The house was quiet—too quiet. No distant chatter, no footsteps, not even the hum of the television. You were alone, or so you believed, wrapped in an odd mix of freedom and boredom that settled in like fog. You tried reading, gaming, pacing—nothing helped. Restlessness clung to you like a second skin.

Eventually, you found yourself stretched out on your bed, phone in hand, eyes skimming your messages until they landed on one name: Solomon.

The sorcerer. Smooth, clever, and entirely too charming for his own good. He always had that sly smile, the kind that made it impossible to tell whether he was flirting or scheming—or both. Your chats with him often danced on the edge of something unspoken, laced with humor and tension that neither of you had bothered to fully acknowledge… until now.

An idea bloomed in your mind, bold and electric. If you were going to suffer in silence, you might as well make someone else squirm with you. And who better than the immortal, ever-composed Solomon?

You rose and stood before the mirror, choosing something daring—something that wasn’t explicit, but absolutely not safe for innocent eyes. The kind of outfit and pose that blurred the line between playful and provocative. A tilt of the hips, a sultry look. Confident. Intimate.

Snap.

You attached the photo and let your fingers hover over the keyboard. Then you typed:

“A little magic to brighten your day. Or… curse it, depending on your self-control.”

Send.

The message was marked as read almost instantly. Typical. You waited. A few seconds passed. Then your phone buzzed again with a reply:

“You know, you really shouldn’t tempt a sorcerer. We’re dangerously good at giving people exactly what they ask for.”

And then:

“Where are you? Because I think it’s time we test your stamina—magically, of course.”

You let out a soft laugh, heart pounding. The boredom was gone, replaced by anticipation laced with a touch of mischief. Solomon had taken the bait—and as always, he was ready to turn the tables.