"…Sir," Sylene said quickly, trying to push it back, "I can contact you myself. Please don't give something this pricey—"
Melchior smiled.
Sylene smiled back, awkward and helpless.
And somehow… he couldn't refuse...
"You can use it to contact Sylene," Melchior said gently, "or that white fox, when they're not in Forschel."
"…Alright," Hilda said slowly. "Lord...Melchior."
She accepted it, still unsure, and glanced at Sylene once more before holding onto it.
The silence returned.
Sylene took a sip of the peach tea from Regina, trying to ground himself.
Then suddenly—
"Ah—! Sir, please wait!" Sylene panicked. "I have to return something to you!"
Before anyone could respond, he bolted upstairs.
Regulus watched the table with narrowed eyes, clearly judging his master.
This wasn't like him.
Sir Melchior was usually relaxed, even when facing formidable vampires—the king, influential nobles, political enemies who are dangerous...
Now, he looked… stiff.
