Chapter 34: Sorry, I’d Sooner Believe I’m the First Emperor

Clara closed the bedroom door, the smile on her face gradually fading.

She let out a soft sigh and walked into the bathroom, turning on the hot water. She let the warm stream wash away the chill and exhaustion clinging to her body.

Amidst the rising steam, her thoughts drifted.

Although tonight’s events had unfolded according to her plan, Alistair’s reaction had been unexpected. His concern and fury seemed to exceed her calculations, even leaving her with a faint sense of unease.

"Perhaps I’m overthinking it," she whispered to herself, shaking her head to clear the intrusive thoughts.

After her shower, Clara changed into a soft nightgown and gently patted her damp hair with a towel.

She pushed open the bathroom door, preparing to grab the hairdryer, but suddenly froze.

Alistair Vance was sitting by the edge of her bed. He was wearing dark pajamas, and his hair was still slightly damp, clearly having just showered as well.

He held a book in his hand. Hearing the movement, he looked up, his gaze meeting hers with a calm intensity.

"Master Vance?" Clara’s voice was laced with surprise and a hint of panic. "What are you doing here?"

Alistair closed the book and set it casually on the nightstand, his tone indifferent. "I had Julian give me your spare key. He wasn't comfortable with you being alone, so he asked me to check on you."

Clara frowned, a flash of displeasure crossing her heart, though she kept her face composed. "Master Vance, I’m perfectly fine now. You didn't need to go to all this trouble."

Alistair stood up and walked toward her, looking down at her. "Clara, are you truly alright?"

His gaze was too deep, as if he could peer directly into her soul.

Clara instinctively averted her eyes, her voice soft and thin. "I’m really fine. I’m just a bit tired."

Alistair didn't say anything more. He simply reached out and gently took her wrist, leading her to sit on the edge of the bed.

His movements were tender, yet they possessed an undeniable authority.

"Sit down. I’ll help you dry your hair."

He picked up the hairdryer, his tone calm but brook no argument.

Clara was stunned for a moment, then shook her head. "No need, I can do it myself..."

"Don't move."

Alistair’s voice was low and steady, carrying the weight of a command.

Clara opened her mouth to protest but ultimately relented.

She sat on the edge of the bed, letting Alistair stand behind her. His long fingers gently toyed with her strands of hair as the warm air flowed from the dryer, brushing against her scalp and bringing a comfortable warmth.

Neither of them spoke; the only sound in the room was the hum of the hairdryer.

Clara’s heart felt conflicted. She hadn't expected Alistair to go this far. His movements were so gentle, as if he were handling a precious treasure, making her feel incredibly self-conscious.

"Master Vance, you really don't have to do this," she whispered, her voice hesitating.

Alistair’s hand paused for a fraction of a second before continuing to comb through her hair. His tone was steady. "Clara, you don't always have to be so strong. You can relax a little when you're with me."

Clara bit her lip and gave no answer.

Her mind was in disarray. Alistair’s attitude confused her. He was clearly a cold and forceful man; why was he being so gentle with her?

The humming of the dryer finally ceased. Alistair set it aside and lightly ran his fingers through her hair to ensure it was completely dry before withdrawing his hand.

"There," he said softly, his voice carrying a trace of tenderness that was hard to detect.

Clara stood up and turned to face him, her gaze complex. "Master Vance, thank you. But it's late; you should head back."

Alistair didn't move. His gaze remained fixed on her face, searching. "Clara, do you really intend to keep going on like this?"

Clara blinked, then forced a small smile. "Master Vance, I don't understand what you mean."

Alistair’s brow furrowed slightly, his voice dropping an octave. "You know exactly what I’m talking about. How do you plan to handle Lin Yao and the others?"

The smile faded from Clara’s face, and her gaze turned cold. "Master Vance, that is my business. I will handle it myself."

A flicker of displeasure flashed in Alistair’s eyes. He took a step forward, looking down at her. "Clara, you don't have to carry everything alone. I can help you."

Clara looked up to meet his eyes, her voice calm but distant. "Master Vance, you’ve helped me enough already. I don't want to owe you any more than I do."

Alistair’s frown deepened, his voice laced with suppressed fury. "Clara, what exactly are you afraid of? Why do you constantly reject my help?"

Clara’s heart gave a slight shudder. She instinctively took a step back, her voice light and thin. "Master Vance, I’m not afraid of anything. It’s just... our relationship. We shouldn't be getting this close."

A complex emotion flashed through Alistair’s eyes. He remained silent for a moment before suddenly reaching out to seize her wrist, pulling her toward him. "Clara, do you truly believe our relationship is just that of a brother’s sister and a brother’s friend?"

Clara’s heart rate spiked. She tried to wrench her hand away, but his grip was far too strong to break.

Her voice rose with a hint of panic. "Master Vance, let go of me..."

Alistair didn't release her. His gaze was locked onto her face, his voice low and raspy. "Clara, you know exactly how I feel about you. Why do you keep running away?"

Should she believe Alistair’s words, or would she sooner believe she was the First Emperor of China?

"Master Vance, please calm down..." she whispered, her voice carrying a note of plea.

A look of pain flashed in Alistair’s eyes. He released her hand and stepped back, his voice sounding exhausted. "Clara, what is it that you actually want?"

Clara lowered her head, her fingers tightly clutching the hem of her nightgown. Her voice was so quiet it was almost a breath. "Master Vance, I... I don't know."

"Then think it through."

Alistair released her hand and, with a look of restrained self-control, left her room.

Just then, her phone rang. She picked it up and saw "Julian" displayed on the screen.

She pressed answer, and Julian’s anxious voice came through: "Clara, where were you tonight? I called so many times and couldn't reach you. I was worried sick!"

Clara let out a soft sigh, her tone calm and gentle. "Sorry, my phone died and I didn't have a chance to tell you. I accidentally got locked in the dance studio and only just got out."

Julian’s voice carried a mix of scolding and concern. "How could you be so careless? It’s so cold in those studios. It’s dangerous to be stuck there alone! Next time, remember to bring a power bank. Don't make me worry like this."

Clara smiled, her voice light and tender. "I know. I'll be more careful next time. Don't worry, I'm fine."

Julian seemed like he wanted to say more, but he eventually just sighed. "Alright. Get some rest then. Don't push yourself too hard. I'll be back in a few days."