After the deep kiss, their breaths slowly steadied, but the heat lingered, warm on their lips, warm in their chests, warm in the air around them. Sophie gently brushed her fingers along Bruce's collarbone before pulling back just enough to compose herself.

The elevator door slid close then opened with a soft chime.

Bruce and Sophie stepped out together, the invisible thread between them still taut, still pulling.

Sophie gave him a sideways glance, her cheeks still rosy, her lips still carrying the faint shine of their kiss.

"I can't wait…" she whispered, her voice soft, filled with anticipation.

Bruce's response was immediate.

"Same," he said, low and warm, his gaze lingering on her lips again for a brief moment.

They walked forward, entering the pub area.

Just like six days ago, the place was alive.

Music thumped gently through the wooden floorboards. The smell of alcohol, warm food, and human energy filled the air.

Lights, soft blues, reds, and warm golds, played across dancing bodies and laughing groups. Glasses clinked. Someone laughed loudly. A group cheered at a drinking game happening in the corner.

The colors reflected beautifully in Sophie's eyes.

She looked at Bruce, smiling in that gentle yet confident way that made her seem softer than anyone else had ever known her to be.

"Care for a drink?" she asked.

Bruce shrugged lightly. "I don't mind."

He wasn't hungry, six days in the trial had been nothing for his constitution, but hunger and emptiness weren't the same thing. Something warm to drink wouldn't hurt.

And with Sophie sitting across from him… he'd drink anything.

They walked together through the crowd. As always, people noticed them. Some stared. Some whispered. Some froze completely, especially after seeing how close Sophie was leaning to Bruce, how their hands brushed occasionally, how their eyes kept drifting to each other like gravity itself was tilted.

But Bruce didn't care. Sophie didn't care.

They found an empty booth tucked slightly to the side, dim lighting overhead, enough privacy but still close to the lively atmosphere around them.

They sat facing each other.

Sophie crossed one leg over the other, leaning slightly forward, her elbows resting lightly on the table. The playful glow in her eyes returned, warm and irresistible.

Bruce leaned back comfortably, one arm draped casually along the top of the seat, but his gaze remained locked on her, steady, unwavering, drawn.

Even sitting across from each other, the heat between them didn't fade.

If anything, it grew.

The noise of the pub faded into the background. The lights reflected against the gloss of Sophie's lips. Bruce's expression softened by a fraction, enough to be noticeable only to her.

A warm tension hung between them, invisible but thick, romantic, heavy, electric.

Together, they waited for the waitress to arrive… But neither of them was thinking about drinks.

They were thinking about each other.

A waiter eventually approached their table, pen in hand, wearing a polite smile.

"What would you both like to drink?"

Sophie answered first, calm, elegant, confident. "I'll have a Frosted Berry Spark," she said. "Extra chilled."

Bruce glanced at her, amused. "Same for me."

The waiter nodded and walked off.

A few moments later, their drinks were brought, two tall glasses filled with glowing, icy-blue liquid, sparkling faintly under the pub lights.

Sophie took the first sip, closing her eyes briefly as the cool sweetness washed over her tongue. Bruce mirrored her, taking a slow sip as well.

Then they settled into a quiet, comfortable rhythm, leaning back, sharing glances, letting the warm tension float between them.

For the next few minutes, they talked, about nothing specific, yet everything meaningful.

Sophie told him about the first time she held a dagger as a child, how the weight felt heavier than her little hands expected.

With that they conversed about random things, it was fun, light, warm, personal. Bruce enjoyed every moment of the conversation.

But then, thinking of something, Bruce's expression shifted, subtle, darker, colder.

He lifted his glass, took a slow drink, and set it down carefully.

"Sophie," he said quietly.

She looked up immediately, sensing the change in his tone.

"Now that I've gotten enough money… it's time."

"Time for what?" she asked.

Bruce's jaw tightened, not with anger, but with resolve forged over years.

"To deal with my relatives," he said. "After I settle what they owe… after I clear the debts they dumped on my family… I'm going to make their lives a living hell."

Sophie's gaze sharpened, the light in her eyes turning colder, yet still warm toward him.

"They dared to poison me. They dared to poison my family. They dared to look at what my parents built like it belonged to them…" Bruce leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing. "They deserve a life worse than death."

A silence settled, but it wasn't heavy. It was intimate. Shared. A bond spoken quietly in darkness between two people who understood each other far too well.

Sophie slowly lifted her glass and took a sip, her lips curving into a small, chilling smile, beautiful, elegant, lethal.

"Leave it to me, Bruce," she whispered. "When I'm done with them, they'll beg for death."

She leaned forward slightly, her voice turning soft but sharp enough to cut steel.

"But such a merciful path to eternal rest…" she held his gaze with burning intensity, "won't be granted to them."

Bruce didn't flinch. He didn't question her. He didn't hesitate.

He simply nodded and took a slow sip of his drink.

"Good," he said.

Their hands brushed on the table. Not by accident. Not by chance.

But because both of them reached toward the other at the same time.

Sophie laced her fingers gently between his, her touch warm. Bruce let his thumb slide over the back of her hand, slow and deliberate.

The lights shimmering across the pub seemed to soften around them. The music faded into the background. The crowd became a blur.

....

A/N:

This Chapter is the start of the second Volume: World Domination Begins...

Enjoy...

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