In the next moment, the thinnest black stockings that lightly hugged the flesh appeared before him, soft and delicate with a faint sheen. Her slender ankles were perfectly shaped, her toes curled like a crescent moon, elegant and refined, displaying their beauty without restraint.
"Damn… this is perfect. This should be preserved in a glass display case."
Phield was overjoyed. He stared for a long time and reached out to touch, only for Rosalia to dodge gracefully. He chuckled. "Are you sure you don't want some fried rice? I can make it right now."
"Fried rice?" Rosalia didn't understand and waved her hand politely. "I'm not hungry, but thank you."
"Also, don't even think about putting my clothes on display. If they're separated from me for too long, they'll dissipate. They're woven from divine power and blood threads."
Rosalia raised her slender finger and shook it, refusing firmly.
