The house was quiet—eerily so. No footsteps echoing through the halls, no soft clinking of teacups or the ever-watchful presence of a certain butler. You’d waited for this rare moment of solitude, believing that even Barbatos was away on business at the castle.

With your door locked and heart pounding from anticipation, you sank into the mattress, letting your fingers slide beneath the sheets. Heat bloomed in your core as your imagination took over. You thought of graceful hands, cool and precise, the soft rasp of velvet gloves brushing your skin—Barbatos’s calm, elegant presence unraveling just for you.

Your breath hitched as you whispered his name, the fantasy overtaking you entirely.

Click.

The doorknob turned.

“Forgive the intrusion, MC, but I needed to—”

The door opened before you could react, and there he was. Barbatos, ever composed, stood in the doorway with a faintly puzzled look that quickly shifted to surprise.

Your eyes widened. “Barbatos?!”

He paused, gaze flicking to the tousled blankets, your flushed face, the unmistakable tension in your body. Then, silence.

His expression didn’t change—not at first. But there was a subtle shift: a flicker of curiosity behind his calm green eyes, the slightest tilt of his head.

“I see,” he said smoothly, his tone unreadable but far from disapproving. “I apologize. I didn’t realize you were… occupied.”

You fumbled for the sheets, mortified, but Barbatos didn’t look away. If anything, he stepped forward, voice softer now.

“I was going to ask if you’d like tea. But I suppose you’ve already found a way to warm yourself.”

A pause. Then the ghost of a smirk touched his lips.

“If it was my name you were whispering just now… you should know, MC—precision is everything. Next time, perhaps I could show you how I do it.”