The apartment was exactly what Elara had promised — small, quiet, and tucked away in a corner of the city where prying eyes wouldn't follow them.
The living room wasn't grand by noble standards, but Lucius liked it.
Two couches, one long and one small, sat opposite a wide black table.
A big television sat against the far wall, its glossy surface catching the late-afternoon light.
The walls were a warm beige, the carpet soft enough that each step muted into silence.
It felt… comfortable.
Lucius sank into the long couch with a sigh, leaning back until the cushions swallowed him.
For the first time since waking up in this new life, he felt the quiet hum of domestic peace just like he had in his past life.
No scheming relatives.
No betrayal.
Just him and —
"Alright, Elara," he said between breaths, "what else do you have for your master?"
The way his voice came out — deep, calm, with the faintest trace of amusement made her freeze mid-step.
Elara's cheeks flared red instantly, as if someone had lit a candle beneath her skin. She turned her head away too quickly, nearly spilling the plastic bags in her arms.
She crouched and placed them carefully beside him, her voice small but steady.
"As Young Master knows," she began, "you've outgrown your former clothes… so I decided to get some new sets for you. I bought stylish designs… and some home wear as well."
She said it almost too quickly, as though rushing the words before her embarrassment caught up.
Lucius noticed.
He noticed everything.
The thought that she'd gone through the trouble to hand-pick each one — matching colors, fabrics, and cuts to suit him sat warmly in his chest.
"Thanks a lot, Elara," Lucius said, giving her a smile that wasn't just polite — it was grateful. "You're a lifesaver."
Her eyes widened slightly at the praise before she looked away again.
Lucius reached for one of the bags, pulling out a neatly folded dark-blue shirt with thin silver accents.
He could tell from the stitching alone that it wasn't cheap.
This world might not have the same tech Earth did, but when it came to fashion, it knew how to compete.
Hell, even the manhwa had made the main cast look like they walked out of a high-end runway show.
Now that he was here in person, it made sense.
The tailoring was sharp, the colors vibrant, and the accessories made you feel like a million royals just by wearing them.
And if he was going to awaken his affinity soon?
Then he wasn't stepping into the academy looking like some bargain-bin side character.
A plan was already forming in his mind: the day after tomorrow, he'd wear a perfectly tailored suit, handkerchief tucked just right, hair gleaming.
If he was going to storm into the world stage, he'd do it with some good drip.
"Young Master, you're grinning," Elara's voice cut through his thoughts.
Lucius cleared his throat. "Oh, don't mind me. Is there anything else?"
Her expression shifted as if she'd just remembered something important.
She reached into another bag and pulled out a slim black box. Opening it revealed a sleek watch — silver with a deep navy face and a single red rose crafted from crystal, its petals gleaming faintly in the light.
"They came with the suit, Young Master," she said, her tone soft but certain. "I think… you would look dashing in it. Honestly."
Lucius ran a hand over the watch, admiring the craftsmanship.
"I think so too." He set it aside and glanced up at her with a faint smirk. "Tell me you got some clothes for yourself too. You can't keep wearing that maid costume everywhere."
Her blush deepened, and this time, it wasn't just embarrassment — it was a flustered heat that reached her ears.
The truth was, she'd only kept wearing the maid outfit because he once told her he liked it.
Back before the coma, he'd casually mentioned that he enjoyed seeing her in it. It wasn't a command, but it stuck.
Even now, his eyes still lingered on her whenever she walked into the room, especially…
She shifted her weight, clearly aware of where his gaze had wandered.
"Y-Y-Yes, Young Master," she stammered, her words tripping over each other. "I… I got some for myself as well."
She reached into a separate bag and began showing him the outfits — dresses, casual tops, skirts.
Each time, she paused until he gave a nod of approval before setting it aside.
When she pulled out one particularly daring piece, Lucius raised a brow. It was a deep crimson top that plunged low enough to reveal far more than modesty would allow.
The cut hugged the sides in such a way that even the slightest movement would test the fabric's loyalty.
"That one's too revealing for public," Lucius said, a hint of amusement in his tone. "But… I'll permit you to wear it at home."
Her shoulders dropped in visible relief, though her blush returned at the at home part, this was exactly why she had bought it in the first place.
"Thank you, Young Master," she murmured. Then, as though shifting to another thought entirely, she fixed him with a look. "Young Master… do you like your hair like that?"
Lucius reached up, fingers brushing the slightly long strands. "Oh, my hair? I was thinking of cutting it. Apparently, it seems a little too long."
In his old life, he wouldn't have minded the 'cultivator' look — long, flowing, mysterious. But here, it didn't fit.
From Lucius's memories, men who didn't keep a clean cut weren't taken seriously in noble circles.
Appearance was everything.
"Then let me deal with it, Young Master," Elara said, her eyes suddenly sparkling as if she'd struck gold.
Before he could protest, she'd already taken his arm and was guiding him toward the bathroom.
The bathroom was well-lit, the large mirror above the sink giving him a perfect view of himself.
And no matter how many times Lucius saw his face now, the truth remained: being this handsome was a crime in at least six countries.
He could be sent to hell for being like this.
"Sit," Elara ordered softly, her voice carrying an excitement she tried to hide.
She set out a small collection of haircare products on the counter.
Lucius briefly considered asking when she'd bought them — he hadn't seen them in the shopping haul but decided against it.
She looked too pleased with herself.
She squeezed a generous amount of cream into her hands and began running it through his hair.
Her fingers worked skillfully, untangling knots, smoothing each strand.
"It feels soft…" Lucius murmured, leaning back slightly in the chair. He felt the tension melt from his shoulders.
'So this is why noblemen keep beautiful maids,' he thought. 'I finally understand my seniors.'
Her hands moved rhythmically, almost hypnotically, and his mind began to drift. More time passed as he sat comfortably.
'I should ask her for a massage next.'
"Young Master," she said, but he didn't respond.
'Or maybe she could feed me grapes… yes, that sounds dignified.'
"Young Master."
'The Dao of Laziness flows through me.'
"Young Master!"
The sharp call snapped him out of his reverie. He blinked and looked into the mirror — then froze.
If it was possible for someone already absurdly handsome to become even more devastating, she'd just achieved it.
His hair was shorter now, ending just at the start of his neck.
It had been trimmed with precise scissor work, combed perfectly to frame his face without overshadowing his features.
The texture caught the light in a way that made him look sharper, more… dangerous.
It wasn't the overly polished look of some pampered noble, nor the unkempt style of a wanderer. It was something in between and he looked dashing in it.
"Thank you so much, Elara," he said with genuine gratitude. "I owe you plenty."
Her lips curved into a smile so bright it seemed to light up the room. "Young Master… my duty is to serve you until I die."
And he knew she meant it… She would truly serve him until he died.