A Special Gift

"Perfume," the thought flashed through Fanmuir's mind like a stroke of brilliance. After nearly four months among humans—especially his time at the bar interacting with all kinds of women—he had come to understand just how important perfume was to European women.

Once the idea took hold, Fanmuir wasted no time putting it into action.

Good perfume, he knew, didn't come cheap. He remembered how Ronnie Spencer had spent nearly 2,000 euros on a bottle of Lancôme's "Hell Rose" perfume in a desperate attempt to impress a girl. While Fanmuir possessed the vast powers of a blood prince, his worldly resources were far more modest—limited to the funds provided by Caesar Alessandro.

But no matter. As a master of nature's mysteries, Fanmuir had a skillset that far surpassed that of any botanist. He understood plants down to their very essence.

Perfume, in essence, is simply a distillation of plant extracts, refined and concentrated. While modern methods often relied on synthetic compounds, such perfumes could never rival the purity and richness of something entirely natural.

From his pocket, Fanmuir withdrew six of his handcrafted, fragrant pills and placed them in his left palm. With a subtle activation of his power, the pills melted into a shimmering liquid that hovered mid-air before him.

Murmuring an ancient incantation, he guided the liquid as it defied gravity, expanding into a delicate mist that gathered above his hand. Slowly, the fragrant liquid condensed, converging into a single, luminous droplet the size of an egg.

Biting the tip of his index finger, Fanmuir let a drop of golden, radiant blood fall into the droplet. The moment the blood touched it, the liquid transformed into a delicate rose-pink hue, glowing softly in the dim light.

Fanmuir scanned the room and found a crystal bottle. With a flick of his hand, the bottle melted under his will, reshaping into an exquisitely rounded container that radiated brilliance. Its surface was flawless, as though formed by divine hands, and it refracted light in stunning patterns.

The pink essence began to flow into the crystal container, forming an unbroken thread as it filled the bottle. Once the last of the liquid had transferred, the faint, soothing fragrance lingered in the air, like the whisper of a rose garden in full bloom.

Holding the completed bottle in his hand, Fanmuir admired the harmonious blend of the radiant pink perfume and the gleaming crystal container. It was an object of perfection, exuding elegance and grace. Satisfied, he sealed the bottle tightly and slipped it into his pocket, imagining Caroline's delight.

Upstairs, Caroline stood under the shower, lost in thought. The cozy, heartwarming scene playing out downstairs reminded her of her late father. After outdoor activities, her father would always be in the kitchen, preparing delicious meals while she freshened up.

Now, years later, she found herself in a similar situation, with Fanmuir downstairs cooking for her. Though he was just a young man, the warmth and comfort of the moment filled her heart. Tears escaped her eyes, blending with the water as they fell unnoticed.

The betrayals of her uncles, the struggles of raising her daughter alone, and the trials of starting her own business had taught Caroline how to be strong. She had also learned how to live behind a mask. Yet, when she was with Fanmuir, this warm and kind young man, she found herself unexpectedly at ease. With him, she felt a sense of freedom and warmth that allowed her to embrace a softness she rarely showed.

When Caroline emerged at the top of the staircase, her natural, radiant beauty struck Fanmuir like a thunderbolt. As she descended with effortless elegance, each step carrying an air of grace, Fanmuir—despite his 1,500 years of life experience—was utterly mesmerized. He simply stared, unable to look away.

"Have you never seen a beautiful woman before?" Caroline teased, her playful tone accompanied by a flirtatious glance.

"N-no, never," stammered Fanmuir. The poise and dignity of the Huxwell family's prince were nowhere to be found. If any of his family members had seen their leader in this state, they would surely have been stunned.

"Haha!" Caroline couldn't hold back her laughter at Fanmuir's awkward reaction. Though she knew the differences between them—her as a single mother and him as a young student—she couldn't help but feel a strange happiness at the moment.

For Fanmuir, who had always been calm and composed, such a reaction was unheard of, especially in front of a woman. Even his centuries of wisdom and unflappable demeanor couldn't stop the faint blush that crept up his face.

