As the days passed, Hasib found himself increasingly in the company of the princess. Her demand for his presence grew unwavering, insisting on his companionship each day. The playful moments of dressing up had evolved from brushing her hair to washing her feet, and now he found himself giving her massages.

In their close interactions, he observed two things: her unpredictable mood swings, seemingly detached from any external cause, and her undeniable beauty. Initially, he felt a sense of trepidation when meeting her gaze, but as time went on, his confidence grew, allowing him to appreciate her beauty more openly. However, it was merely the beginning of his awakening.

Being tasked with touching her, Hasib felt the silkiness of her skin and inhaled the alluring fragrance of the aromatic oils she applied after bathing, mostly enjoying the water for cooling purposes. This luxury was something he envied, having grown up swimming in the lake just a few miles from his modest home.

Unbeknownst to him, the princess's comfort with his touch emboldened him to push boundaries each day, a progression that escaped his notice. Once again, he stood behind her, her hair cascading to the side, exposing her bare left shoulder. With her hands, she loosely held her wavy locks, to keep them out of the view.

"It hurts a bit," she uttered, moments after requesting a massage to relieve her stiff neck.

"Here?" he asked, cautiously touching her exposed skin.

"Yes," she affirmed.

His fingers gently penetrated her body, attempting to alleviate the tension in her muscles. She gasped but offered a smile, while Hasib nervously moistened his lips, unintentionally becoming more daring in his touch. Gradually, he inched closer until he stood directly behind her, and that's when he noticed her breasts partially exposed in a loose neckline.

Swiftly, he redirected his gaze, only to meet her piercing eyes in the mirror's reflection. Her lower lip caught between her teeth as her gaze locked onto his. Sparks ignited within her eyes, and a faint blush tinted her cheeks. This sight left him increasingly flustered, prompting him to swallow nervously.

"Continue," she whispered, her voice a breathy entreaty.

Hasib realized he had momentarily ceased the massage.

"Y-yes," he stammered, repositioning his fingers to knead her shoulders and neck once more.

For a fleeting moment, he focused on the movements of his own hands, pressing and manipulating her flesh, causing her to gasp once more. In response, he raised his head, and their eyes met again on the reflective surface.

Suddenly, the room felt stiflingly hot.

Unable to control his escalating desire, Hasib's gaze involuntarily returned to the princess's exposed shoulder, briefly glimpsing the fullness of her bosom. It was enough to send his mind spiraling into a tumultuous frenzy.

"I-i... I need t-to g-go," he stammered, abruptly leaving the room.

Closing the door behind him, he leaned back against it, awaiting her call, consumed by panic and uncertainty. The realization of the dangerous territory he had entered overwhelmed him. She was a princess, after all, and their illicit connection carried grave consequences. His own body betrayed him, as his eyes wandered to forbidden places, lost in a whirlwind of temptation.

The flickering fire cast dancing light, painting Mamadou and Bruno in an ethereal glow at the edge of the training area. Mamadou gripped a bag tightly packed with hay, while Bruno stood poised, his fist held high, lightly bouncing from one foot to the other.

In the background, other fighters sprinted or honed their strikes on combat dummies, their attention divided among various tasks. However, one figure, Javohir, stood apart, his gaze fixed intently on the duo's every move, studying their technique.

"One-two, in and out," Mamadou instructed.

Bruno responded not with words, but with action. He surged forward, jabbing with his right fist, closing the distance, and following up with a quick combination of left and right strikes. The impacts landed solidly on the bag, their intensity muffled.

"Good. Again," Mamadou urged.

The young alchemist repeated the sequence, his movements precise and focused.

"Again," Mamadou prompted once more.

And so, Bruno repeated the drill, his determination unwavering.

In the distance, Javohir attentively observed. His unmoving focus was momentarily disrupted when Bug appeared, contentedly munching on a piece of bread.

"Watching your enemy's training, are you?" Bug quipped, a sly grin spreading across his face.

"Opponent, not an enemy. Besides, there is no one else for us to fight," Javohir replied calmly, refusing to let Bug's taunts provoke him.

"Tell yourself whatever you want. In the end, there can be only one winner," Bug sneered.

"Whoever wins, it will be through a fair and square fight," Javohir stated firmly.

Bug chuckled, then sauntered away. Javohir paid him no mind, immediately redirecting his attention back to the diligent duo practicing in the distance.

As Mamadou explained a technique to Bruno, the young fighter halted his movements. The man even put the bag down.

"He has a longer reach, so you must be bold and close the distance. The closer you are, the harder it will be for him. It's a fistfight, so you can afford to take a punch or two as long as you protect your head. Then, you can go on the offense and aim for a solid liver shot. That should secure your victory," Mamadou advised, sharing his expertise.

"He's fast, though. I might end up getting hit for no reason," Bruno countered.

The teacher's gaze fixed on the boy, his raised eyebrows silently questioning the option of an alternative plan the young alchemist’s words suggested.

"I'm not going to tell you," Bruno elaborated, a mischievous smile forming. "You'd just spill the beans to him."

"I need to ensure the fight is exciting," the trainer asserted.

"It will be. I promise," Bruno assured with confidence.

"It had better be. Much depends on it. Remember, both of you seek patronage, preferably from some wealthy widow," Mamadou replied, a rare glimmer of amusement in his eyes. It was a stark departure from his typically serious demeanor, which prompted Bruno to smile in response.

"Preferably," Bruno concurred, displaying the shared ambition for a more prosperous future.

"Well then... back to the one-two combo," the teacher declared, reclaiming the bag from the ground.

The boy assumed his position once more, moving to the rhythm within him. With a leap forward, he unleashed his strikes, fully committed and driven by a hunger for success.