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The sound of rain splattering against the window sill filled the air. Asher turned on the light, and a warm glow enveloped the room, revealing Guinevere. She was wearing a black nightgown, her usual gentle smile completely gone. Her moist eyes seemed to be trembling with fear, and her delicate shoulders quivered slightly.
This vulnerable appearance ignited a protective instinct in Asher's heart. He patted her shoulder and softly said,
"It's alright, I'm here."
"Arthur..." Guinevere pressed her forehead against Asher's chest, her trembling hands gripping his arm tightly.
Feeling the girl's softness, Asher gently patted Guinevere's back and whispered, "What happened?" Asher found it hard to imagine what kind of difficulty the usually gentle Guinevere had encountered to make her run to a man's room late at night. As Asher's arm rested on Guinevere's shoulder, the girl's body, which had been slightly trembling with fear, slowly calmed down, but her voice still trembled: "There's a ghost in my room..."
Asher was stunned. "A ghost?" He knew such beings existed in this world, but they were different from the ghosts he knew. Previously, Vortigern, while imprisoned, had once awakened sleeping ghosts with his roars, but not long after, those ghosts fell back into slumber. It was clear that Morgan had dealt with them. After all, she was the goddess of death; dealing with mere ghosts would naturally be no problem for her. In fact, those ghosts probably saw her like mice seeing a cat. And now Morgan resided in the palace, so logically, ghosts should avoid it. How could a ghost possibly cause trouble in the palace?
Asher's gaze fell on Guinevere's face. That exquisite, captivating face showed genuine fear. Perhaps because of the fear, she hadn't even noticed her thin shoulder strap slipping down, revealing her fair skin. Asher covered Guinevere with the quilt, concealing her alluring body. He sat up from the bed, gazing at the girl. "Can you tell me exactly what happened now?"
"What did the ghost in your room look like?" Guinevere didn't speak, her eyes just flickered slightly, glistening tears welling up in her eyes. The fear in her beautiful eyes made him feel a pang of pity. After a moment, she gently shook her head, biting her lips. "I don't know what it looked like."
"You didn't see its face?" Asher couldn't help but ask, puzzled. "I couldn't see clearly... I don't know." Guinevere just shook her head, her arms wrapped tightly around Asher's waist, her graceful body completely pressing against him. "Arthur, I don't want to go back... I want to stay here, can I?" she asked, looking up at the end, her face still streaked with tears, making his heart flutter.
Asher could only nod gently. "You sleep first. Tell me in the morning when you're calm. I'll protect you." Guinevere looked up at the young man under the lamplight.
Although he was younger than her, his words were incredibly reassuring. Perhaps this was King Arthur...
She softly "hmm"-ed, clutching Asher's clothes, her perfect profile resting on his arm, and slowly closed her eyes.
Before long, Guinevere's steady breathing filled the room.
"What's going on?" Asher's mind was full of unanswered questions as he looked at Guinevere, who was clutching his clothes and sound asleep. Her chest, beneath her nightgown, gently rose and fell with her breathing, and her faintly visible cleavage made him want to explore.
Asher sighed from the bottom of his heart. "How am I supposed to sleep like this?!"
He gently pushed aside Guinevere's hand that was gripping his clothes, turned his back, and looked out the window. Only scattered raindrops hit the sill, and the darkness was profound. Listening to the pattering rain, Asher's agitated mood slowly calmed down. He'd ask Guinevere in detail tomorrow morning. But if Lily came over early again tomorrow, this would be really hard to explain...
Thinking about this, Asher felt a headache coming on. His relationship with Lily was already delicate, and if she saw this scene, it would probably be even harder to explain later. The fatigue accumulated throughout the day slowly swept over his brain. Asher turned off the light, his eyelids fluttering with drowsiness. Slowly, his eyelids were about to close. Just then, a shadow flickered past the window sill. Almost in that instant, Asher suddenly opened his eyes wide, staring intently outside the window. But the shadow had already disappeared.
"A hallucination?" Asher murmured to himself. As he thought this, Asher suddenly felt that the temperature in the room had unconsciously dropped significantly, and a chill seemed to permeate the air he inhaled. Asher held his breath. The power of the White Dragon's body surged instantly, and his Overdrive Mode activated in a flash.
His senses suddenly sharpened; everything around him registered completely in his ears.
Suddenly, a strange sound echoed in the darkness, a "creak, creak" like stepping on rotten wooden planks. The sound was very faint, but it couldn't escape Asher's ears in Overdrive Mode. "Damn it... It must be my imagination?" Asher cursed inwardly, only hoping that this was all just his imagination. But he hadn't misheard; there really were footsteps approaching, very light, almost imperceptibly so. "Creak... creak..." That thing had arrived from the rainy night. The window sill made a slight trembling sound. The shadow was trying to climb through the window!
Cold sweat unconsciously beaded on Asher's forehead.
Recalling Guinevere's words from earlier, and thinking of the ghosts he had seen before, cold sweat trickled down his back. It's okay... it's okay... I have the White Dragon's body. Even if it's not a complete White Dragon's body, I'm much stronger than ordinary people. I have Rune Magic, and Caliburn. It's okay, justice will prevail! Asher secretly narrowed his eyes to a slit, staring intently at the shadow that was gradually opening the window.
Logically, as someone with the White Dragon's body, his night vision should be very strong, but he couldn't see the shadow clearly. He couldn't make out what it was. It was almost like mist... Yes, mist. The shadow seemed to be enveloped in a haze, its face indistinct. The window opened, and a gust of wind, mixed with raindrops, poured into the room. The shadow, amidst the fluttering curtains, floated lightly down from the window sill.
"Plink..." Water droplets splashed on the ground. It approached silently. One step, two steps... Its footsteps were getting closer to the head of the bed. Dense, long hair extended from its back, dancing in the darkness, like countless water snakes gracefully swirling in the room. Finally, the footsteps stopped. The shadow had reached the head of Asher's bed!
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