I, the slave boy, awaken with the most potent seed!!

His eyes quickly scanned her, and he realized she wasn't wearing the same clothes she had on when they arrived. Instead, she had changed into a green short gown, adorned with darker flowers that contrasted beautifully against the fabric.

'Damn,' he thought, trying to keep his focus but it was difficult. 'She looks incredible.' The way her breasts were subtly highlighted by the neckline, combined with the soft, floral pattern of the gown, made it both elegant and inviting.

But as his gaze subtly roamed, he caught sight of a small... 'Whats that? Slime?' It was barely noticeable, but his sharp eyes picked it up immediately.

For a moment, he debated whether or not to mention it. 'Should I tell her?' he thought. 'But then she might think I'm always staring at her body... which, well, I do, but she doesn't need to know that.' He decided to let it go, figuring it wasn't worth the potential awkwardness.

Cassandra, seemingly oblivious to his internal debate, turned her back to him and asked, "Zafron, could you help me with the zipper? It's being a bit stubborn today."

She glanced over her shoulder with a slight frown. "It was easier the last time I wore it, but now it's a little tricky."

Zafron stepped closer, 'Well, I can't blame the gown, it's probably because of how bountiful your melons are,' he thought, his mind betraying him as he gently tugged at the zipper.

His gaze drifted down to her ass which was perfectly accentuated by the snug fit of the dress. 'Wow,' he thought, almost chuckling to himself. 'That dress is definitely working overtime.'

'It's like the dress was tailor-made just to show off every curve.'

An idea crossed his mind. 'Why not scan her again?' he thought, curious to see if their compatibility had changed after their interactions.

'Calista, scan Cassandra again,' he said, hoping to see a difference, most likely an increase.

[Host Scan Complete]

Name: Cassandra Beaumont

Marital Status: Single

Compatibility: 28%

Zafron blinked, his hand momentarily pausing on the zipper. '28%?' he thought, confused. 'It was higher just a little while ago. What happened?'

'Can the compatibility status really change within just a few moments?' Zafron asked Castila, his curiosity piqued.

[Yes, compatibility depends on how much the host desires you at any given moment. It fluctuates over time] Calista responded.

His mind raced, trying to piece together what could have caused the drop. 'Did I say something wrong?' he wondered, replaying their conversation in his head.

But nothing came to mind. Cassandra's demeanor hadn't changed—she was still smiling, still playful, still as warm as she'd been earlier.

'Maybe it's something that happened while she was changing,' he mused, still puzzled. 'But what could have happened inside that would affect our compatibility?'

He tried to focus solely on the task, pulling the zipper up carefully, making sure not to catch any fabric. 'Just zip it up, Zafron,' he told himself, forcing his thoughts to stay professional. 'Don't let your mind wander.'

He finished zipping up her dress, stepping back to give her space.

Cassandra turned around, her smile as bright as ever, completely unaware of the turmoil in his mind. "Thanks again, Zafron. You're really saving me today."

"Well, that is what I'm here for." He responded and forced a smile in return, though his thoughts were still fixated on the sudden drop in compatibility. 'Maybe I'm overthinking this,' he told himself. 'She doesn't seem upset, so whatever caused the change can't be that serious.'

"It's already getting late. We should leave before it gets too dark," she said.

The cart flew on, carrying Zafron and Cassandra back to Beaumont's mansion. The evening sun cast long shadows across the bustling streets of Drakoria.

As their cart flew through the streets of Drakoria, Zafron found his gaze continually drawn to Cassandra.

While she animatedly described her latest escapade involving a visiting dignitary and a misplaced ferret, Zafron's mind wandered.

'She's truly captivating,' he mused silently. 'Especially at the lake.'

His eyes traced the curve of her smile, the glint in her eyes as she reached the punchline of her story.

He watched as she gestured expressively, her noble bearing softened by genuine enthusiasm.

'It's not just her physical beauty,' Zafron reflected. 'It's the way she's so intelligent. The way she can switch from discussing complex political topics to recounting absurd misadventures with equal passion.'

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Suddenly, a commotion from the street caught their attention. Several men darted past their cart, their faces etched with panic. Hot on their heels were figures clad in striking red and white uniforms.

Cassandra's demeanor shifted slightly, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "Ah, it seems we're witnessing a chase. Those men in front are likely gangsters, and the ones in uniform are the Enforcers."

Zafron tilted his head, silently prompting her to elaborate.

"The Enforcers are Drakoria's elite peacekeeping force," Cassandra explained, her knowledge of the city evident in her words. "They're tasked with maintaining order and apprehending criminals. Those uniforms of theirs are quite distinctive, aren't they? Red for the blood they're willing to shed in the line of duty, and white for the purity of their cause – or so the official story goes."

