Fifteen days later…

The white void had changed lightly… from the outside view it hadn’t changed at all as it was very subtle.

What was once an endless, sterile expanse of light now felt much… comfortable.

Small touches Gray had manifested over time remained: a low, comfortable divan near the throne, scattered cushions, and the easel that had become a permanent fixture.

The distance between them had continued to shrink without either acknowledging it aloud.

Over those fifteen days, Gray had sown his seeds with meticulous patience.

He continued being present, consistent, and gently attentive in ways that slowly chipped away at Isis’s divine armor.

He started complimenting her not as a goddess, but as a woman, quietly noticing small things.

How her voice softened slightly when she spoke about things she actually cared about. How her golden eyes looked less cold when she was lost in thought.

He began sharing more of himself too, not entirely dramatically, but naturally.

He told her quiet stories from his own life: the loneliness of his exile, the weight of expectations, and the rare moments of genuine connection he had found.

He spoke without asking for sympathy, only offering honesty in return for hers.

Most importantly, he created small, shared rituals.

Every few days he would read to her again, but now he chose passages about longing, about beauty in imperfection, about the quiet joy of simply being with someone.

When she mocked them, he would smile and say, “Even gods might enjoy a story sometimes.” And more often than not, she would listen until the end.

He learned when she liked silence and when she wanted conversation.

He learned the exact tilt of her head when she was pretending to be bored but was actually intrigued. He learned that she would sometimes glance at the painting he was working on when she thought he wasn’t looking.

And little by little, the proud goddess began to lower her guard in tiny, almost invisible ways.

She stopped calling him “mortal” quite so often.

She started using his name more.

She no longer sat rigidly on the throne when they spoke, she would sometimes lean forward, or rest her cheek on her hand while listening.

And today, the forty-seventh day inside the Dream World, marked a quiet but significant milestone.

Isis was no longer sitting on her throne…

…She was lying down, her head resting comfortably on Gray’s lap.

Her silver-white hair spilled across his thigh like liquid moonlight.

One of her hands rested lightly on her stomach, the other dangling off the edge of the divan.

Her golden eyes were half-closed, not in boredom, but in rare, peaceful relaxation as she gazed up at him.

Gray sat with his back against the manifested cushions, the easel positioned beside them.

His brush moved with slow strokes across the canvas… this was the twentieth time he had painted her.

The silence between them was comfortable now as now she had completely released the pressure incoming from her body.

Gray occasionally glanced down at her face, studying the curve of her cheek, the elegant line of her jaw, the way her lashes cast faint shadows.

His voice was low and calm as he worked.

“You look beautiful like this,” he murmured lighty, as if entranced by her beauty.

“Peaceful. It suits you more than the throne sometimes.”

Isis didn’t immediately retort with her usual superiority.

“Mhm…”

Instead, she let out a soft, almost inaudible hum.

Her golden eyes drifted up to meet his for a long moment.

“…You’ve become rather bold lately, Gray,” she said quietly.

There was no real bite in her tone anymore, if anything, there was a small tone that people would consider “warm”.

Gray smiled gently, dipping his brush again.

“Only because you allow it.”

Isis didn’t deny it.

She shifted her head slightly on his lap, getting more comfortable. Her fingers lightly brushed the fabric of his clothes as if testing the texture.

For several long minutes, neither spoke.

Then Isis’s voice came again, softer than he had ever heard it.

“…This feeling,” she whispered, almost to herself.

“It’s strange. It makes my chest feel both warm… and unfamiliar. Like something is… blooming inside my chest whenever you look at me this way.”

She paused, golden eyes searching his face with quiet confusion and the very first hint of vulnerability.

“Is this… what mortals call love? Or is it merely another illusion you’ve created in this space?”

Gray calmly continued painting, his hand not faltering for a single moment.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he let the question hang gently between them, giving her space to think about it.

“Huumn…”

Isis remained lying with her head on Gray’s lap, her golden eyes half-lidded as she stared up at him.