Catching a delicious aroma in the air, Caroline's nose twitched, and her eyes instinctively scanned for its source. When her gaze landed on the dining table, adorned with an array of beautifully presented dishes, she let out an excited "Oh!" and hurried down the stairs, her elegance momentarily forgotten.

Standing before the table, her eyes glistened with tears as she took in the exquisite feast before her.

Suddenly, Caroline turned around and planted a quick kiss on Fanmuir's cheek. Though he could have easily dodged it with his reflexes, he wisely chose not to. The warmth of her lips left Fanmuir—who had never experienced such affection—completely stunned, his mind blank and his body frozen in place.

While Fanmuir stood there like a statue, Caroline, now full of glee, playfully jumped in delight. Without hesitation, she grabbed a large French oyster, popped it into her mouth, and savored it unabashedly. "Mmm, mmm," she murmured as she licked her fingers, completely at ease. Her unrestrained, yet endearingly charming behavior left Fanmuir even more awestruck.

"This is incredible! I've never tasted anything like this before! You'd be wasting your talent if you didn't become a chef!" Caroline exclaimed, her words muffled by the food in her mouth.

Though Fanmuir was confident in his cooking, hearing Caroline's heartfelt praise still brought him immense satisfaction. Smiling, he said, "It's nothing. If you like it, I'll cook for you anytime."

"Really?" Caroline's eyes sparkled with childlike excitement as she looked at Fanmuir.

Who could possibly refuse such a gaze? Certainly not Fanmuir. At that moment, he silently vowed to keep creating delicious meals for her in the future.

"Take a seat and enjoy your meal!" Fanmuir said with a gentlemanly smile as he pulled out a chair for Caroline.

She sat down but immediately cupped her hands over her mouth, her cheeks turning a deep crimson. Why am I so greedy? This is mortifying! And didn't I just lick my fingers? Oh no, how am I supposed to look him in the eye now?

Fortunately, Fanmuir recalled a valuable piece of wisdom imparted by his ever-enthusiastic roommates, Lonnie Spencer and his friends: When a woman is embarrassed, never, ever laugh or tease her. The aftermath of her fury is not something you want to deal with.

Being a blood prince with unmatched self-control, Fanmuir easily maintained a calm and composed demeanor, showing not even a hint of amusement. His expression remained neutral, betraying nothing.

Caroline risked a shy glance at him, her large, doe-like eyes peeking through her lashes. When she saw that Fanmuir wasn't laughing or reacting in any way, she felt an immense sense of relief. Thank goodness he didn't notice, she thought, grateful beyond words.

As her nerves settled, Caroline's attention returned to the table. The array of beautifully plated, aromatic dishes reignited her appetite. Her gaze flicked occasionally to Fanmuir, sitting across from her, and she couldn't help but marvel at him. How could someone so young create such a feast?

The French oysters alone had been an unforgettable experience. She hadn't even sampled the other dishes yet, but judging by their presentation, she knew they wouldn't disappoint. Her curiosity piqued, and her hunger got the better of her as she reached for her knife and fork.

"Hold on a second!" Fanmuir's sudden interjection made her freeze mid-movement.

Feeling a little embarrassed, Caroline pulled her hand back. After all, no woman likes being thought of as overly indulgent. But Fanmuir's next words completely erased her unease.

"Caroline, may I have the honor of crafting a cocktail for you?" he asked with a warm smile, holding up a cocktail shaker with the flair of a true gentleman.

Curiosity is a natural trait of women—one of the reasons gossip so easily originates and spreads among them. While Caroline wasn't one to indulge in idle chatter, her curiosity was undeniably piqued. Ever since Fanmuir had returned from the bar with a cocktail shaker and an assortment of spirits, her mind had been abuzz with questions. Now, hearing his offer to make her a drink, she couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of anticipation.

"Fanmuir, you can make cocktails? Really? I can't wait to see this!" she said excitedly, her bright eyes sparkling as they stayed fixed on the bottles and shaker in his hands. She looked as eager as a child about to witness something truly magical.

