The morning mist clung to the air like the last traces of a lover's touch as Yarrow stepped outside, his bare chest kissed by the crisp dawn breeze. He stretched languidly, muscles tightening, flexing—each movement a silent boast of the discipline he had carved into his very being. He inhaled deeply, the air cool and sharp, filling his lungs with a sensation that was almost intoxicating.
"Nothing beats sleeping in my own bed," he murmured, his voice husky from sleep, a lazy smirk curling his lips.
The routine awaited him, as it did every day—grueling, relentless, an unyielding lover demanding his devotion. He tore down the stone path, the rhythmic pounding of his feet against the earth a song of discipline, of untamed drive. Five kilometers of punishing exertion, a hundred push-ups, a hundred sit-ups, a hundred squats—each repetition forging his body into something harder, sharper, a weapon wrapped in smooth, sun-kissed skin.
Two years of unrelenting effort had stripped away the frailty of his past life. He wasn't monstrous like the hulking warriors of this world, but his body was honed—lean, defined, packed with the kind of strength that whispered of quiet, simmering danger. The kind of body that made women pause, that made their gazes linger just a moment too long.
This was survival. This was power.
The door creaked open behind him.
Serena emerged, stretching with a languid grace, her cane an afterthought. A yawn parted her lips, and then—
Her gaze landed on him.
Her breath hitched.
Yarrow didn't stop. He let her look. He let her drink him in, the sweat glistening on his skin, dark strands of hair sticking to his forehead, each controlled movement accentuating the taut lines of his physique. He felt her eyes rake over him, hungry, hesitant, lingering on the way his muscles rippled and flexed with each push-up.
A flush crept up her neck, staining her cheeks a delicate pink. She turned away quickly, but he'd already caught it.
Interesting.
He stood, rolling his shoulders, his movements slow, deliberate.
"How old are you, Yarrow?" Her voice was casual, but there was something else beneath it—a curiosity she couldn't quite hide.
He glanced at her, one brow arching, his lips quirking with the ghost of a smirk.
"Twenty-one. Why?"
Serena exhaled, pressing a hand to her chest as if she'd just been granted some divine relief.
"Good," she murmured under her breath, then quickly added, "You look younger. If you hadn't said anything, I'd have guessed eighteen or nineteen."
Something flickered in Yarrow's gaze. The smirk vanished.
"Is that so?" His voice turned low, dangerous, his lips curling in something that wasn't quite a smile.
Serena tilted her head, watching him carefully. Had she touched a nerve?
Upstairs, a window slammed open, shattering the charged silence.
"Good morning! Wake up! Good morning!" Ji Xiaofei's voice rang out like a damn trumpet.
At breakfast, Zen slunk downstairs, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, her every movement laced with a feline lethargy.
Yarrow studied her. "Didn't sleep well?"
She scowled. "Tch. The bed wasn't made of gold and lined with rubies. Disgusting."
Yarrow chuckled, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. "Sorry, Princess, we ran out of royal accommodations."
Zen grabbed a piece of bread, biting into it with an irritated growl, before her sharp, inhuman eyes flickered across the table. "Where's the meat?"
Yarrow leaned in, voice smooth as silk. "You devoured it all last night."
Zen huffed, irritated. But before she could fire back, Yarrow spoke again—this time, his words slow, intentional.
"Oh? I heard there's a new lemon cream cake in the main city…"
Silence.
The air shifted.
Serena and Ji Xiaofei froze, their heads snapping toward him, eyes gleaming with naked, ravenous hunger. Even Zen—proud, untouchable Zen—twitched, her long ears perking ever so slightly.
"Cake?" Ji Xiaofei's voice was a breathless whisper of desperate longing.
"What's cake?" Tao Hu, still half-asleep, muttered, an egg dangling from her lips.
"Something even better than that apple pie from last night." Yarrow let the words roll off his tongue like a lover's promise.
Zen's pupils dilated. A shiver ran down her spine.
Oh, she was hooked.
Yarrow barely concealed his victorious smirk.
The plan was simple. The great and mighty Dragon King had a weakness, a sinful little indulgence that made her less of a god and more of a woman.
And Yarrow would exploit it. Mercilessly.
The throne of superiority would crumble. The mighty Dragon King would be reduced to nothing more than a pampered, indulgent, sweet-addicted house pet. And once her tastes were low enough, her will soft enough, it would be all too easy to wind her around his little finger.
Plan complete.
After tidying up and issuing a few final orders to Ji Xiaofei and Tao Hu, Yarrow stepped out into the morning light with Serena and Zen.
"This is the shopping list I put together last night," Serena said, handing him a parchment filled with meticulous script. "It includes the first batch of alchemy materials—everything we need to start."
Yarrow skimmed through it, his sharp gaze pausing on the total.
Twelve gold Lang.
He exhaled, relieved. "Not too bad."
With a hundred gold Lang stashed away, he could afford this without breaking a sweat.
"First, we'll get these, then take care of the rest. We're going to be out all day."
Serena quirked a brow. "The rest?"
"Yeah, food, daily supplies… and clothes." Yarrow shot her a sideways glance, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You're still wearing my pajamas, aren't you?"
Serena stiffened. A pink hue crept up her neck. "Th-then… thanks, I guess."
"You're welcome. Work hard and pay me back later."
Serena huffed. "You're insufferable."
Before she could complain further, a voice cut through the air.
"Yarrow! Long time no see!"
All three turned. A farm girl stood by a wooden fence, waving eagerly.
"Mary!" Yarrow's face lit up as he jogged over.
Serena's breath hitched. Did his eyes just sparkle?
She and Zen trailed behind, watching as Yarrow leaned against the fence, a lazy smile on his lips. The girl—Mary—mirrored him, her chin propped up in one hand, casual, comfortable.
"Why'd you take so long this time?" she teased, her voice warm, inviting. "Nearly a month away—what happened?"
"Ran into some… complications," Yarrow said, chuckling. "But look—I made it back in one piece."
Mary grinned. "That's good. You know, if adventuring ever gets too dangerous, there's always a place for you at the farm."
Serena stepped closer, giving Mary a once-over.
She was older—mid-twenties, maybe. Dark, sun-kissed skin, freckles dusting her cheeks, her auburn hair tied into two simple braids.
Not stunning. Not even particularly charming.
But Yarrow's enthusiasm was palpable. The way he leaned in, the way his smile never wavered—it was different.
Serena's eyes narrowed.
Was Yarrow… into her?
... hello readers, get your hands on more chapters on my patreon page; Seasay, it is at chapter 78