For a long moment, she was quiet, as if carefully examining the unfamiliar sensation blooming inside her chest.

“…It’s strange,” she finally whispered, her voice softer and more vulnerable than Gray had ever heard it.

“When you look at me like this… when you speak to me so calmly, without fear or reverence… something inside me feels warm. Restless. It’s not unpleasant, yet it makes my heart beat in a way it never has before. I find myself waiting for the next time you speak. Waiting to hear your voice. Waiting to see that gentle expression you always wear when you paint me.”

She slowly raised her hand, almost unconsciously brushing her fingers against the fabric of his shirt near her cheek.

“I keep telling myself it’s nothing. That a goddess cannot be affected by a mere mortal. And yet… every time you stay here with me, every time you choose to remain instead of leaving, that feeling grows stronger. It frightens me… and at the same time, I do not want it to stop.”

Her golden eyes met his, carrying a rare mix of confusion and honesty.

“Is this what you mortals call attachment? Or is it the beginning of something even more dangerous?”

Before Gray could answer, he set his brush down with a soft clink and turned the easel toward her.

“It’s finished,” he said gently.

Isis blinked, clearly caught off guard. She slowly sat up from his lap, silver-white hair cascading over her shoulders as she leaned forward to look at the painting.

Her golden eyes widened in genuine shock.

In the portrait, she was not wearing her usual divine robes.

Instead, she was dressed in simple, casual clothes, a soft white blouse and flowing skirt that made her look far more like an elegant young woman than an untouchable goddess.

Her expression was gorgeously radiant: she was smiling brightly, almost innocently, with genuine joy sparkling in her eyes.

And her hand was gently but firmly dragging a man along with her.

That man was Gray.

He wore a sweet, relaxed smile on his lips as he let her pull him forward, their fingers intertwined.

The entire scene felt warm, intimate, and full of quiet happiness, two people simply enjoying each other’s company on what looked like an ordinary, peaceful day.

Isis stared at the painting in stunned silence, her lips slightly parted. For once, no arrogant remark or dismissive laugh came out.

Before she could find her voice, Gray reached out and gently took her hand in his. His touch was warm, steady, and respectful.

“Shall we go on a date?” he asked softly.

Isis tilted her head to the right in complete confusion, her silver-white hair shifting with the motion.

“…A date?” she repeated, the word sounding foreign on her divine tongue.

Gray smiled tenderly.

Snap!

He snapped his fingers once.

In an instant, the endless white void around them began to transform.

The pure, sterile light shattered and reformed into a beautiful, lively city street bathed in warm afternoon sunlight.

Cobblestone paths lined with flowering trees appeared, charming shops and cafés materialized along the sidewalks, and the distant sound of people laughing and chatting filled the air.

Dozens of elegantly dressed figures began to appear in the distance with couples walking hand-in-hand, families enjoying the day, street musicians playing soft melodies.

The once-empty divine space had become a vibrant, romantic cityscape.

Gray stood up first, still holding her hand gently, and helped Isis to her feet. He looked at her with calm, and sincere eyes.

“Would you accompany me on a date, Isis?” he asked.

“Just the two of us… walking through this city, enjoying the day together.”

Isis stared at him, her golden eyes wide with surprise and a flicker of something new: nervousness mixed with undeniable curiosity.

Her fingers tightened slightly around his hand, as if afraid he might disappear.

For a long moment, she said nothing.

Then, in a quiet, slightly breathless voice she had never used before, the proud goddess answered:

“…Yes.”

Swooosh!

In that moment, the entire space suddenly started desintegrating to pieces. The world around slowly returned to that white void.

Isis was completely shocked at this, turning to Gray with worried eyes.

“Gray…”

She looked down on her hands, and suddenly started noticing that she was going to disappear along with this world.

So… without any ounce of hesitation, she quickly planted a kiss on Gray’s lips, softly caressing her cheek before saying her last words:

“…Please remember me.”

Swiish…

Her figure, along with the rest of the world, dissipated into wisps.

[…The Last Trial of the Law of Seduction has been completed.]

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep