Viashra

"You don't look like the type to handle books," she said with a mock pout, one finger tracing her lips as if deep in thought. "So what brings you to the library, young master?"

Her words were innocent enough, but the way she said them—like she was tasting each syllable—sent shivers down my spine.

I swallowed hard, trying to summon some semblance of composure. "I could ask you the same thing," I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended.

"Haha!" Her laughter was light, almost musical, but there was a sultry undertone to it. She took another step closer, her perfume wrapping around me like a trap.

Her breasts brushed against my arm ever so slightly, just enough to make my heart race and my fists clench.

Damn it. This wasn't fair.

Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and she leaned in, her lips hovering dangerously close to my ear.

"Careful, young master," she whispered, her breath warm against my skin. "If you keep looking at me like that, I might start thinking you have other intentions."

I froze, the heat rising to my face as her words sank in. Other intentions? Hell, she had no idea. My mind was already a battlefield of desires I barely had the strength to suppress.

Thud!

"You bastard!" A sudden bark echoed from behind, sharp enough to cut through the quiet air like a sword unsheathing.

"How dare you harass Lady Viashra?" The voice trembled with fury, laced with a hint of jealousy that couldn't be hidden.

What the hell? Harassment? Is this her plan? Lure me in with those honeyed glances and silken words, then throw me to the wolves?

If that's the case... well, congratulations, Lady Viashra. You've not only succeeded but ensnared me completely.

I turned to face the commotion just as a young man came charging towards us, his eyes almost spilling over with unshed tears, his face trembling like an overripe fruit about to burst.

His lips quivered with barely contained indignation, jealousy painting his every step.

"Lady Viashra, get away from that rogue!" he wailed, his voice cracking like dry firewood under pressure.

Wait a moment—did I misunderstand this situation? Wasn't she the one who had orchestrated this little drama, instructing the library guard to block my way?

Didn't she whisper her sweet accusations into the wind to frame me? Or… could the real mutt in this tale be—

"Greetings, Young Master Hithan!" The library guard's voice practically dripped servility, his back bending like a loyal dog wagging its tail before its master.

I inwardly groaned. Ah, so it's this idiot. I should've guessed. I looked at Viashra again, and—by the heavens—she was as radiant as the moon reflecting on still water.

"You there, servant! Are you blind? Can't you see that bastard harassing Lady Viashra? Why didn't you stop him?!" Hithan's shout pulled me from my trance.

His face was red with fury, his jaw trembling so hard it looked like he might bite off his own tongue.

The guard, ever the picture of silent mockery, darted his eyes toward Viashra before murmuring, "Isn't Lady Viashra the one sexually harassing him?"

But his lips never dared to form those words aloud. Instead, he bent further and muttered, "My deepest apologies, Young Master."

"Who said Young Master Aditya harassed me?"

Her slender hand slapped away Hithan's grasp with the kind of disdain one reserves for flicking a fly off their meal.

Her expression was a delicate blend of irritation and annoyance, her lips curling in a smirk that could have melted even the iciest cultivator's resolve.

Her gaze, piercing and as sharp as the tip of a spear, shot through Hithan, reducing him to nothing more than an annoying pest in her eyes.

I blinked in surprise. I stood there, a dumbfounded witness to the drama, blinking like a lost deer in a dense forest.

So, she isn't the type to throw herself at every rich heir who can wave their fan and boast of their cultivation. If she truly wanted to seduce someone, wouldn't she aim for a prodigy?

Someone who could tame divine beasts or at least cultivate past the first stage? Surely not someone like me—a man whose spiritual roots are as barren as the desert sands.

But then why… why does she treat me differently? Her gaze shifted back to me for a fleeting second, and my breath caught.

Her lashes, long and thick like butterfly wings, fluttered ever so slightly, and a faint smirk tugged at her lips—a smirk that could mean a thousand things, none of them innocent.

