The closeness between them hummed with tension; neither dared to speak aloud.
When she finished, she lowered the towel and held it out to him, but he didn't take it.
"Wash it and return it tomorrow," he told her, reaching for another towel behind her.
"That will become one of your duties from now on."
Emilia nodded dumbly, gripping the towel so tightly that it crumpled in her hand, clenched like a fist.
Her heart was pounding loudly.
Lucas walked past her and began drying his hair, then dressed up, his movements slow and unhurried. His robe shifted slightly with each motion, revealing more of his lean torso.
"You will need more than a towel to knock me out, Emilia," he said without turning, catching the stiffness in her posture.
Emilia turned slowly to look at him again, breath caught in her throat.
She stared at him, stunned at first, but then, a look of concern slowly etched on her face.
Her eyes fixed on the fading blood stain near his collar.
