CHAPTER 150: YOU HAVE BEAUTIFUL CURVES.

For a moment, Eduard thought his heart had stopped.

The threat hung in the air like a blade suspended by a thread—and Damon, standing there, just inches from him, seemed capable of cutting him at any moment without breaking a breath.

The nobleman trembled so much that his teeth chattered.

Damon, on the other hand, was motionless.

Frighteningly motionless.

As if sculpted there, a figure of shadow, precision, and deadly intent.

He lowered his head slightly, tilting it to the side, like someone analyzing prey not worth the effort—but who will still be punished.

"I could break you right here..." his voice wasn’t loud, but each syllable seemed to vibrate inside Eduard’s chest, "and no one would notice before dawn."

Eduard stifled a groan.

Damon moved even closer, until the noble boy cowered against the bed, with no room to escape.

A gloved hand landed on the mattress, inches from Eduard’s ear, trapping him there.

"You know what’s funny?" Damon whispered. "The courage you DON’T have."

Damon’s free hand touched Eduard’s face...

Lightly.

Delicately.

The kind of touch that only made things worse.

Eduard held his breath.

"That fear of yours..." Damon continued, dragging his fingertips across the nobleman’s cheek, "is so intense it hurts. You reek of panic."

He pulled the boy’s face up, forcing him to look at him directly.

"You really think... I need to touch you to destroy you?"

Eduard tried to stammer something, but nothing came out.

"I don’t need to." Damon continued. "All I need is this."

He snapped his fingers.

A dry, simple sound.

And Eduard almost fell to the side, feeling his legs completely give way.

Damon took a step back—a single step—and the pressure in the room seemed to lessen.

"Now listen carefully." His voice hardened, chilling the air. "It’s not your body that interests me. It’s your fears. That’s what you understand. That’s what will keep you in line."

Eduard sobbed, his hand over his mouth, trying to stifle the trembling.

"If you open your mouth about me... about her... or about anything involving my name..." Damon raised his index finger, "I’ll make sure that every night you wake up thinking I’m standing next to your bed."

His eyes, behind the mask, gleamed with something cold and merciless.

"And one night... I will be."

Eduard let out a short, desperate cry, muffling his mouth with his hands. Tears streamed uncontrollably.

Damon turned his back slowly, walking to the window.

Before jumping, he stopped.

He turned his face slightly, just enough for Eduard to see the gleam in his eyes.

"You won’t lose your eyes, Eduard."

The heir barely dared to breathe.

Damon’s smile—even hidden by the mask—was perceptible in his voice.

"You’ll lose something worse."

His shadow disappeared through the window.

And Eduard fell to his knees, trembling uncontrollably, with the absolute certainty that...

Damon was still there.

Watching.

Somewhere in the darkness.

The night was silent when Damon landed on the windowsill, exactly as he had done before. He was already on the urge to enter—quick, precise, silent—when he realized too late that the bedroom lights were on.

And that Morgana was...

...right in the middle of the room.

With absolutely nothing covering her body.

The world froze.

She turned the moment he entered.

"AH—!!"

Damon reacted purely on instinct. In a single step, he crossed the distance and covered her mouth with his hand before the full scream escaped.

"Shhh! Shhh!" he whispered, in genuine panic, more desperate than she was. "Sorry! Sorry! But if they find out I’m here I’m in REAL trouble, so calm down, calm down!"

Morgana was still trying to scream behind his hand, but now it was more indignation than fright. Her eyes were wide, her face flushed to the core.

"I’ll turn around! I’ll turn around!" Damon said, almost stumbling over his words, as he turned his back so quickly he almost fell.

He kept his hand extended behind him, still covering her mouth, but now staring intently at the wall.

"I’m sorry, seriously. I didn’t know you... were... like this."

He swallowed hard.

"I didn’t see anything. I mean, I didn’t see properly. I mean, I— Just pretend I’m blind, okay?"

Morgana slapped his hand away, pushing it away from his mouth.

"YOU INVADE MY ROOM AND—"

She reminded him he was right: if anyone heard, Damon would be in trouble.

She closed her mouth. Rapid breathing. Evident anger.

"Turn. Your. Back." she whispered in pure venom.

"I’m in!" Damon replied, hands raised above his head, a posture of total surrender.

Behind him, he heard the hurried sound of drawers being opened, fabric being pulled, quick footsteps... and some crude grumbles that he thought best not to comment on.

After a few eternal seconds:

"You can look now." Her voice was still sharp, but at least it didn’t sound like it was about to kill him.

He turned slowly.

Morgana was now wearing a short silk nightgown, her arms crossed over her chest and her foot tapping the floor with almost comical irritation—if it weren’t for the fact that Damon had literally invaded her room at the worst possible moment.

"I... again, sorry. Really," he said, raising his hands.

"You have a terrible habit of coming in through the window, you know?" she retorted, still blushing. "And the SAME window, Damon. The same one. Didn’t you think that... I don’t know... someone might be...?" "Naked?" Morgana blushed even harder.

