The guests trickled back into the peaceful villa one by one, the morning light now fully bright and warm as it streamed through the large windows. It was already 10:37 AM. Considering the time needed to change clothes—or perhaps even bathe again after the soapy ordeal—the meal would no longer qualify as breakfast. It would be brunch, or possibly even lunch. Yet none of the guests minded the details. As long as they could finally eat something, the exact label of the meal was irrelevant.
Su Wanyan and Mo Xingxue shared the same thought. They headed straight back to their shared room, the familiar wooden floors creaking under their steps. The space felt like a sanctuary after the chaotic energy of the park—quiet, sunlit, and filled with the faint, comforting scent of the neutralizers Mo Xingxue had used earlier.
