Calm after the storm

"Now raise your head, slave," Damian commanded, his tone demanding as he wanted a clear view of Seraphine's face. Slowly, she lifted her head, her gaze meeting his. The novel had described Damian as a handsome man, but seeing him up close was a different experience altogether. His golden hair and piercing red eyes held a captivating allure, radiating an air of power and intensity.

"He is undeniably handsome, but his wretched personality really ruined it all," Seraphine thought to herself, a mixture of fascination and disappointment intertwining within her.

Damian's eyes carefully studied Seraphine's face, his gaze lingering on her features. He couldn't help but find her rather endearing, like an adorable brown kitten that had wandered into his path. However, his attention was also drawn to the redness on her cheek, a visible mark of his earlier slap.

Damian only intended to deliver a light reprimand, a slap meant to teach Seraphine a lesson without causing significant harm. But his immense strength, fueled by his anger, had overwhelmed him, resulting in a much harsher impact than he had intended.

"It seems I hit her too hard," Damian mused inwardly, a flicker of remorse crossing his mind before he regained his composed facade.

"Now kneel down. I have a few questions before we proceed with dinner," Damian instructed, motioning for Seraphine to assume a kneeling position. He retrieved a wooden chair and positioned himself in front of her, maintaining a slight distance between them.

"How old are you?" Damian inquired, his gaze fixed on her, a sense of authority emanating from his posture.

Caught off guard by the question, Seraphine relied on the assistance of Alice, her faithful AI companion. Sending a silent communication, she sought information about her body's age.

"Alice, do you have any knowledge about the age of this body?" Seraphine whispered within her mind, seeking guidance.

"After analyzing the body, it appears to be approximately fourteen years old," Alice responded, relaying the findings of her analysis.

Seraphine took a moment to absorb the information, contemplating how to answer Damian's question accurately. Though she lacked her own memories prior to transmigrating into this world, she had to adapt and navigate the circumstances before her.

"With respect, sir, My age is around fourteen years old," Seraphine responded, her voice steady and composed despite the uncertainty lingering within her.

"Fourteen years old? So, you're the same age as me," Damian remarked, a glimmer of recognition crossing his face as he processed Seraphine's response.

The atmosphere in the room grew more charged as Damian posed his final question. His intense gaze bore into Seraphine's eyes, searching for an understanding of his deepest aversions.

"Do you know what I despise the most?" Damian inquired, his voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and intensity.

Seraphine's mind raced, drawing from her knowledge of the original story. She understood Damian's disdain for those he deemed incompetent or failures. He had a reputation for punishing his servants and displaying a quick temper, often reacting harshly to any perceived shortcomings.

As she contemplated her answer, she carefully chose her words, aware of the consequences that her response could carry. She wanted to navigate this precarious situation with caution, hoping to strike a balance between honesty and diplomacy.

"Incompetence and failure, young master," she replied, her voice steady despite the underlying nerves. "You despise individuals who cannot meet your expectations and those who fail to fulfill their responsibilities."

Damian's piercing gaze remained fixed on her, his eyes searching for any signs of deceit or hesitation. A hint of intrigue flickered in his expression, his curiosity piqued by her understanding of his character.

"You are perceptive," he remarked, a trace of admiration coloring his voice. "I cannot tolerate incompetence or failure. Mediocrity has no place in my realm."

"To be honest, I expected you to be nothing more than a burdensome slave assigned to me by my father. However, it seems you possess some capabilities," Damian admitted, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Seraphine was uncertain whether this smile held any genuine warmth or if it was merely a fleeting gesture.

With a graceful motion, Damian rose from the chair and leaned closer to Seraphine. Gently, his hand cupped her chin, and he inspected the redness left by his previous slap.

"Does it hurt?" Damian asked, surprising Seraphine with his unexpected display of concern. She was taken aback, not anticipating such a momentary glimpse of remorse from him.

"I believe the young master may harbor a hint of regret within his heart," Alice interjected, providing Seraphine with insight into Damian's conflicted emotions.

"It does hurt a little, young master, but it is nothing significant. I can manage," Seraphine replied, her voice carrying a hint of discomfort as Damian's touch lingered on her chin. She felt a rush of embarrassment course through her, the proximity between them unnerving.

" This is too close… ," Seraphine thought, her mind racing with mixed emotions.

"It would be a waste if you were to bear any wounds or scratches on your face. I shall instruct the physician to attend to you later," Damian stated, surprising Seraphine with his unexpected concern.

"Thank you for your kindness, sir," Seraphine responded, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. She had not anticipated such consideration from the young master, and it sparked a flicker of hope within her even just a little bit.

However, just as the atmosphere seemed to settle, a loud growl erupted from Seraphine's stomach, breaking the fragile moment. She felt her face flush with embarrassment.

"Why does my stomach always choose the most inconvenient moments?" Seraphine lamented inwardly, her cheeks burning.

Amused by the unexpected interruption, Damian chuckled lightly and addressed her hunger.

"It seems you are quite hungry. Follow me; I will take you to the dining room," Damian commanded, indicating for her to rise from her kneeling position.

Seraphine complied, pushing aside her embarrassment and focusing on the present. She followed Damian as they left the room, their footsteps echoing through the corridors of the mansion. As they walked, Seraphine couldn't help but feel a mix of curiosity and trepidation about what awaited her in the dining room.