Extra's Pov: The Goddess Wants Me To Conquer Milfs

Logan stood before the full-length mirror in his room, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt.

He had chosen a tailored black dress shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and lean, athletic frame, the top two buttons left undone to reveal a faint glimpse of his collarbone.

Over it rested a sleek charcoal vest that accentuated his narrow waist, paired with dark trousers and polished leather shoes that caught the light with every step.

A subtle silver chain rested against his chest, while his hair had been brushed neatly back, giving him a dangerous, refined edge.

He looked every bit the prodigy he was.

Untouchable.

Magnetic.

Quietly commanding.

Satisfied, he slipped on a long black coat to shield himself from the evening chill before stepping out of the house.

Thankfully, Daenerys was still in the kitchen when he left. Otherwise, Logan doubted she would have allowed him to walk out dressed like this without causing trouble out of jealousy.

By the time Logan stepped outside, the sun had already dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in deep purples and fading streaks of orange.

He made his way toward the underground fight arena.

The streets gradually narrowed as he moved farther from the cleaner districts of the city. The atmosphere grew rougher, heavier, carrying the scent of sweat, blood, cheap ale, and smoke.

The underground fight arena was a lawless den buried beneath an old warehouse, a place overflowing with violence and vice.

Near the entrance, various masks hung from a wooden stand for those who wished to conceal their identities.

Inside, prostitutes danced seductively beneath the dim lantern lights, dressed in little more than thin, revealing lingerie that shamelessly exposed ample cleavage and soft curves.

Logan walked calmly through the chaotic crowd, his sharp gaze sweeping across every corner with practiced precision.

After several minutes passed without any sign of Cecilia, he approached a scarred organizer leaning lazily against a wooden pillar. The man wiped dried blood from his knuckles with a filthy rag while chewing on a toothpick.

"I’m looking for Cecilia," Logan said evenly. "Short dark brown hair, light freckles, usually works the registration desk. Have you seen her tonight?"

The man slowly lifted his gaze, eyes narrowing faintly.

"Cecilia, huh? She isn’t around today. Why you asking?"

Logan reached into his coat pocket and pulled out several gleaming gold coins, holding them between his fingers so they caught the dim light.

"I need to know where she lives."

The organizer’s eyes immediately flickered toward the coins, greed flashing openly across his face.

He licked his lips before lowering his voice.

"Alright, alright. She stays on Willow Street. Third house past the broken fountain. Faded blue door. Small place. Easy to spot."

Only then did Logan drop the coins into the man’s waiting palm.

The scarred organizer pocketed them immediately with a satisfied grunt.

Logan gave a short nod before turning away without another word.

The walk toward Willow Street was slow and deliberate.

Cool evening air brushed softly against his face as he moved through the dimly lit streets.

After several minutes, he finally arrived at Willow Street.

A few moments later, the house the organizer had described entered his line of sight.

The modest home sat quietly between two larger, weathered buildings.

Warm lamplight spilled gently through its windows, casting a soft golden glow across the narrow street outside.

Logan climbed the short wooden steps before knocking firmly against the door, the sound echoing faintly into the quiet night.

A long silence followed.

Then, with a faint creak, the door slowly opened.

Cecilia stood there, visibly startled.

Her short dark brown hair was slightly messy, loose strands falling across her face.

She wore a simple white tunic paired with loose pants, while faint shadows rested beneath her striking violet eyes. Her shoulders carried visible exhaustion.

Yet despite that, her beauty remained undeniable.

The warm lamplight softened her features beautifully, highlighting the light freckles dusting her cheeks and nose, her full pink lips, and the lithe, athletic figure hidden beneath the loose fabric.

Her eyes widened slightly, almost as though she were staring at a dream.

"Logan...?"

"Good evening, Cecilia," he replied, his voice calm and low. "I promised you a second date... here I am."

She stared at him silently for several long seconds, her cheeks gradually turning pink.

"You... you were actually serious? I thought after that one time... maybe you were just being nice..."

Cecilia’s thoughts were in complete disarray.

She couldn’t understand how Logan had managed to find her house.

But that wasn’t even the main issue.

He had actually seen her like this?

Her face burned with embarrassment.

At that moment, she genuinely wanted to bury herself underground.

This was easily the most mortifying moment of her life.

"I always keep my word..." Logan replied simply, a faint smile appearing on his face.

Cecilia hesitated briefly, fingers tightening around the edge of the doorframe before she finally gave a small nod and shut the door.

Logan leaned casually against the wooden railing outside, listening quietly to the distant sounds of the city settling into the night.

Twenty-five minutes passed before the door finally opened again.

And this time, the transformation was striking.

Unlike before, Cecilia now wore a sleek charcoal-black satin dress that clung to her figure with dangerous elegance.

The plunging sweetheart neckline revealed teasing glimpses of her soft cleavage, while the delicate off-shoulder straps accentuated her smooth shoulders and elegant collarbones.

The fabric wrapped tightly around her narrow waist before flowing down into a short hem that exposed her toned thighs, a high slit occasionally revealing flashes of skin whenever she moved.

Her short dark brown hair now fell in soft waves around her face, while subtle makeup made her violet eyes appear even more captivating beneath the warm glow of the streetlamps.

The faint freckles scattered across her cheeks added an innocent charm that contrasted beautifully against the seductive dress.

She looked radiant.

The earlier exhaustion had vanished completely, replaced by a shy, glowing vitality.

"You look stunning," Logan said as he extended his arm toward her.

Cecilia accepted it gently, her fingers warm yet slightly hesitant against his sleeve.

"Thank you. H-how does it... look?"

"It’s perfect," Logan replied with a reassuring smile.

Cecilia’s shoulders visibly relaxed.

She had spent nearly twenty minutes worrying whether the dress was too much or too little.

But hearing him say it was perfect made a small wave of excitement bloom quietly inside her chest.