small memories and trivial campus stories, the mood relaxed and warm, until they finally arrived at Professor Tina’s residence.

He pressed the doorbell.

"Professor Tina."

A faint anticipation rose in his chest. The door opened almost immediately.

"Marcus, you’re here."

Her voice flowed out first, gentle and soothing like music played at dusk. It was clear she had been expecting them. Talia must have called ahead.

"Oh? You two..."

The door widened, and Professor Tina paused slightly when she saw Marcus carrying Talia on his back, Talia clinging comfortably to him as if it were the most natural position in the world.

"Marcus, what happened?"

"Aunt, I twisted my ankle," Talia answered quickly before Marcus could speak.

Marcus, however, had already fallen silent. Because he was staring.

Every time he saw Professor Tina, he felt the same quiet shock.

Her long black hair fell smoothly behind her shoulders, gathered loosely with a light blue hair wrap that gave her an effortless elegance. Her brows were slender like willow leaves, her eyes calm and gentle, carrying a depth that felt both intelligent and distant. Her features were exquisitely refined, delicate yet dignified, as if sculpted with deliberate care.

She possessed an ethereal beauty that seemed untouched by ordinary life. Her skin was pale and flawless, luminous like polished jade, and her slender figure carried a natural grace that made even simple movements appear elegant.

Today she wore light blue casual home clothing beneath a white apron tied neatly at her waist. The faint scent of cooking drifted from inside the apartment. She had clearly been in the kitchen.

The simple apron only emphasized her figure rather than hiding it. The soft fabric traced her slim waist and hinted gently at her mature curves, giving her the appearance of someone who had been quietly preparing a meal while waiting for loved ones to return home.

For a fleeting moment, Marcus felt as though he had stepped into a peaceful domestic scene meant for someone else’s life.

She looked like a wife welcoming her family back. The thought arrived so naturally that he almost startled himself.

Under the soft light, her light blue glasses completed the image perfectly. They added intelligence to her beauty, restraint to her charm, making her elegance feel even more refined and quietly captivating.

Even though he had seen her only three months ago, Marcus still felt stunned each time he met her again. Professor Tina truly deserved her reputation as Crestwood University’s number one beauty. Her charm was not loud or overwhelming. It was calm, dignified, and impossible to ignore once noticed.

"Twisted her ankle..."

Professor Tina adjusted her glasses thoughtfully, her expression puzzled. Talia had left the apartment that morning full of energy, cheerfully announcing she was going to find Marcus and drag him back for lunch.

Marcus had indeed come.

But how had an ankle injury happened in the meantime?

"Marcus, come in carefully."

She opened the door wider, allowing him to step inside.

"How could you be so careless?" she said gently to Talia, concern evident in her tone. With Talia’s dance training, balance and agility were practically second nature. She rarely stumbled, let alone injured herself.

"We fell playing basketball," Marcus explained when Professor Tina glanced toward him for clarification.

Talia immediately protested from his back, voice full of grievance. "Aunt, it’s Marcus’s fault. He made me twist it."

’Again my fault...’

Marcus sighed inwardly but offered no resistance.

"My fault," he admitted helplessly.

"Alright, Talia," he said softly, trying to sound firm. "Time to get down so Professor Tina can examine you."

"No. My foot hurts. Carry me to the bedroom."

Her arms tightened stubbornly around his neck as she began complaining to her aunt, listing her grievances one by one.

"Of course it’s his fault. I was clearly falling. I even shouted ’watch out,’ but he ignored me and chased the ball instead."

Marcus opened his mouth, then closed it again.

He had already accepted blame. Why was she still acting so wronged?

What he did not realize was that Talia had felt his reaction earlier. The moment Professor Tina opened the door, Marcus’s heartbeat had accelerated noticeably. She had felt the tension through his back, sensed the subtle change in his breathing.

And she did not like it. Jealousy lingered quietly beneath her complaints.

"I haven’t changed my shoes," Marcus said, glancing down awkwardly. "I can’t walk into the bedroom like this."

Professor Tina’s home was spacious and elegantly decorated. He remembered clearly that the bedroom floors were covered with soft red carpet. Walking across them with outdoor shoes felt wrong.

"Marcus, wait. Your slippers aren’t out yet."

Professor Tina turned quickly and disappeared into another room. She had assumed they would arrive closer to lunchtime and had not prepared them in advance.

The slippers she retrieved were not guest ones. They were his.

Talia had bought them during his first visit, insisting he should have something personal here. Since then, they had always been kept separately.

"Who needs slippers? Just go barefoot," Talia muttered.

Marcus suddenly noticed her own shoes were gone. Her delicate feet were already bare, as if she had prepared herself in advance to be carried inside.

Professor Tina returned and crouched gracefully, placing the slippers neatly before him before rising again to steady Talia from the side.

"Marcus, take her to the bedroom quickly," she said gently. "You must be tired from carrying her this long."

"Yeah."

Standing beside Professor Tina at such close distance made Marcus briefly dazed. A strange sense of pride rose in him. This elegant woman had personally brought out his slippers.

Few people ever entered her private space. Because of her complicated family situation, visitors were rare. During his university years, only Marcus and Talia came frequently enough to leave personal belongings behind.

Everyone else used anonymous guest slippers by the entrance.

He stepped into the bedroom and carefully placed Talia onto the bed.

"Professor Tina," Marcus said, still concerned, lifting Talia’s right foot gently. "There’s no visible injury, but she says it hurts badly. Could something be wrong internally?"

Before Professor Tina could respond, Talia waved her hand sharply.

"Marcus. Out."

He blinked. "Why?"

"Marcus, my aunt needs to treat me. Leave."

He remained standing there, confused and unwilling to move. He was genuinely worried and wanted to stay.

"Treating is treating," he said. "Why do I have to go?"

Talia sighed as if explaining something obvious to a hopeless child.

"The injury is on my foot. My aunt needs to remove my sock and roll up my pant leg. You’re a man. You can’t watch."

She shot him a firm glare.

"Get out. Don’t try to take advantage of me."

Marcus felt completely baffled.

He had already held her foot, massaged it, examined it repeatedly earlier. Now suddenly he was forbidden from even looking?

What kind of logic was that?

Staring at the stubborn vixen on the bed, Marcus found himself utterly speechless.