Morning light spilled into the penthouse suite like liquid gold, casting soft shadows across the marble floors. Elsa stirred under the silk sheets, slowly awakening to the scent of rich coffee and... bacon?
She blinked once. Twice. Then sat up quickly.
Chess Golding. Cooking?
She slipped out of bed, throwing on a robe, and padded barefoot toward the open-plan kitchen. What she saw stopped her in her tracks.
There he was. Shirtless. In grey joggers. Hair tousled from the night before, standing at the stove like some forbidden magazine cover of GQ: Cultivator Edition.
He turned, caught her watching, and grinned without shame.
"You're drooling," he said.
"I'm not," she shot back, wiping the corner of her mouth just in case.
Chess flipped the last strip of bacon onto a plate, then leaned against the counter like he owned every molecule of air between them. "Figured you needed a break. Eggs? Toast?"
"You cook now?" she raised an eyebrow.
"I survived mountain storms with nothing but tree bark and air," he deadpanned. "Making you breakfast is easy."
Elsa crossed the room and took a seat at the island. "What is this, a romantic interlude before you disappear into another shadow war?"
Chess's smile softened. "No more running."
They sat across from each other in a rare moment of peace. Between bites and playful jabs, the conversation dipped into vulnerable waters.
"I dreamt about you last night," Elsa murmured, her eyes not leaving his. "You were standing in fire. Calm. Like it belonged to you."
Chess didn't flinch. "It does."
She paused. "You scare me sometimes."
"You should," he said. "But I'd never hurt you."
And she believed him.
Later that day, they ventured out of the penthouse together—an unusual sight in Valemir, where Chess usually moved like a shadow and Elsa moved like a storm.
They arrived at Elaris Luxe's flagship tower, where a subtle hush rippled through the office as the power couple stepped in. Employees stole glances; the sight of Elsa Jefferson arm-in-arm with the elusive Chess Golding was gossip-fuel for weeks.
But the two were focused.
Elsa was reviewing a new luxury tech line for an upcoming launch.
Chess, on the other hand, was silently scanning the room—his senses never fully resting. Not with Kip Mandari's invisible influence growing in the shadows.
"I know you're bored," Elsa whispered as they stepped into her private suite.
"I'm trying to pretend I'm not," he whispered back. "But God, these meetings are spiritual torture."
She smirked. "Poor immortal warrior. Want me to kiss it better?"
Chess leaned close, lips brushing her ear. "Careful. You'll start something neither of us can finish in this glass tower."
The heat between them simmered. It was no longer a game of avoidance or denial—it was something real. Dangerous and divine.
As the sun began to set over Valemir, casting golden hues across glass towers, Chess and Elsa returned home.
But this time, it wasn't silence that greeted them.
It was music—soft jazz echoing from the in-wall speakers—and the scent of jasmine from the balcony garden. Elsa walked ahead, and for once, Chess followed—not because he had to, but because he wanted to.
"I used to think you were the enemy," Elsa said, pouring them both a glass of wine. "Now? I think you might be the only person who really sees me."
Chess accepted his glass and looked at her, fully and without armor.
"Elsa, you've always been fire. I was just the first person not afraid to burn."
She moved closer.
"No more secrets?" she asked, almost teasing.
He hesitated. "Just one."
Elsa narrowed her eyes. "What kind of secret?"
"The kind that doesn't change how I feel," he said. "But might change how you see me."
Her heart beat faster. "Try me."
But before he could speak, his communicator blinked.
A message from The Veil.
URGENT: Movement detected in Valemir's lower districts. Kip Mandari involved. Possible shadow merger.
Chess looked up. Their moment would have to wait.
He placed his glass down, his face unreadable.
"Business?" Elsa asked, her expression tightening.
"War," he replied. "But not the kind you think."
She stood too. "Then we fight together."
He looked at her, a storm and a queen in one.
"Side by side?" he asked.
Elsa stepped into him, cupped his cheek.
"No," she whispered. "Back to back."