Chapter 135: The Mosaic

Her voice carried genuine curiosity.

Not judgment.

Only that delightful sense of wonder that comes from discovering someone is even more complex than you first believed.

She continued exploring, guided as much by her curiosity as by the uniquely soothing atmosphere that filled the house.

The room gradually opened into a vast space bathed in soft light.

At its center stretched an indoor swimming pool whose perfectly still surface looked less like water than an immense sheet of crystal. Hidden lights embedded in the walls cast delicate blue reflections across it, sending hypnotic ripples dancing over the ceiling until it felt as though the entire house breathed in rhythm with the water.

An elegant glass walkway crossed the pool in a single uninterrupted span.

Blanche stepped onto it cautiously.

Beneath her feet, she could make out the turquoise hues of the pool's floor, where iridescent mosaics evoked the scales of a dragon. Walking above such perfectly clear water gave her the strange sensation of floating, as though she were suspended between two worlds.

From where she stood, she could take in nearly the entire room at a glance.

To her right, an open kitchen crafted from solid mahogany radiated warmth. The dark, satin-smooth wood seemed to have been polished for decades, its deep grain catching the light with understated elegance. The spacious central island remained completely uncluttered, contrasting beautifully with the discreetly integrated modern appliances that never disrupted the room's natural refinement.

Beyond it, enormous glass walls disappeared entirely into the structure, opening onto a lush patio.

Though winter ruled outside, this secluded space seemed to belong to another season altogether.

Towering ferns, bamboo, graceful maple trees, and meticulously tended greenery surrounded a small pond where a stone fountain sang softly. The air itself felt purer—almost humid—filled with the calming fragrance of fresh vegetation.

To the left, the dining room extended that same sense of balance.

An enormous travertine table occupied the center of the room. Its pale stone, streaked with natural honey-colored veins, looked as though it had been carved from a single block. Around it, understated ivory leather chairs invited long conversations far more than formal dinners.

Nothing sought to impress.

And yet...

Everything spoke of taste.

Restraint.

Harmony.

Every material complemented another. Every color seemed chosen to enhance the next, as though the entire house had been designed not to display wealth, but to offer peace.

Blanche continued slowly toward the far end of the room.

Past a glass-walled rinse shower and a large whirlpool whose water still steamed gently, her gaze was suddenly drawn to an entire wall covered by a monumental fresco.

She stopped in her tracks.

It was a mosaic.

Thousands upon thousands of tiny tesserae, perfectly fitted together, formed a scene of breathtaking delicacy. As the light shifted, certain stones seemed to glow from within, breathing life into the artwork.

At its center stood a young woman.

She wore a long green gown whose folds appeared to ripple beneath an invisible breeze, blending dozens of shades of emerald, jade, and moss. Her snow-white hair cascaded to her hips like a veil of fresh snow, while two brilliant crimson eyes—almost supernaturally vivid—gazed with infinite tenderness upon the being she cradled in her arms.

She held an egg.

Massive.

Covered in metallic-blue scales whose shimmering reflections recalled the stormy sky just before nightfall.

She pressed it gently against her heart.

Not as though it were a treasure.

But as though it were her child.

Around her rose a majestic forest of pine trees. Their dark trunks were carpeted in moss, bathed in golden sunlight filtering through the needles overhead. Several Drakions soared across the scene in shades of sapphire, emerald, and ruby, naturally drawing the eye toward the egg, the gown, and the woman's eyes. Wildflowers and ferns carpeted the forest floor, each leaf recreated with almost impossible precision.

The entire work radiated such profound serenity that Blanche nearly forgot to breathe.

This fresco was far more than decoration.

It felt like a memory.

A tribute.

Or perhaps...

A silent prayer preserved in stone for centuries.

"I've always preferred you with white hair... though red suits you too."

Blanche jumped.

"...That's... me?"

Saphir nodded without taking his eyes off the mosaic.

"In your Drakon form, that's how you first appeared to me."

Then she understood.

"The egg... it was yours?"

He slowly nodded, an infinitely gentle smile illuminating his features.

Without another word, he walked toward her.

He had taken the time to change.

The Drakion had traded his towel for loose, deep-turquoise linen trousers whose relaxed cut flowed naturally with every movement, along with a lightweight white shirt whose top buttons had been casually left undone. His sleeves were rolled to his forearms, revealing sun-kissed skin where a few forgotten droplets still clung, while he crossed the wooden floor barefoot with that silent, impossibly fluid gait that seemed unique to winged beings.

Everything about him radiated effortless elegance.

Never cultivated.

Never forced.

As though grace were simply part of his very existence.

When he reached her, he opened his arms with disarming naturalness.

Blanche stepped into them almost immediately.

Saphir slowly wrapped his embrace around her, never squeezing too tightly, as though he feared startling her with his own strength. He held her with infinite gentleness, his arms forming a warm refuge where the outside world suddenly ceased to exist.

Without thinking, Blanche rested her head against his chest.

Beneath her cheek, she felt the light fabric of his still-warm shirt.

Then the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

It was astonishingly calm.

Deep.

So constant that, little by little, her own heart began to match its cadence.

Saphir lowered his head slightly.

His jaw came to rest with infinite tenderness atop her still-braided hair as he closed his eyes.

For several long seconds...

Neither of them moved.

Their breathing gradually synchronized.

Each inhale and exhale rose and fell almost in perfect unison, creating the strange impression that their bodies had instinctively found the same rhythm, like two instruments perfectly tuned to the same note.

Blanche felt every ounce of tension she'd accumulated over the past several days slowly melt from her shoulders.

Her muscles relaxed.

So did her neck.

Even the dull headache that had lingered since morning seemed to retreat.

Until that moment, she had never truly understood this man's strength.

Now she discovered it in an entirely different way.

Not through the power of his arms.

But through their gentleness.

Through his ability to banish every worry simply by being there—to surround her without ever confining her, to offer her a sanctuary where she could finally stop being on guard.

It felt like taking shelter beneath a dragon's wings.

Immense.

Invincible.

And yet infinitely kind.

A deep sigh of contentment escaped her before she even realized it.

In response, a low vibration rumbled beneath her cheek.

Saphir was purring again.