Glub-pfft-hiss.
The sound was remarkably clear, echoing off the vaulted marble walls of the bathing chamber with a resonance that was, quite frankly, humiliating. He slumped deeper into the oversized tub as the thick steam clung to his lashes.
"Great," he muttered, his voice bouncing back at him with a mocking tone. "Real dignified, Cherion. You're supposed to be this mysterious, tragic noble, and here you are, making bubble music in a bathroom that costs more than your entire old apartment building."
He sighed, the frustration of the morning finally settling in his bones. He lifted his right hand out of the water, watching the droplets run down his fingers. Last night… it hadn't been a fever dream. He was sure of it. That warmth, that humming, white-hot vibration that had pulsed from his hand… it was the real deal. He'd actually tapped into the "Original Cherion" healing ability, the one the author had buried in a footnote like a piece of discarded trivia.