As the cart continued its journey, Cassandra's eyes followed the unfolding scene. "It's not uncommon to see such pursuits in certain parts of the city. Drakoria may be a place of wonder and opportunity, but it has its fair share of never-do-wells too."

Zafron nodded thoughtfully, absorbing the information as they left the excitement behind them.

As they arrived at Beaumont's mansion, Zafron prepared to take his leave. However, Cassandra turned to him with a warm smile.

"Why don't you join me for dinner, Zafron? I insist," she said, her tone leaving little room for argument.

"Of course," Zafron nodded, but his thoughts raced:

'Ah, the classic "I insist" from the employer. As if I could refuse. Besides, I'm her bodyguard. It's my solemn duty to protect her from... what? A surprise attack by the vicious roast chicken?

Oh, the perils of fine dining.'

'But who am I kidding? I'd guard her while she reads tax documents if she asked. Although that might actually be more dangerous - death by boredom is a real threat in noble circles.'

Keeping these amusing thoughts to himself, Zafron followed Cassandra to the dining room. There, an impressive spread awaited them on the elegantly set table; A golden-brown roasted pheasant, garnished with fresh herbs, steaming lobster tails with drawn butter and lots more.

As they took their seats, they started eating, Cassandra delicately cut into her pheasant and a fond smile playing on her lips as she started. "You know, Zafron, despite all the staff we had, my mother adored cooking. I'd often find her in the kitchen, flour on her nose, concocting some new recipe."

Zafron nodded attentively, his inner voice chiming in: 'Ah yes, the classic noble hobby. Nothing says 'I'm rich' quite like choosing to do the very thing you pay others to avoid.'

"Once," Cassandra continued, laughing softly, "I walked in on her attempting to make a soufflé. The kitchen looked like a war zone - egg shells everywhere, a dusting of sugar on every surface."

Cassandra sipped her wine before adding, "She was determined to master it, though. Said it was a matter of family honor at that point."

"Eventually, she did it," Cassandra said proudly. "Created the most perfect chocolate soufflé you've ever seen. Of course, by then, none of us could stand the sight of eggs for months."

Zafron with a smile, nodded and said, "Admirable perseverance."

Cassandra beamed, clearly pleased by his rare verbal contribution. "Indeed! Though I must admit, I never quite inherited her culinary passion. My talents lie... elsewhere."

'Like in beating up guys on the street?' Zafron's inner voice chuckled.

As they continued their meal, Zafron noticed a butler approaching Cassandra. The butler leaned in close, whispering something in her ear. Zafron took a sip of his wine, savoring the rich flavor as he chewed a tender piece of meat, his mind churning with curiosity.

'What's this now?' he thought. 'A secret message?'

Cassandra's brow furrowed slightly as she received the news. The butler presented her with a small, elegant card before discreetly withdrawing.

Cassandra sighed, her eyes scanning the card. She turned to Zafron, her expression was one of resignation. "It seems we have an engagement to prepare for, Zafron. We've been invited to a naming ceremony at the estate of Lord and Lady Pemberton in two days' time."

'A naming ceremony?' Zafron's inner voice quipped. He remembered a certain noble in Astoria throwing a party for his pet dog once that caused quite the buzz for weeks. 'I do hope it's for a person and not another exotic pet. The last thing Drakoria needs is another pampered parakeet named Sir Fluffles the Third.'

"The invitation is rather last-minute," Cassandra continued, "but given our families' long-standing relationship, declining isn't an option. We'll need to go shopping tomorrow to prepare. I'll require your presence, of course, both for the preparations and the event itself."

'Shopping and a party, all in one week?' Zafron's mental voice groaned. 'Truly, the life of a bodyguard is fraught with peril. Protect my lady from aggressive seamstresses and overzealous shop attendants. And the there's the partyyy"

Outwardly, Zafron simply nodded, "As you wish, my lady. It's really good to maintain good relationship between the two houses," he said, his tone as measured and calm as ever.

Cassandra smiled, apparently relieved by his easy acquiescence. "Excellent. We'll have to leave early tomorrow in order to avoid crowds in the afternoon!"

"I will be here as early as possible." Zafron said assuringly.

With that, they returned to their meal, the upcoming excursion and event adding a new layer of anticipation to the evening.

As the dinner came to an end, Zafron rose from his seat, preparing to take his leave.

"I should be heading home now, my lady," he said, his voice as steady as ever.

Cassandra's eyes lit up with a mischievous glint, she offered to accompany him once again.

As they traveled through the darkening streets of Drakoria, Zafron's mind began to race with thoughts of the impending shopping expedition:

The cart pulled up in front of Zafron's modest home. As he alighted, Cassandra called out, "Rest well, Zafron. Tomorrow, we shop!"

"Good night, my lady," he said, before turning towards his door.

With that in mind, he swung the door to the house open, hoping to meet Mara or Matilda.