"Yeah, I thought so. But I was wrong. I’m sorry."

She huffed, running a hand through her hair, taking a deep breath to compose herself.

"Okay... okay. What did you come here for this time? Not that I’m happy, but... since you showed up..." she stared directly into his eyes, serious. "Something happened, didn’t it?"

Damon finally relaxed his shoulders.

"Yes. And it’s about Eduard."

Her face immediately lost the blush of embarrassment and became serious.

"What did you do?"

"I just made it clear to him what happens if he keeps making things up about me... or about you."

"Damon..." she put her hand to her forehead. "Don’t tell me you—"

He raised a hand, cutting her off.

"Nothing physical," he said. "Just... I scared him enough to shut him up." Morgana bit her lip, assessing the situation.

"You really think that’s going to hold him back?"

"Absolutely," Damon replied confidently. "If he says my name out loud now, he might faint."

Morgana let out a long sigh.

Then, she crossed her arms again.

"And next time you come to talk to me..." She stared at the window, then looked back at him.

"KNOCK ON THE DOOR."

Damon raised an eyebrow.

"And risk someone seeing?"

"Then..." she pointed to the window, "warn them before you come in!"

"Shouting from outside?"

She huffed.

"I don’t know! Throw a rock at the window! Make some noise! Anything! Just... don’t just come in like that!"

He smiled slightly.

"Okay. I’ll let them know."

She took a deep breath, trying to hide the embarrassment that still marked her face.

Damon then took a step toward the window.

"I’ll be back when I have more news."

Morgana, still with a flushed face, murmured:

"Next time... try not to see me... like this."

Damon hesitated for a moment.

And smiled—a small, sincere smile.

"I promise. Although I quite liked what I saw."

The air seemed to freeze.

Damon’s words hung there, floating between them, heavy, warm, impossible to ignore.

Morgana opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again—no sound came out. Her face was already flushed before. Now, it looked like it was about to burst into flames.

"Y-you... liked it...?" she managed to say, her voice faltering mid-way.

Damon leaned his shoulder against the windowsill, relaxed, clearly amused by her reaction.

"I’m not going to lie to you," she said, with that crooked smile that always threw her off balance. "I liked it a lot."

Morgana brought both hands to her face, turning slightly to the side, as if that could hide her embarrassment.

"I shouldn’t... say that..."

"Why?" Damon took a step toward her, calm, confident, without losing his gentle tone. "I just complimented you. There’s nothing wrong with telling the truth."

She looked up at him—angry, but bright, nervous, but curious.

"Truth...?" she repeated, suspiciously. "And what ’truth’ would that be?"

Damon tilted his head, analyzing her calmly, as if he were appreciating a rare portrait.

"That you have beautiful curves."

Morgana froze.

Literally froze.

The silence that followed was so intense you could hear her own heart beating—and Damon probably heard it too, because a slow, satisfied smile appeared behind his mask.

She tried to regain control, crossing her arms tightly, as if that would protect her from the comment.

"You... talk too much..." she murmured, looking away.

"Only when it’s true." He came so close that she had to lift her chin to look at him. "It’s not my fault if you’re too beautiful not to be commented on."

"D-Damon..." Morgana took a step back, but the bed stopped her, causing her to lose her balance for a moment.

He automatically reached out, catching her by the waist before she fell.

They both froze.

His hand was still there.

Her eyes widened, surprised—and something else.

"C-can you... let me go?" she asked, her voice low, soft, almost an accidental whisper.

"I can," Damon replied calmly. "But only if you really want to."

She swallowed hard.

And didn’t answer.

Damon raised an eyebrow, genuinely interested.

"Do you want me to let go?"

Her silence... said everything but "yes."

Finally, she looked away, a blush spreading to her ears, to the nape of her neck.

"D-do whatever you want..." she murmured.

His smile deepened.

But, surprising her, Damon actually let her go.

"I don’t want to do anything you don’t want," he said, with the same gentle sincerity as before.

Morgana blinked, surprised—as if she expected another provocation, another approach. She didn’t expect... this. The consideration. The calmness. The respect mixed with flirting.

She opened her mouth.

Closed it.

Opened it.

"You... are annoying," she said, but without any force. "Very annoying."

"I know," Damon replied, giving a half-smile as he returned to the window. "But you look beautiful when you’re annoyed with me. It motivates me."

"D-Damon!" she protested, her hands flying back to her face.

He laughed—a low, warm sound that made her tremble inside.

Before jumping out the window, he paused for a second, glancing over his shoulder.

"Oh, and Morgana..."

She looked up.

"If you really want me to knock next time..." He pointed to the window.

"You’ll have to lock this. Otherwise... I’ll end up coming back in."

She grabbed a pillow and threw it at him.

Damon easily dodged it, laughing.

And he vanished into the night, leaving Morgana with a racing heart, a crumpled nightgown, and the absurd feeling that he had just turned her world upside down without even really touching her.