Fanmuir nodded with a quiet smile, then began setting up the cocktail shaker and bottles neatly on the table.

He raised his arms, and in the next instant, the bottles and shaker seemed to spring to life, leaping into the air as if enchanted. Like graceful spirits, they danced and twirled elegantly in the space around him.

Fanmuir's hands moved with mesmerizing precision, exuding an aura of complete control. No matter how wildly the bottles spun and soared, they remained tethered to his command.

Sunlight streamed through the windows, catching the flying bottles at just the right angles to create a kaleidoscope of shimmering colors. As the bottles whirled faster and faster, the scene transformed into a celestial dance of light, with twinkling beams filling the room like a sky full of stars.

Caroline sat spellbound, unable to look away. Is this really bartending? she wondered, her heart racing. No, this isn't just bartending—this is pure magic, a masterpiece of art and skill!

Fanmuir's performance had utterly captivated her, leaving her in awe of his extraordinary talents.

Soon, a stunningly vibrant cocktail, the "Nine Heavens Rainbow," appeared on the table before Caroline. It shimmered with an array of brilliant colors, like a perfect rainbow brought to life. Each hue blended seamlessly with the next, occasionally sparkling with a mesmerizing glow.

Caroline held her breath, afraid that even a slight exhale might somehow disturb the dazzling perfection of the "Nine Heavens Rainbow." Her delicate hands hovered tentatively, hesitant to touch the glass.

Watching her marvel at the cocktail as though it were a priceless gem, Fanmuir couldn't help but feel both amused and pleased. For him, creating such a masterpiece was effortless—he could craft millions of variations without a second thought.

"Don't just stare at it—try it and tell me how it tastes," he urged with a smile.

"No, I can't! It's too beautiful. How could I bear to drink it?" Caroline replied, looking genuinely conflicted.

Her earnest reaction made Fanmuir laugh softly. Without saying another word, he swiftly prepared four more glasses of "Nine Heavens Rainbow," placing them on the table. "See? There are plenty more now. You can enjoy the one in front of you guilt-free," he said, his tone teasing.

Blushing slightly, Caroline finally picked up her glass, treating it as delicately as if it were a rare treasure. She took a cautious sip, and the moment the crisp, sweet liquid touched her tongue, it filled her senses with a harmonious blend of flavors. The richness and complexity of the cocktail unfurled like a symphony, leaving her in bliss. An instant warmth and comfort coursed through her, bringing a rosy flush to her cheeks.

"This is incredible!" she exclaimed, taking another sip, this time larger. The sensation swept over her again, as though every inch of her being had been rejuvenated. Before she realized it, she was drinking the cocktail with unrestrained delight. Luckily, Fanmuir had crafted the drink with almost no alcohol, knowing it was meant for a lady. Otherwise, with Caroline's low tolerance, she would have been thoroughly intoxicated by now.

As the cocktails slowly disappeared, so did the food on the table. Caroline devoured every dish with surprising enthusiasm, leaving only scraps for Fanmuir. Even his quick reflexes couldn't save him from missing out. Fortunately, he didn't mind at all.

"That was amazing! I'm so full!" Caroline leaned back in her chair with a satisfied sigh, her hand gently resting on her now-rounded stomach.

"Ah!" she suddenly yelped, standing up as if jolted. Her cheeks flushed as she turned to Fanmuir, looking shy and flustered. "Did you eat enough?"

Fanmuir chuckled at her embarrassed expression, finding her reaction both amusing and endearing. "Haha, you greedy beauty! Don't worry—I snuck a few bites in the kitchen earlier. Otherwise, my poor stomach wouldn't have stood a chance!"

Hearing herself called a "greedy beauty," Caroline's face turned a deeper shade of crimson. She quickly stammered, "I… I'll clean up the table! You rest!" Grabbing the used plates and cutlery, she hurriedly retreated into the kitchen, her head low.

Once inside, Caroline placed the dishes on the counter and pressed her hands to her heated cheeks, feeling utterly mortified. She stamped her feet lightly, mumbling under her breath, "How could I let myself lose control like that? Eating and drinking so much… what was I thinking?!"