As soon as Yvette's words fell, Jeremiah opened his eyes. Yvette leaned in, her expression casual, while Jeremiah's eyes flickered with amusement. He gently pinched her chin, his breath warm on her face. His calm, deep eyes met hers as he murmured, "Aren't you even worried about me?"

Yvette smirked, licking her lips. She tilted his chin up, kissing him fiercely until his lips bled slightly. Pulling away, she grinned mischievously. "Next time, you won't get away with this."

Jeremiah chuckled, the sound deep in his chest. "Really? Then I'll pull this trick every day."

Yvette squeezed her fingers, glaring at him with exasperation. She felt he was improving at arguing. Seeing her upset, Jeremiah quickly sat up, knowing her anger was difficult to quell. He, however, felt full of energy, showing no sign of weakness.

He lifted the blanket, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder. Yvette tilted her head. "What method did you use? Your pulse was weak, almost imperceptible."

Jeremiah stroked her waist. "When I was younger, I visited Watwoz. My grandfather's friend, a master there, taught me a technique—a method to temporarily appear dead."

Yvette nodded, unsurprised. She'd guessed as much. Traditional Clusian boxing was profound; many masters possessed hidden skills. The existence of such a technique wasn't unexpected.

Jeremiah lowered his voice. "Have I been a good husband?"

Yvette smirked, narrowing her eyes. "What do you mean?"

Jeremiah nodded seriously, his eyes intense and playful, his voice charming. "I followed the rules. I obey my wife's commands, and follow and listen wherever she goes."

Yvette raised an eyebrow. "And?"

His hand, resting on her waist, moved slightly. "I've indulged your spending, understood you, tolerated your temper, and never fought back when you hit me."

He'd learned these rules from his friend Andrew, an internet expert, who claimed they ensured a girlfriend would never leave.

Yvette's gaze fell to his hand. "What are you doing with your hands? Do you want me to cut them off?"

Jeremiah froze, then deliberately slid his hand higher. Yvette's eyes sparkled; she clearly enjoyed the playful tension. In an instant, she straddled him.

His expression stiffened, then he adjusted, lifting her for comfort.

At one o'clock, as night deepened, Jeremiah pulled Yvette closer, handing her a glass of warm water. "Any other plans for your Mysonna trip?"

Yvette sipped slowly, her voice husky. She wore a loose white shirt; from Jeremiah's perspective, everything was visible. His throat tightened, his gaze deepening.

She got off him, staring at him. "It takes time."

Her phone rang. She picked it up without turning from Jeremiah. He saw a message from Sienna: "[Your design won an award; the dean wants to present it personally. She said she'd missed you for years and would love to see you. Should I set it up?]"

Yvette paused, twirling the phone. She raised her eyebrows and texted back, "[Sure.]"

Another message arrived: "[You finally said yes! Does that mean you're willing to show up? The fashion world awaits Vibe's face! I'm so excited.]"

Sienna's excitement was palpable.

Jeremiah's voice cut through. "Did you win an award?"

Yvette put down her phone, her expression calm. "Yeah, a small award. Convenient timing, as I'll be visiting a teacher in Mysonna."

Jeremiah nodded. He knew she was Vibe's mastermind, but her nonchalance seemed overly humble.

Meanwhile, in Mysonna, Sienna bounced on her bed, ecstatic. A low voice behind her said, "Come back to bed."

Sienna glanced at the man on the bed and pouted. 'Boyfriend or babysitter?' she thought.

She grumbled, though she knew better than to protest. With a sigh, she climbed back into bed, playfully kicking him. The kick was ineffective; her toe nearly broke.

The man looked at her pouting face and smiled softly, his gaze tender.

Back in Voraxia, early morning, Rodney paced outside Yvette's door. Jeremiah emerged, dressed casually in white, looking refreshed. Seeing Rodney, he cleared his throat. "What are you doing here?"

Rodney darted over, scanning Jeremiah. Seeing he seemed fine, he sighed in relief. Yvette wouldn't be angry.

"I wasn't trying to hurt you yesterday, Mr. Chavez," Rodney blurted, regretful.

Jeremiah observed him. Yesterday, he'd been ruthless with traitors; now, before Yvette, he was a teenage boy. His apology seemed more for Yvette than himself.

Jeremiah nodded calmly. "It's fine. I've always been in poor health. It's not your fault."

Rodney blinked, surprised. He'd expected rebuke, not reassurance. His guilt intensified. Jeremiah's kindness made him realize he should let go of his feelings for Yvette.

He looked at Jeremiah resolutely. "Mr. Chavez, I won't fight you for Yvette anymore, but if you ever mistreat her, I will. You might be sick and weak, but I'm still stronger than you. You won't defeat me."