Inside the throne room, a hush seemed to settle over the air like dust on velvet.
Adam walked in, flanked by Gwendolyn, her steady pace a silent rhythm beside him.
The carpet beneath their steps was deep red, stretched like a wound from the heavy doors to the foot of the throne. On either side stood ranks of female knights, their polished armor reflecting the dim chandelier glow.
Helmets concealed their expressions, but it wasn't hard to notice the tension rippling through them. Shoulders stiffened.
Gauntlets twitched. A subtle quake in their stances betrayed a reaction more instinctive than disciplined—as if his presence alone made something stir deep inside them.
Adam stopped just short of the stairs leading up to the throne. He raised his eyes.
And there she was.
A woman who looked like time had passed gently over her. Her beauty hadn't faded—it had only settled in, like warm sunlight over gold.
Her body carried curves that artists would kill to immortalize: a waist sculpted by the gods and a bust that could silence a room. Blond hair flowed like silk, catching faint flickers of light with every breath she took.
She sat in a high-backed throne, wrapped in a green dress that shimmered like leaves kissed by morning dew. A delicate crown rested above her brow, not so much an accessory as a declaration.
Adam tilted his head slightly.
"Queen got that classic fairytale filter on. What's next, a talking mirror and seven jealous duchesses?"
The woman didn't flinch.
Adam let his gaze roam, slow and deliberate.
"So… is this where you keep your royal secrets, or are we skipping to the dramatic gasps and hidden agendas part?"
Gwendolyn's heels clicked softly against the polished steps as she rose to the throne's platform, coming to a graceful halt beside the queen. The air around her shimmered faintly with tension, like silk drawn taut.
The queen was already standing, spine straight, chin lifted just enough to remind everyone of who she was. Her expression wore the calm pride of a ruler, but her eyes—those told a much different story. They lingered on Adam with a heat that etiquette couldn't quite smother.
"The summoned hero of Aphrodisia. A warrior from distant stars, called here by fate… or maybe by our desperation. We've longed for a savior to stand against the crisis. And here you are."
She moved a step closer, slowly, like a cat that had just spotted something worth playing with.
"My name is Queen Milfina Eldran. Sovereign of the Eldran Kingdom. It's been... far too long since I last laid eyes on a real man. A true one. Young. Untouched by our world. Fresh."
Adam gave a lazy half-smile, hands in his pockets like he was waiting for his Uber.
"Nice meeting you too, Queen Thirsty. I'm Adam Morningwood. Earth's finest export. Certified Grade-A human. Freshly microwaved for your magical convenience."
Gwendolyn leaned in close, her breath brushing softly against Milfina's ear. Whatever she whispered was met with a knowing smile, one that carried more warmth than mischief.
Milfina turned her eyes to Adam, the corners of her mouth still curved in quiet amusement.
"So... those were your conditions, Adam. I only hope I'm good enough not to get tossed aside. Even someone like me still dreams of holding a baby again. Strange, huh? Guess some things never age out."
Adam gave her a long, appreciative once-over, his voice dripping with irreverent sincerity.
"Okay, first off... you're not just good enough. You're top-tier, certified gorgeous. Like, I'd tattoo your name on my bicep and call it art. Second... thank you for saying yes. Means a lot. Really."
Milfina leaned in, her voice smooth and teasing, like silk brushing against skin, though the glint in her eye betrayed a very real seriousness behind the words.
"So tell me, Adam... when do you plan to bless us with the next generation? Sooner's always nicer, don't you think?"
Adam gave her a look that said 'Wow, straight to the point, huh?' He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes wandering upward like he was searching for answers on an invisible HUD floating above him.
"I'm gonna need a rain check on the whole 'savior of the gene pool' gig. First, I want to figure out what kind of hero I actually am. See what I can do. Stretch my legs, maybe throw a fireball or two. You know—starter zone stuff."
Milfina tilted her head, thoughtful, lips curving slightly as if already imagining how this "starter zone" phase would end.
Milfina's voice carried the kind of gentle authority that made it hard to argue with, like warm honey poured over firm bread.
"Then, let my daughter, Gwendolyn, guide you around. You can analyze your magic affinity at the guild hall and maybe pick up a few skills from the tutors there."
Gwendolyn's brows furrowed, and her voice lowered with the kind of tension that made the air feel thicker.
"But Mother… we can't just show him to the public like that. It's been ten years since any of us have even seen a man. If we parade him around, women are going to lose their minds. I mean… full-on frenzy. They'll tear him apart just to grab a lock of hair or the sweat off his skin."
Adam raised both hands like he was surrendering to the universe's weirdest police.
"I really hope you meant that as a figure of speech, because I left my 'survive a fangirl stampede' armor back home."
Milfina smiled slyly, her voice dripping with playful secrecy.
"Trust me, a hood and a wig can hide anything. A dash of subtlety, a pinch of mystery, and no one will suspect a thing."
Gwendolyn's eyes widened as a mischievous spark ignited in their depths.
Her lips parted slowly, a blush spreading warmly across her cheeks as her breathing quickened, captivated by a newfound thrill. All hints of innocence vanished, replaced entirely by tantalizing curiosity.
"Oh, but imagine the possibilities—some smoky eyeliner, soft blush... He'd look gorgeous in a cute skirt and a scandalously pretty top."
"Whoa there, Princess Fifty Shades of Strange! Pretty sure a simple, mysterious hood is already pushing my fashion limits. Let's keep the cross-dressing adventures in your imagination"
Gwendolyn moved closer, her steps light but steady, as if each one carried the weight of something unspoken. Her eyes didn't wander—they were fixed on Adam, a quiet fire flickering in them, soft but persistent.
"Come on, Adam. It's time you see more of this place. I'll show you around... just us. We'll take our time, stroll through the prettiest spots, no rush, no duties. Just you and me... hand in hand... like a proper date."
A breath caught in her throat as she finished, the kind that wasn't quite a sigh, but wasn't steady either.
Adam gave a small nod, dipping his head in a gesture both polite and teasingly formal.
"Guess that means the royal tour starts now—guided by none other than Princess Gwendolyn herself. Can't disappoint my date, can I?"
He held out his arm, not with flair, but with quiet confidence—an open invitation without a word. A gesture that said he was ready, that he trusted her to lead.
Gwendolyn slipped her hand around his arm, her fingers gentle, hesitant for a second, then settling with a delicate certainty. Her smile bloomed slow and soft, like a secret garden just beginning to open.