After a while, Portia's smile was soft but knowing, a gesture that signaled it was time for me to rest before returning to the gardens. She gently urged me to take some time for myself, understanding the need for a brief respite. I nodded, grateful for her consideration, and retreated to my room, allowing my body and mind the space to recover.

When I eventually made my way back down, the familiar sights of the gardens greeted me, but what I hadn't expected was Naida waiting with Valerius. She sat leisurely with a glass of wine in hand, while Valerius appeared deep in thought, his usual charm hidden beneath a mask of curiosity. I had seen him around more than I had anticipated, but his presence no longer seemed so strange, especially with Naida beside him.

As I approached, Valerius looked up, offering me a subtle nod, his eyes giving an unspoken invitation to join them. His demeanor was composed, but there was a quiet, measured weight to him that intrigued me.

"Now, dear Sapphire," he began, his tone polite but laced with something more serious, "what can you tell me that you didn't tell me before?" He paused briefly, his gaze flickering to the empty wine glass beside him. "And I'm really sorry about that wine accident."

I couldn't help but chuckle, waving my hand dismissively as I took a seat. "Don't worry," I replied with a grin, the tension lifting. "I've had worse things on my clothes than some spilled wine."

Naida, always the warm and affectionate friend, draped an arm around my shoulders. Her touch was comforting, her smile as radiant as ever. "Sapphire here is the most humble woman you'll meet, Valerius," she teased, her tone playful but affectionate. "I suggest you keep being kind to her."

Valerius, ever the composed gentleman, gave a slight nod, his expression thoughtful as he glanced between us. There was a quiet chuckle that escaped him as he replied, "I'll take that advice, Naida. It's not often I meet someone with such quiet strength."

The words lingered in the air, soft but meaningful. The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard, though I masked my surprise with a simple smile. It seemed that Valerius, for all his charm and politeness, understood more than he let on. And for a fleeting moment, I wondered if there was more to him than just his surface facade.

The afternoon drifted slowly, its golden rays high in the sky, casting soft shadows that seemed to stretch lazily across the grounds. The conversation from earlier had wrapped up—talk of spells, of mysteries yet unsolved, and the work ahead of us. Asra and I had parted ways, each of us knowing the weight of what we had to do next. I made my way toward the garden's edge, ready for some solitude to gather my thoughts, when I heard a faint, almost imperceptible sniffle.

A ripple of unease crept over me. Without thinking, my body moved, my senses sharp as the air around me seemed to still. The soft sounds of the garden—the chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves—fell into a hushed silence, as if the world held its breath. I turned, my gaze steady beneath my blindfold, my six eyes flaring to life in the shadowed corners of my mind. The subtle hint of discomfort was palpable, but I suppressed the instinct to react too hastily.

"Julian, why are you hiding behind a cart?" I asked, my voice steady and laced with a hint of intrigue.

I approached slowly, with quiet steps that barely disturbed the ground beneath me. As I rounded the corner of the cart, I found him—Julian, the lanky doctor, crouched in an almost comical attempt at concealment. His eyes widened when he saw me, a rush of color flooding his face as he straightened himself, clearly startled.

"I—I wasn't spying," he stammered, his voice faltering in a way that made me raise an amused brow. "I swear I was just—uh—working."

I didn't respond immediately. Instead, I allowed the silence to stretch, a brief moment of weight and expectation hanging in the air between us. A faint smile tugged at the corner of my lips, the amusement barely visible beneath the blindfold.

I lifted my thumb just enough to push the fabric upward, revealing a single eye—my sapphire gaze sharp and unwavering. The vibrant hue of my iris seemed to glow with a cold light, its intensity cutting through the space between us like a blade. His face turned even paler, and I could practically feel the shock ripple through him as his gaze locked with mine.

His mouth parted, eyes wide, his words stuttering in an attempt to find a way out of his predicament. "You sure about that, darling?" I teased, my voice smooth, soft as velvet, but with a playful edge that made my meaning clear.

His expression shifted, caught somewhere between confusion and flustered guilt. It was an elegant display of vulnerability—something that made the air between us thicken, as if time itself had slowed down. His attempts to regain his composure were futile, his face flushed with embarrassment.

There was something in the way he tried to cover up his own unease that made this moment more than just playful—it was a brief glimpse into his true self, a crack in the façade he so carefully constructed. For a moment, I allowed myself the indulgence of watching him fumble, to savor the rare sight of him exposed in his discomfort.

The tension lingered for only a heartbeat, but it was enough for me to savor. Then, with a lighthearted chuckle, I stepped back, the playful glint in my eye softening. "I'm not angry, Julian," I said, the words almost a whisper now. "But do remember, I see more than you think."

He swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as if to clear the fog in his mind, still unsure of how to respond. But before he could muster another word, I turned, leaving him to his thoughts, a smile tugging at my lips as I walked away.