Hithan, the obnoxious fool that he was, seethed beside us, his face twisted in a cocktail of rage and disbelief. His eyes burned holes into me as if he could kill with a glare.

"Who the hell is she?" I asked the library guard, who looked at me like I had just crawled out from under a rock.

"You don't know her?" The guard's gaze traveled up and down my frame, a mix of mockery and disbelief on his face.

It felt like there was history between her and me—or, more accurately, the original owner of this body. My stomach churned, not with jealousy but with the unsettling burn of unresolved memories.

But who cares? He's dead anyway.

"Why are you smirking?" the guard asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

Damn it! I must've let my thoughts slip onto my face. Wiping the grin off quickly, I leaned closer, my voice dropping to a threatening whisper.

"Just tell me who she is, or I'll gather the Family council and accuse you of plotting a rebellion with the Yesi family to wipe out our family. Your choice."

The color drained from his face faster than wine from a broken jar. He gulped and stammered, "She's the daughter of Elder Marura, one of the Rosani family's high-ranking elders."

So, she wasn't just anyone. Being the daughter of a Rosani elder explained her confidence and the authority she wielded.

Yet, here she was, openly rejecting Hithan, who apparently lacked the common sense to take no for an answer.

"Young Master, could you leave me alone? I don't wish to speak with you," Viashra said, her voice dripping with irritation as she waved Hithan away.

Her dismissive gesture, her fingers flicking as if brushing away invisible specks of dust, was a spectacle in itself.

Hithan, however, didn't seem to know when to quit.

"Viashra, why are you acting like this? Don't tell me you like this bastard," Hithan spat, pointing at me as though I were some filthy animal that had wandered into the mansion.

You rat-faced idiot! I wanted to scream. Can't you just crawl back to whatever hole you came from and lick your wounds in peace?

What if she says no? Am I about to be rejected before Cupid even bothers to string his bow, let alone aim? The thought alone feels like walking barefoot into a pit of thorns.

My stomach twists itself into knots tighter than a miser clutching his last coin.

This is going to be awkward. No, scratch that—painfully, soul-crushingly awkward

And then, as if the universe wanted to make things even more chaotic, Viashra leaned into me, her shoulder brushing mine, her warm skin sending a jolt straight to my core.

Her voice was like honey dripping from her lips as she declared, "Yes! I like Young Master Aditya. So what?"

My mind short-circuited. My face must have turned as red as a monkey's butt, a mix of embarrassment and disbelief swirling inside me. Wait... did she just say she liked me?

Hehe... No, wait! She only said that to throw Hithan off. Even if she did like me, it wouldn't be me. She'd be pining for the original Aditya, not the imposter currently inhabiting his body.

Also, Why the hell was I acting like a lovesick fool? Me—the infamous tyrant of debauchery, a self-proclaimed master of conquest in my previous life.

Women had once lined up for the mere flicker of my gaze, and yet here I was, practically trembling at the sight of her. Something's off—

"You thieving bastard!" Hithan snarled, grabbing the collar of my robe, his face contorted in pure rage.

The bastard's face was twisted, veins bulging from his temples as if his head might explode any second.

"Let go," I muttered, my tone calm but laced with an undertone of menace.

But Hithan wasn't listening. He leaned closer, his spittle flying onto my face as he snarled, "You think you can just steal her from me? A useless worm like you—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Viashra's melodic laughter rang out, stopping everyone in their tracks.

It was the kind of laugh that could make even a divine beast pause and reconsider its existence—light, airy, yet dripping with mockery.

"Steal me? As if I'm some trinket in your collection." She stepped closer, her hips swaying in a way that seemed almost calculated to drive him insane.

Her long black hair shimmered under the sunlight, cascading like a river of silk down her back. "Let me be clear—I'm not interested in you. At all. Could you kindly leave us alone?"

The slap of her words was so loud I almost heard it echo.

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#R18warning: sexual content in Next chapter.