The next morning, at dawn
Duke stirred awake. Reaching beside him, he found the bed empty. The sheets, still soft and warm, only reminded him of last night's madness. With both hands he rubbed his face.
"What the hell was I thinking…"
He let out a bitter laugh, climbing out of bed. At the foot of the bed lay a neatly folded set of clothes. Duke checked his inventory—the clothes he had stored were still there. Which meant this set had been deliberately prepared.
Obviously, Vayne's doing.
But what was that supposed to mean?
Was the Night Hunter suddenly applying for a career change—as a virtuous, dutiful wife?
As he dressed, Duke's thoughts tangled. Based on his understanding of Vayne, that shouldn't be possible. Yet the events of last night said otherwise.
When he buttoned the shirt and glanced at himself in the mirror by the door, he had to admit: the checkered shirt, slim-fit trousers, and riding boots gave him a sharp, spirited look.
Still, Duke preferred his loose white lab coat—comfortable, functional, and a constant reminder never to neglect his research.
Descending to the first floor, the smell of something burnt reached his nose. He rushed into the kitchen and found Vayne, biting her thumb in frustration as she stared at a pot of scorched corn porridge.
"Trying to cook with the same hands you use to hold a crossbow… a bit unrealistic, don't you think?"
Duke leaned lazily against the counter, grinning.
Vayne shot him a glare. "If you're so capable, then you do it!"
"Gladly."
Taking her place, Duke inspected the kitchen. Supplies were practically nonexistent. He shook his head helplessly and pulled out a few cans from his inventory to warm over the stove.
"Is this really your home?"
"I only come back occasionally. Most of my time is spent out hunting."
Her long hair fell loosely over her shoulders, softening her sharp aura. She seemed less the relentless hunter now, and more like an ordinary woman.
Before long, Duke set a simple breakfast on the table.
As they sat facing each other, Vayne glanced at his outfit. "How does it fit? That was my father's."
"Not bad. Still, I prefer my white coat."
He tugged at the collar with a casual shrug.
"What are your plans next?"
She tried a spoonful of porridge. To her surprise, the flavor was far better than she expected.
"Finish the Glory Tournament here, conclude my business, and then I'll leave."
Duke passed her bread and honey. "Here, try this. It's good stuff."
As Vayne spread the honey, Duke ventured, "How about coming back to Piltover with me?"
"No." She refused without hesitation. Handing him the first slice of bread, she took one for herself. "I have my own path. I want to hunt demons, to watch their blood spill. That's what I live for. I can't follow you to Piltover."
"Then what are you planning?"
She bit into the bread, speaking calmly. "For now, you'll stay with me. When I decide to resume the hunt, you'll leave. Leave me a way to reach you—when I miss you, I'll call, and you'll come."
Duke nearly choked on his bread. What's that supposed to mean?
When she wanted him, he had to come.
When she didn't, he had to disappear.
The hell kind of deal was that?
He suddenly lost his appetite, realizing Vayne might just see him as a… walking massage tool.
"So in your eyes, I'm nothing more than a pillow to keep your bed warm at night?"
The knife in Vayne's hand paused, but her reply was flat: "If anyone's losing out here, it's me, not you."
"Why so worked up?"
She shot him a sidelong glance full of sultry disdain, then took another bite of bread, savoring the sweetness of honey with narrowed eyes.
Duke froze. That line… it sounded familiar.
Then it struck him—wasn't that exactly what he'd said after that wild night in Mithril City?
So this was karma biting back.
As Duke sat there dumbfounded, Vayne finished her meal. Rising from her seat, she draped an arm casually over his shoulder.
"By the way, about that armor you promised me—I'm looking forward to it."
"Once you're done eating, head out. I'll take care of things here." She planted a quick kiss on his cheek, her lips curving into a teasing smile. "That's all, dear."
Half an hour later, Duke stood at the villa's door, glancing back at the house. He lit a cigar, took a long drag, and exhaled with a grimace.
"What the hell just happened…"
An hour later, Duke arrived at the arena. Over Vayne's clothes he'd put on his trademark white lab coat, though her chosen outfit was still underneath.
