Today, it was finally her turn to serve Ilyas, and she felt a nervous excitement bubbling within her. Ilyas had changed so much since he returned from his long quest-he had grown into a more handsome, commanding figure. His quiet, stoic nature now seemed even more intimidating to her, and she found herself hesitating as she approached him. His silent presence filled the room, commanding it, making her feel small in comparison.
She entered Ilyas's quarters with a tray of refreshments, her heart racing. As she set the tray down, she tried to compose herself, but her hands trembled slightly.
Ilyas noticed her from his seat near the window. The sunlight filtered through, casting a sharp contrast between his dark curls and the stark stone walls. He looked up briefly, his expression unreadable, but his gaze lingered just a moment longer than usual.
"You have grown," he said simply, his tone flat but observant. He glanced at her from head to toe as if noticing her for the first time since his return.
Her heart skipped a beat. Did he just... compliment her? She felt her cheeks flush, warmth spreading over her face as she tried to steady herself. This was a reaction she wasn't prepared for. Her hands trembled slightly, and before she knew it, her knees gave way, and she stumbled to the ground in front of him, her face burning with embarrassment.
Ilyas, ever composed, barely reacted. He was quite accustomed to such reactions. Many girls had fallen for him, unable to resist his charm and striking looks.
It wasn't unusual for women to behave this way around him-he had seen it before, countless times, but it never moved him. It was just another common occurrence, one he didn't indulge in.
He gave her a small nod, his eyes drifting back to the papers on his desk, as though dismissing the entire moment.
"Is this how you serve your master?" His voice was calm, cold even, but the words held weight. They sent a shiver down her spine, his authority undeniable.
She quickly rose to her feet, her cheeks burning from both embarrassment and something else she didn't dare name. "Forgive me, master," she whispered, her voice trembling.
"You have grown," he repeated, his voice softer now, "But you act like a child."
Ilyas's eyes flickered over her once more, his expression never wavering, but she could feel the intensity behind that gaze.
"You needn't be so flustered," he said quietly, his voice holding its usual distant tone. "Rise."
The words, spoken with such authority yet lacking warmth, sent a chill through her. She quickly gathered herself, pushing up from the floor.
Her cheeks still burned, but Ilyas had already shifted his focus elsewhere. It was as if her blush, her nervous energy, meant nothing to him. He remained as cold and composed as ever.
For a moment, she wished he had reacted differently-had shown some sign of emotion. But that was not Ilyas. He was always in control, his face a mask of calm, no matter what happened around him.
She felt an overwhelming urge to impress him. "I will do my best to serve you, Master Ilyas," she said earnestly.
"Good," he replied, "I look forward to it."
She busied herself with her tasks. Every glance from Ilyas made her blush anew, but she was determined to prove herself. Serving him was both an honor and a trial, and she was eager to live up to his expectations.
As she worked, she couldn't help but steal glances at Ilyas, marveling at how much he had changed. He had become a man of great presence and strength, and she found herself drawn to him even more. Her crush on him had only deepened, and his compliment had given her a glimmer of hope that perhaps he noticed her too.
Despite her nervousness, she felt a sense of pride in being able to serve him. The day passed with her heart full of admiration for Ilyas and a renewed determination to be worthy of his notice.
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