She gave a bitter, self-mocking smile... Of course, the room was empty. It was just desolate—a luxuriously furnished queen-sized standard room, as expected. Only the central air conditioning maintained a comfortable and gentle temperature, with bright but not glaring romantic lights, clean and elegant bedroom furniture, a vibrant and opulent bathroom, snow-white and delicately soft bedding and pillows... and the moonlight filtering intermittently through the floor-to-ceiling curtains from Creek Moon Lake outside. Follow current novels on novęlfire.net Silent, but also lonely. She closed the door behind her with a reverse motion, turned on the "Do Not Disturb" indicator light, and realized the room didn’t have a physical deadbolt, just an electronic card-activated auto-lock. She took another look at the room’s décor. Perhaps it was the indoor lighting stimulating her senses, or maybe it was the lingering effects of the two glasses of red wine she’d drunk—known for their delayed kick—that made her feel hotter, more tired. Her joints ached, there was some dizziness in her vision. She really wanted to collapse into bed right away. But her intrinsic habit as a girl who valued cleanliness refused to allow her to sleep without first taking a bath. The bathroom was outfitted with luxurious fixtures whose brand names she couldn’t even identify. It offered both a shower and a glazed white porcelain bathtub. But at this moment, she was feeling too tired to soak in the tub, so she simply turned on the showerhead in the glass enclosure. The hotel’s bathing facilities were far more upscale than those back at the base. No waiting was required—the pressurized stream of warm water began to spray forth instantly from the shower column, "whoosh-whoosh," creating swirls of fantastical steam in the shower stall. Xu Shasha unzipped and removed her sports jacket, folded it neatly; she grabbed the hem of her snug-fitting white tank top from her supple waistline and pulled it off, folding it; she unhooked the adhesive buckle cleverly designed at the side of her hip and slid off her sports pants, draping them over the back of a chair... until she was down to just her bra and panties. Normally, at moments , she couldn’t resist admiring her alluring figure clad in lingerie in the mirror, even striking a playful pose with a touch of pride. But this time, she was simply too exhausted to do so—she carried on instead, unclipping the bra clasp at her back with a "pop" and removing the pastel green lace-patterned cotton bra crafted for young girls, freeing her budding breasts in their lively development. Her rosy nipples, as always, made adorable, flickering movements when passing out of the bra’s confines. Sliding the pastel green lace panties off her hips, she glanced, perhaps intentionally or unintentionally, at the fabric covering her crotch to check for any dirt or stains... Then, she suddenly thought of how she’d started paying more attention to wearing "matching sets" of underwear recently. Was it because of that day, the first time in her life she’d been defiled and toyed with by a man? Was it that terrifying man, who’d teased and mocked her with vulgar words that night? Maybe he had deliberately humiliated her or was just playing with her—wasn’t it he who told her, "You ought to pay attention to matching your lingerie"? At the time, while she was caught in the endless torment of his violation, bracing herself for the inevitable horror of the assault’s culmination, she was actually flustered by his remark, feeling a pang of embarrassment... What was wrong with her? Was she really going to start being mindful of her lingerie combinations? Start adorning herself to look sexier, more alluring? Was it that she was inherently promiscuous, or had she fallen under some kind of depraved spell after being in the clutches of that horrifying Devil? She shook her head, unwilling to dwell on these thoughts. She carefully folded both her bra and panties, placing them on the chair nearby. Since she’d come out just for dinner tonight, she hadn’t anticipated staying out late, let alone needing to stay overnight. She hadn’t packed any change of clothes, meaning both her underwear and outerwear would need to be kept in good condition to be worn tomorrow morning or later. In the end, she couldn’t resist lifting her slightly bloodshot eyes to gaze once again at her own body reflected in the bathroom mirror—a body she once regarded as a treasure, now tainted by violation and desecration. Pale, radiant, tender. It seemed to possess a softness and delicacy that could dissolve into the waters of a swimming pool, not just in her shyest private places, not just her enticingly youthful nipples and the delicate groove of her lower body, but every feature—her shoulders, navel, legs, even her elbows and knees—all were so exquisite, enchanting, youthful, and athletic, appearing entirely devoid of wrinkles or blemishes... Yet, as she scrutinized herself in the mirror, she felt she could see filth and contamination lurking deep in her skin and pores, saw the shadow of Ishikawa Yue, even caught the scent of Ishikawa Yue on her flesh. She knew this was merely a psychological illusion. She had no choice but to set aside such helpless anguish and imaginings, letting the spray of hot water from the shower wash over her body entirely. From the hair on her head to her shoulders, from the curves of her breasts to the shape of her hips, from her thighs to the soles of her feet, she didn’t bother with meticulous scrubbing like she would at home—she simply rubbed herself haphazardly as the heat of the water enveloped her skin, as if it could cleanse her more thoroughly, rinse away some of her troubles and sorrow. Yet it seemed as though the water held a magical, hypnotic quality, enveloping her... She turned off the showerhead, dried her body with a clean, oversized white bath towel, and put back on her snug-fitting panties. Feeling uneasy for some reason, she rummaged through the wardrobe and found a clean set of silk guest pajamas, though the size proved slightly too large. She didn’t want to sleep wearing a bra since it would be uncomfortable; nor did she wish to sleep entirely naked, as it made her feel unsafe and anxious. So, she resigned herself to randomly slipping into the slightly oversized pajamas. Crawling into the King-size, two-meter-wide bed layered with soft, snow-white bedding, she was immediately surrounded by the soothing, gentle embrace of the down-filled comforter combined with the cool ambient temperature set to 22 degrees. The sensations heightened her weariness even further.