"Duke!"
Lux had been waiting with Angela's car outside the arena. Spotting the lab coat, she ran straight to him.
"Where were you last night? You never came back!"
"Well…" Duke rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, then ruffled her hair.
"Grown-up business. Not something a kid needs to worry about."
"Mm!"
Lux puffed her cheeks, studying him suspiciously, as though trying to uncover some trace of guilt. But Duke's face was perfectly calm—there was no way this little girl would catch him out.
"Enough about that. Guess what equipment I'm using today?"
Hands on his hips, he deliberately changed the subject.
"You're planning to mess up the tournament again!" Lux accused.
"No, no. Just a normal match." He waved her off. "Don't overthink it."
They were walking toward the entrance when Duke suddenly halted. Lux bumped into his back, clutching her nose in surprise.
Before she could ask why, a man's voice called out.
"Excuse me—are you Master Duke Sanchez?"
"I am. What do you want?"
"I am an emissary of the Ein family. My lord invites you to a meeting."
"A meeting?" Duke narrowed his eyes. "I don't recall having ties with your master. Besides, I've got a match today. You'll have to excuse me."
"The match has been arranged. In three days you will advance directly to the main tournament." The emissary smiled politely. "Consider it our show of good faith."
"So it seems I don't have a choice. Go or not, the outcome's the same."
Warriors began to surround them. Lux tugged anxiously at Duke's sleeve, but he only gave her a reassuring smile.
"It's up to you," the emissary said smoothly.
Duke chuckled. "In that case, let's see what your master wants."
He turned to Lux. "Looks like today's trip was wasted. Have Angela take you back for now."
"But—"
"Don't worry." He tousled her hair again. "I'll be back soon enough."
"Alright… I'll wait for you, Duke!"
"Good girl."
Leaving her behind, Duke followed the emissary through the arena, up the nobles' exclusive passage, and into the highest-level private box—luxurious décor, the best view, flawless service.
The emissary bowed toward an old man inside. "Lord Dud, Master Duke has arrived."
"Good. Leave us."
"Yes, sir."
When the door shut, Duke strolled in, plucked a honeyed fruit from the table, and took a bite without ceremony.
"So when force fails, you resort to soft tactics?"
The old man—Dud Ein—turned to face him. "Name your price."
"Name my price?" Duke rolled his eyes. "You think our conflict can be smoothed over now?"
This was the very man who had led the opposition when Duke's exoskeletons entered Demacia's market. Last night's assassination attempt? Also his doing.
Apparently, the killer Duke had reprogrammed hadn't finished the job.
"There's nothing that cannot be settled, young man." Dud rapped his cane against the floor. "I won't deny your brilliance. But this is Demacia. Our land. Outsiders cannot run wild here. Think carefully."
"I've thought about it." Duke wiped the juice from his lips, smiling. "And my conclusion is—there's nothing to discuss."
"Reckless stubbornness will not serve you. Our family controls Demacia's entire arms trade. Do you really intend to wage war against us?"
"I'll just sell to Noxus. Or maybe Freljord."
Duke's voice dripped with contempt. "Then, when your soldiers in the field are slaughtered by men wearing my exoskeletons, you'll find you've got no way out."
"You dare!" Dud's face darkened. He knew too well how powerful Duke's technology was. Even a weakling could gain the strength to wrestle beasts. If the stronger warriors used it, their family's market would collapse overnight.
Soon, everyone would abandon their wares for Duke's exoskeletons, even opening their own markets willingly to him.
And that, Dud could never allow.
"What can you do to me?"
Duke leaned back, crossed his legs, and ate the last bite of fruit, lazily wiping his hands.
"You started this mess."
"Hmph." Dud's cane struck the floor again. "I knew you'd refuse. That's why I invited someone else."
"No matter who it is, it won't matter."
"Oh? What if it's me?"
The familiar voice froze Duke mid-motion. He turned, raising an eyebrow.
"…Tiana?"
End of chapter....
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