Holy City.
The Pope's Bedroom.
Soft morning light filtered through the tall, stained-glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the opulent and elegant bedroom.
Murphy slowly opened his eyes.
The space beside him was already empty. Only the faint wrinkles on the mattress and a subtle, lingering fragrance on the pillow proved that last night had not been a dream.
Elizabeth had risen long ago. She now stood before a dressing mirror not far away, her back to the bed.
Two Maids were silently adjusting her moon-white papal robes and helping her don the exquisite Silver Crown, a symbol of supreme authority.
Murphy did not get up immediately. He simply lay quietly amidst the soft velvet bedding, his gaze calmly fixed on her busy figure.
As a Foundation Establishment Cultivator, his very state of being had long since transcended the mortal plane; sleep was not a biological necessity for him.
However, he deliberately held on to mortal habits like sleeping and eating.
