Warmth Against His Back
Victor lay against the mattress, letting his muscles finally loosen. The room felt calm for the first time in hours—quiet enough that he could hear the faint hum of the chandelier overhead, soft enough that he could feel every slow rise and fall of his breath.
He rested on his side, eyes half-open, mind still drifting over the tangled mess of decisions waiting for him. Convincing his mother. Preparing for the competition. The other world. The hidden legacy.
He exhaled, long and steady.
His body began to sink deeper into the bed—
—then he felt it.
A gentle weight pressed against his back.
Warm. Soft.
So delicate it almost felt like a dream brushing against his skin.
His breath caught.
For a heartbeat he didn't move.
He let the sensation settle, melt into him.
Then—slowly—he turned.
